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Nomad Seeks Some Advice -=- Night is falling. Night in New York City is like a plague. No one wants it, no one likes it, but no one can avoid it. Night is when the worst of the worst emerge from the shadows to bring chaos and havoc to the general populace. Night is when all security and peacefulness ceases to exist. Night is when Nomad feels the most at peace -=- -=- Nomad fidgets with the phone for a minute, a look of pensiveness on his face. He holds the phone up, and reaches across the number pad with his thumb as he dials a familiar but long-neglected number. The phone rings -=- Hey, man. This is Nomad. Yeah, I know it�s been a while. How�s it going? That�s great, she took her first step? Congratulations, man. Yeah, yeah. Things are going alright. Yeah, I got my title back. Yeah. Ha ha ha....I dropped the little bastard fourty feet right on his head. Yeah. Look, I�ve got a question for you. Did you see Tuesday Night Heat? Yes, when I fought Nuno. Right. Don't remind me. Okay, well....do you think I lost it already? My edge, my skill. Did I lost it? Because, that little fuck reversed my God-damned finishing move and beat me with a fucking splash. A SPLASH. Yeah, I know the fall knocked the wind out of me. Yeah, I know it was a damn good splash. It doesn�t matter. I DON�T CARE IF IT WAS NON-TITLE. It could have been a title match, man. I could have lost it, just like that. Look. I had that match won in well under a minute. Sure, it was no fourteen second victory like Serial Thrylla kicking Death Row�s sorry ass, but still. I hit him with The Wandering, I put him up on the top rope, and I brought him to his fucking Journey�s End. I KNOW I DIDN�T HIT THE MOVE. That�s what I�m saying. I did it perfectly, just like I always do. How did that little shit reverse it?! I know it�s impossible to reverse. You know first-hand. Ha ha.... Exactly. The dizziness, the freefall, the headlock cutting off blood and oxygen to the brain....it�s supposed to disorient you so bad you don�t even know what happened until you wake up. How did he do it?! No, he isn�t better than me!!! LOOK AT HIM!!! He went from a self-proclaimed "freak show," then to a so-called "reverend," and now he thinks he�s a fucking giggolo!!! Okay, this guy knows how to work gimmicks like your mom knows how to work a street corner. BADLY. He�s gone through more gimmick changes than DMX!!! How did he pick up a victory on me, Nomad, the greatest EWA International Champion of all time?! That isn�t just bragging, and you know it. Shut up, douchebag. Look, back to my point. Do you think I�ve lost my edge? Really? Dude, I want your honest opinion. I need to know. Alright, man. Thanks a lot. Yeah, you too. Good luck with your family and everything. Okay, I�ll keep in touch. Thanks for the help. Alright. Bye. -=- Nomad turns off the phone, and tosses the Uniden handset onto an ornate endtable near the chair. He gets up and walks across the room, and comes to a stop less than a foot from the glass wall of his penthouse. He stares thoughtfully across the skyline, and takes in a deep breath. The glass fogs slightly as he lets the breath escape from his lips, then quickly clears again. Night has fallen on New York City. Night is when Nomad feels the most at peace -=- 
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