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No, time is ticking down until Thrylla and Chandler get a little reminder. Extreme Wrestling Association....it HAS been awhile. -=- Nomad walks up to the door, and reads a sign across it -=- Condemned....ha. Just like the federation itself. -=- Nomad gives the door a quick kick, and it swings open with a light cracking noise. He walks into the old, empty arena, and into a large open area. The bleachers are neglected and dusty, free of human contact for three years. A full-size ring stands in a large clearing in the middle of the seating. Nomad takes off his sunglasses and walks slowly, meaningfully over to the ring, climbs up the steps, and steps through the ropes. He takes a deep breath -=- This ring has a lot of meaning for a few special men. This ring is literally soaked with the blood, sweat, and tears of a few dreamers. A few visionaries in this industry. Tom Stone. Nick Diamante. The Regulators. Nomad. Chandler. Thrylla. We were the EWA. We were the foundation. We fought time and time again not just for titles, not just for marks in the “win” column, and not just for our pride. We fought for this company. We did everything in our power to make this the best company the wrestling world had ever seen. And we succeeded. We used to stand in this very ring and cut promos, fight matches, and get our asses kicked night in and night out. We wrestled for one hundred, five hundred, a thousand people at a time when this company first hit the market. See that balcony over there? -=- Nomad points to a balcony about thirty feet off the floor, right off the bleacher-style seating -=- I threw myself off that balcony in a match with T-N-T. Why did I do it? I did it to make a name for myself. I did it to get the win by any means neccessary. I did it to prove myself to Tom, to the other boys in the back, and to myself. And I did it to draw the public eye to the Extreme Wrestling Association. I’m not the only one. Thrylla gave his knee for this place. Chandler gave his sanity. We all took a chunk out of our beings for these walls, for that marquee over the doorway. And you know what? When the dust had settled, when the bleeding had stopped, and when that bell had rung....it all paid off. -=- Nomad walks to the corner of the ring, and leans against the turnbuckle pads -=- When people look back on the recent history of wrestling, three letters come to mind. E, W, and A. We turned a hobby into history. We turned a set of Lincoln Logs into the God-damned Sears Tower. We gave of ourselves to give to something even bigger. Three men stood atop the world, then. Serial Thrylla, Clayton Chandler, and myself. We all made our mark, but somehow I got left behind in the record books. Oh, I got credit. But they got the spotlight. Maybe it was Thrylla’s charisma, or Chandler’s ability to overcome his own size. But apparently I didn’t have what it took to make it onto magazine covers. I couldn’t fill the seats. BUT I PROVED THEM WRONG, DAMNIT. -=- Nomad’s eyes flash with a sudden brilliant anger, and he looks up -=- I am a former two-time EWA International Champion. I am a former EWA World Champion. Thrylla? Chandler? I BEAT THEM BOTH. The three of us met one time and one time only, and only one man could walk away. Who was that man? Who walked out with their hand raised? IT WAS ME. I beat the legendary Serial Thrylla, and I beat the legendary Clayton Chandler. Nomad walked in with the World Title, and Nomad walked OUT with the World Title. I went through Hell on Earth with those two men, and I was victorious. Did I fall victim to the DFA? Did Chandler make me tap? FUCK NO. I won that match, and I cemented my spot in the annals of history. I beat two of the most talented and legendary wrestlers the world had to offer at ONCE. Now, history has apparently decided to repeat itself. -=- Nomad pushes off from the ropes, and walks to the middle of the ring -=- I’m sure everyone remembers last Sunday, in the inaugural HIW Royal Rumble. Chandler, you fought long and hard, then went out in style....you were eliminated by a simple rudimentary dropkick. You know, considering you were once a man I feared, considering you USED to be the most dominating force in pro wrestling....it’s kinda’ sad to see what you’ve become now. Clayton, you’re an ego with legs. You’re head is so big that it threw you off balance and let you get eliminated by a rookie. You used to call yourself an “onslaught”. But now you’re nothing more than a shell of a man who’s put himself through too much both physically and emotionally. You don’t have the fire for this business, Clayton. You don’t have the passion to win that once oozed from your very pores. I’ve fought you time and time again, and both of us have come out with the one, two, three. But that was at our peak. We were both on fire back then. Now, you’re sliding down the slope into the twilight of your career. Your fire is little more than an ember that can never be lit again. I, on the other hand, am still the most feared wrestler in the world. Whether I win or not, I HURT YOU. And I HAVE hurt you before, Chandler. And I have no qualms about doing it again. Your journey has been long, and it has been hard, and it has been for NOTHING. Because waiting at the end is me, on Sunday, ready and waiting to break your pathetic shell in half. And when I’m through with you, there’s one more shadow from my past I must take care of. At the end of that Royal Rumble, there were two men left standing. There was me, and there was Serial Thrylla. My best friend, and my arch-nemesis. My greatest ally, and my greatest hurdle. We’ve never met in the ring one-on-one in a fair fight, Thrylla. We’ve never been able to declare a victor in our own personal clash of the titans. You’ve DFA’d the living fuck out of me, and I’ve Journey’s Ended the piss out of you. We’ve had standoff after standoff, and brawl after brawl. But never have we had a true, honest, and pure competition. But now we have our chance. It’s coming down to it now, Thrylla. You and me, one on one for the HIW World Title on July first. We’ve put our blood, our sweat, and our tears into this mat for years. We’ve put our bodies and our careers on the line again and again. And we’ve both fought for the top of the mountain with everything we had. Now we get to see whose efforts pay off, and whose efforts betray them. When we meet in that ring, Thrylla, I won’t just be fighting for that title. I’ll be fighting to see who is truly king of the mountain. And July first, MY flag will be at that peak. Pack your bags, fuckbucket....and YOU KNOW WHY. -=- Nomad strides to the ropes, steps between them, and climbs down the steps. He looks around, says “It’s been awhile....it’s been too long,” to himself, and walks out. His jet black 2002 BMW M Series Roadster speeds off into the distance -=- 
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