Throwing Stones, Building Walls

If you don’t feel anything, then pain is a non-issue....

-=- The shot is the front door to a doctor’s office. More than a doctor, this man is a spinal specialist. The building itself is an old New York City brownstone with a concrete front stoop with wide, flat railings typical in NYC. The doors, made of heavy maple with tall windows that are both frosted and engraved, swing open. Out steps EWA International Champion Nomad wearing a black wife-beater tucked into a pair of slightly baggy cargo jeans. His feet are clad in his usual black paratrooper-issue stomping boots. And his eyes, as always, are hidden behind his Oakley X-Metal Juliet sunglasses with reflective ruby-colored lenses. He descends the steps in front of the building with a slight limp, and reaches the sidewalk. As he begins to walk down the street, we see that he isn’t favoring either of his legs. He’s walking as if he’s trying to reduce the weight pushing down....on his spine. Nomad continues to walk, favoring his back, until he gets to his latest automotive aquisition: A 1988 Honda CRX Si, fully restored. The car has a fresh black paint job, tinted windows, smoked-out headlight covers, custom black taillight casings, and brushed aluminum rims with black accents. The license plate reads “MIDNITE”. As Nomad slips the key into the door, a passer-by stops -=-

Man: Yo, you’re Nomad!!!

Nomad: Your observation skills rival that of an untrained monkey, you know that?

Man: Thanks! Sweet ride, yo! But isn’t that a bit....under your usual standards?

Nomad: Drop a new engine in this baby....transmission, exhaust, shocks....and it’s one of the best cars on the road. Besides, what are YOU driving, butt bandit?

Man: Fuck you, you....you ASS!!!

-=- Nomad sits in his car (while paying cautious attention to the alignment of his spine), closes the door, and starts it up. After lowering the windows, he turns on his Rockford/Fosgate stereo, and "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot blasts over the speakers. He pulls out of his parking spot, and speeds into the distance, headed for his NYC penthouse apartment -=-

While a pebble, by itself, isn’t much....enough pebbles can make a wall....and enough walls can make a fortress.

-=- Nomad opens the door to his penthouse and walks inside. He checks his messages, ignoring anything wrestling related, and makes a mental note to return the calls he cares about. No calls will be made. He does, however, take the handset with him. He opens the fridge and pulls out a SoBe Green Tea, and walks out onto his balcony. After taking a long sip of his SoBe, he sits down in an obscenely expensive patio chair -=-

You know, for all that money, you would think it would be more comfortable than a fuckin’ Simmons BeautyRest. Instead it feels like quarter-inch plywood. But hey, what is money worth these days, anyways?

-=- Nomad sits back in the chair and tips his head back. He groans slightly and adjusts his back’s positioning, and slips off to sleep -=-

Some men dream about supermodels. Some dream about being NASCAR racers. Nomad dreams about a world in which he can crush a child’s throat underfoot and not worry about the legal repercussions.

-=- The phone rings, waking Nomad, who grabs the handset and presses the “Talk” button -=-

Hello?

Yeah, thanks for getting back to me.

Okay, so what’s the MRI show?

A herniated disc? Fuck you!

No, I don’t CARE about the fact that you’re just the messenger.

Listen, whore, there’s no WAY I’m missing any ringtime over this, so stop saying it.

NO! I’m the greatest International Champion in EWA history, and I’m gonna’ prove it! I’m getting in that ring, and I’m kicking Cody Cuntlips’ ass!

FUCK YOU, HE KICKED MY ASS!!!

That was a fluke!!! He did NOT put me out, I landed wrong!!!

It doesn’t matter?!?!?! I have physically DISASSEMBLED men HALF as good as him!!!

MY DISASSEMBLING DAYS ARE OVER?! IT’S JUST A HERNIATED DISC, I’VE WORKED THROUGH HANGNAILS WORSE THAN THIS!!!

Yeah, well maybe I DON’T need your advice!!! That would explain why I’m talking to you like a Times Square hooker, wouldn’t it?!

SUCK A BAG OF DICKS AND CHOKE ON THE LONG ONES!!!!!!

-=- Nomad presses the “Off” button, and hurls the handset over the balcony
railing -=-

Career-threatening injury?! That bitch is on crack. I’ve had worse. Lots worse. This....this is nothing. Nothing compared to what I’m gonna’ do to C4!!! Well....nothing compared to what I WANT to do to C4.....

-=- Nomad gazes out across the New York City skyline, then winces. He reaches behind himself and rubs his back -=-

God damn, that hurts....but it’s not too bad. I can still get in the ring with Cody................I hope.

Enough small injuries can add up to one serious problem. Like pebbles making a wall. Or a fortress.