Vasarian_Brandy 0 Report post Posted October 18, 2004 'He who does not learn from history is doomed to repeat it.' - George Santayana ---------- Deep in the bowels of Arrowhead, I sit in the workers’ locker room, letting the sweat and soreness of another exercise session fade away into the air. Today’s workout had gone well… The little bit of swelling in my knee hadn’t worsened through the 2 hours I put in on the gym equipment. Still, I sit with an icepack gingerly balanced on my knee, leg propped up on a chair to take the pressure off… Better to be safe than sorry. The doctors, both here and back in Seattle, said that it was a minor knee bruise, and it was nothing to worry about: all the other tests they subjected me to turned out good. I had nothing preventing me from wrestling in the upcoming Smarkdown card. Therefore, I kept up my normal routine, just lightening it a little bit by my own precautions. Now that my workout is over, I figure I can take a rest for a bit, then maybe clean up and hit the sights of Anaheim. Right now, however… My eyes are fixated on the television screen in the room, watching to something I thought I’d never see… Hearing something, I thought I’d never hear… “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” I rewind the tape footage for a moment… Watching Toxxic go more blanche white than is the normal… The words that appeared on the Smarktron… The crowd chant… The chill that passes over me isn’t from the icepack. The memories, though years old, suddenly bloomed fresh in my mind. The pain and suffering that the one called Silent had caused me. Suddenly, footsteps coming into the room… My mind snaps to the here and now as I see David Cross, my fellow tag partner, come through the doorway and stop. “Was I interrupting something?” he says, looking at the television… The World Champion staring at the Smarktron, the ankh blazing brightly… “No… Just looking over the last show.” Cross nods slowly, then after a few moments of silence and dropping his stuff by his locker: “How’s the knee?” He motions to the bag o’ ice balanced precariously. “Well, the doctor’s said it was a little too early for amputation.” I chuckle a little bit, but Cross… Well… I shake my head. “It’s fine, really… I’ll be in good shape for my match against Lezaire.” Cross’ eyes narrow just slightly. I can see he’s still smarting emotionally and mentally from his tough loss. I smile a bit, trying to lighten his mood. “You know, too bad it’s not a title bout. I’d gladly give you a go at getting it back when I won. You deserve it.” He shakes his head a little bit, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “No,” he starts, then pauses. “No. I’ve got to earn my shots just like everyone else should.” I notice his emphasis on the ‘should’ as he leans back against one of the lockers. “Besides, I gave it my best, and it wasn’t enough. Maybe that belt’s just not my calling.” “Like Hell it’s not!” I blurt, then smirk, noting he’s wearing his cross around his neck. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Look… Sometimes you give it your all, and things just don’t quite work. I mean, look at me on Lockdown. I should’ve been prepared for any eventuality, and I got upended in a ‘surprise’ match.” I shake my head, sighing. “Always be ready. Always be prepared. And never let your guard down for a moment. Because someone will nail you when you do.” He nods, then smirks at me. “You think those guys will try for a rematch for the belts?” “I wouldn’t put it past them. Considering Davis and his schlep lawyer worked the Hardcore belt off me. When there’s a lawyer involved, all bets are off.” He chuckles at that, then something kinda tugs at the back of my mind. “Hey… You’re off this card, aren’t you?” He nods. “So why are you here?” “Well,” he says with a faint smile. “I figured… I’d come root my Tag Champion cohort on.” I chuckle, and he continues. “Plus, I figured I’d come see how fresh Lezaire would be coming off our match when he’s facing some big-time hungry competition.” “Well thanks.” “Don’t mention it.” He smiles a bit, and then glances at the screen again. “There anything else on your mind?” I follow his glance back to the screen… The crowd’s chants superimposing themselves on the still image in my mind… “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” “No!” I say quickly, a bit too sharply… I take a breath and speak more calmly, noting Cross’ shocked reaction. “No… I mean…” I sigh. “Sorry… I’m just stressed and tired… Working out, having to worry about Davis and Spike trying to get back the Tag Belts… And trying to scout Lezaire.” “Oh,” says Cross, completely unconvinced. “Well… I’m gonna go get some work in… Just in case. Take it easy out there, okay?” “Yeah… Yeah, I will…” With that, Cross heads out the door. My eyes watch the doorway for a moment, and then turn back to the screen… And the tape rolls again… “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” “SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-LENT...” “Just what is your plan, Silent One?” I murmur to myself. “Just what are you going to do?” The tape doesn’t answer me… Only the future may provide the wisdom I seek… Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
