PROMO: Foreshadowing

[Toxxic 0]

The man lying on the hospital bed is young; probably not much more than 25 or 26. His plastered leg is up in a sling and he's reading a magazine; typical hospital affair, a glossy with lots of spurious information about 'stars' and 'celebrities' with too much money and not enough braincells. After trying and failing for five minutes to get interested in the antics of this week's C-listers, he lowers the mag with a sigh of frustration and boredom...

 

...and sees someone standing at the end of his bed. It takes him a moment to recognise his visitor; there have been changes in the last four years. The hair's longer now, and he doesn't remember the thin network of scars that catch the light for a second across the new arrival's face, but the painted nails would always be a giveaway. Those and the eyes.

 

"...Toxx?" he says, sitting up in shock before his leg gives a twinge of protest and he settles back down, "ow, goddamn..."

 

"Heya Karl," the man formerly known as Toxxic and more commonly now known as Michael Stephens says soberly. He stands there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

 

"C'mon, sit down!" Karl Winter says, gesturing to the chair beside the bed and with a big grin breaking out over his face. "Jeez man, I ain't seen you in years! How'd you know I was here?"

 

"You made the news," Stephens informs him, sitting down after a moment's hesitation. Seeing Karl's confusion he smiles slightly. "Well... you made the Panda, anyway."

 

"Figures," Karl mutters, settling down into his pillow, "I haven't seen it. What does it say?"

 

"I brought you a copy," Stephens says, pulling a copy of the Wrestling Panda newsletter out of his black holdall, "I figured you could do with something to read-"

 

"-ain't that the truth," Karl puts in, taking it gratefully.

 

"-but basically, it says that you got injured in a match in Philly," Mike continues. "Figured I'd drop in seeing as I haven't seen you in... a long time."

 

"Yeah man," Karl says, skimming the Panda briefly and then putting it aside, "but I'm telling you Toxx, that guy in the ring, the Scarlet Dragon apparently... he was a freak. A complete whacko."

 

"How so?"

 

"Well, first of all he didn't make no noise," Karl says, "nothing except a grunt or something if I hit him or locked something on. And of course, he was wearing that mask so I couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel his eyes, know what I mean?"

 

"Yeah..." Stephens says, looking slightly distant for a moment.

 

"So anyway, he's a tough bastard but I'm getting the better of him," Karl says, "but then all of a sudden, WHAM! He's got me in this leg lock and I swear to you Toxx, I could feel my leg going. Strong as hell. So o'course, I started tapping out. Didn't make a damn bit of difference. He kept going, with me screaming blue murder, until they figure that ringing the bell ain't gonna do anything and all the refs and security and everything come down and get him off me. Last I saw of him he was going to the back."

 

"So what's the damage?" Mike asks, nodding towards the plastered leg. Karl winces.

 

"Torn cruciate ligament. Bastard pretty much broke my ankle too."

 

"Metatarsal?" Stephens asks.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Don't worry," Mike says, "you'd probably have to be English... but seriously Karl, that's crazy. You'd never seen this guy before?"

 

"Nuh-uh," Winter replies, shaking his head, "well, I've been on a few of the same cards here and there but never been in the ring with him before. He's a regular in Philly though; on the way up here a couple of the guys who came with me were saying that they know he can be tough on people, but they'd never thought he'd snap like that."

 

"Crazy," Stephens mutters, looking at the leg as if it holds the answers.

 

"I'll tell you something Toxx, when I get out of here I'm gonna sue that promoter," Karl insists, "and I'm gonna make sure he doesn't let that bastard work in Philly again. I mean if it was a long-running issue we had with each other then yeah, these things happen, but a first match? Damn it man, that's not right!"

 

"Sounds like a plan," Stephens says, "maybe you should... oh shit."

 

Karl looks up. Standing in the doorway is a petite female in her early twenties with black hair highlighted with two purple streaks on one side, and wearing bright red lipstick. Her eyes slide from Karl to Mike, and narrow.

 

"Oh shit."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Livvy Luscious hisses. Her and Michael Stephens are walking down the ward, away from Karl's bed; he's having a doctor talk to him about likely recovering times, and it has been made clear by the medical staff that visitors should be somewhere else.

 

"Visiting Karl," Stephens snaps, "and what bloody business is it of yours anyway?"

 

"And let me guess, how often have you visited him in the past four years since we finished training?" Livvy asks, having to hurry slightly to keep up with the taller Englishman and clearly not relishing this fact, "no, don't tell me, you were too busy off playing World Champion."

 

"I wasn't playing at anything, Liv," Stephens growls, thrusting his palm into a swinging door harder than strictly necessary, "and to me, it seems that friends who turn up when you're injured are still valuable. Karl's been a busy man and from what I've heard, has hardly stopped between one show and the next. Now he's in one place, he's got a bit of time to catch up with people." He stops suddenly and turns around, fixing her with a stare. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I've kept in touch with Karl," Livvy snaps, placing her hands on her hips.

 

"So I see," Mike replies, "but I was watching you in the, oh, five minutes we were both with him? And yeah, I might not have seen him for four years and still ran out of conversation, but you can't stand him. I could tell, even if he couldn't. So why are you still in touch with him, if you can't stand him?"

 

"I..." Livvy begins, then stops and seems to sag slightly. "I felt that I should."

 

"Well, yeah, so did I," Stephens admits. "And I didn't. Which is why I'm here now." His grey eyes drift off past Livvy for a moment. "But hey, we all watched a man get killed in front of us. Kind of a bonding experience."

 

"Shut up!" Livvy hisses, and suddenly the venom is back in her voice as she brushes past Mike and storms off. The Englishman rolls his eyes, then turns and hurries after her.

 

"Let me guess, you still blame me for that?" he asks quietly, keeping pace.

 

"Believe me Toxx, I still blame you for a LOT of things," Liv replies, emotion threatening to drown her voice. She tries to quicken her pace and leave her companion behind, but Stephens lengthens his stride easily to match her, bringing a hiss of frustration.

 

"Well, you needn't worry about at least one of those things anymore," Stephens says pointedly, "cos I'm gay now."

 

"Oh and let me guess, you blame me for that?"

 

"Don't think I haven't considered it," Mike answers darkly, then abruptly seems to tire of their hurried walking and simply grabs her arm, yanking her to a halt. Livvy spins around and lashes out at him, probably more a fist than a slap, but he catches her arm.

 

"Listen sunshine," he growls, "you can blame me all you want, but you ain't exactly Miss Squeaky Clean. And in case you forgot, it was me and Karl who pulled Our Mutual Friend off that guy, not you. We just didn't do it quick enough." Livvy meets his eyes for a moment, then shudders with what might be revulsion and pulls away.

 

"Give me your number."

 

"Say what now?" Stephens asks, looking genuinely confused. However, he gets his phone out and Livvy snatches it from him, then dials her own phone. It gives one ring before she cuts it off, then pushes Mike's phone back to him and holds her own up triumphantly for him to see.

 

"Toxx," she says, eyes glinting, "I'm going to put this number into every phone I own or will ever own. And that way, when Call ID flashes up your name, I will know to never pick up." She replaces the phone in her pocket, not taking her eyes from his face.

 

"Now go to hell."

 

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks away. Force of habit, albeit from a few years ago, draws Mike's eyes down to her backside. Then he shakes his head and starts to walk off in the other direction.

 

"Go to hell..." the SWF World Champion mutters under his breath, "gee, does the Fictional World Tour count? Bitch."

 

However, he makes sure to go through his call register and save the last number dialled.

 

 

~FIN

 

 

...for now

[Above Average 0]

I went back to read this one so that I could try and put all the pieces together. I'm surprised this promo got no love, as it's very well done. I like the little details like Toxx's reaction to finding out his friend is considered a mechanic and Livvy's Caller ID line. Good stuff.

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

Well, speaking just for myself, I didn't comment on it because the whole thing went over my head.

 

In fact, having read his most recent promo... it's still over my head.

[HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0]

Someones out to kill Toxxic.