Post by Deleted on Feb 20, 2019 4:04:15 GMT
(Author’s Note 1: This took place immediately after Nighthawk’s match at Extreme Endurance.)
(Author’s Note 2: If necessary, imagine “When The Crowds Are Gone” by Savatage to further set the mood.)
As Nighthawk slowly removes his ring gear in the locker room at the Pepsi Center in Denver, standing in front of his locker in nothing more than a pair of black spandex underwear studying the bruises and welts that are already beginning to form on his muscular frame, the door yawns open and in walks his close friend Andrew Jacobsen who looks like an executioner given a hanging he doesn’t necessarily want.
Nighthawk, turning around to see his friend and throwing a shirt on: “Hey, Andrew. Are we going to dinner tonight?”
Andrew, sad: “No, Tristan, we’re not. I just got off the phone with the rest of the Masters of 1000 Holds. They…. They’re revoking your status as a master.”
Nighthawk, staggering in shock to a nearby chair: “Did they say why? Did they give any reason?”
Andrew: “What you did to Jason Sandman, Tristan. You tried to kill him. I know you understand that. For what it's worth, I fought like hell to make sure you stayed in. But they had the numbers, Tristan. And as hard as I fought, as much as I tried to make them understand, I couldn't. I'm sorry. I figured you deserved to hear it from me. ”
Nighthawk, coolly getting up and getting dressed: “He tried to kill me first. This, what he reaped when he hung me from the back of a locker room just like this, was about honor. And I know the Masters are old warriors now, old men who would not have done what I did. But I’ve always done what was right, what was honorable, what needed doing. And when I avenged a slight against myself, when I avenged a man who wanted to end me, the Masters respond by revoking my status? That’s fine. I’ll live up to the best of the code. I always will. But I am not about, now or ever, to allow someone to try and cripple me just to satisfy some old man’s idea of knightly virtue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get packed and head back home.”
And with that, Nighthawk grabs a half-filled duffel bag from above his head and walks off, his face a mask of cold focus. But as he heads to the door, Andrew turns him around and hugs him before saying:
Andrew: "For what it's worth, I'd take you over every single one of them."
Nighthawk, wiping a tear from his ice-blue eyes: "Thank you for that, genuinely. I'll see you around.... maybe."
(Author’s Note 2: If necessary, imagine “When The Crowds Are Gone” by Savatage to further set the mood.)
As Nighthawk slowly removes his ring gear in the locker room at the Pepsi Center in Denver, standing in front of his locker in nothing more than a pair of black spandex underwear studying the bruises and welts that are already beginning to form on his muscular frame, the door yawns open and in walks his close friend Andrew Jacobsen who looks like an executioner given a hanging he doesn’t necessarily want.
Nighthawk, turning around to see his friend and throwing a shirt on: “Hey, Andrew. Are we going to dinner tonight?”
Andrew, sad: “No, Tristan, we’re not. I just got off the phone with the rest of the Masters of 1000 Holds. They…. They’re revoking your status as a master.”
Nighthawk, staggering in shock to a nearby chair: “Did they say why? Did they give any reason?”
Andrew: “What you did to Jason Sandman, Tristan. You tried to kill him. I know you understand that. For what it's worth, I fought like hell to make sure you stayed in. But they had the numbers, Tristan. And as hard as I fought, as much as I tried to make them understand, I couldn't. I'm sorry. I figured you deserved to hear it from me. ”
Nighthawk, coolly getting up and getting dressed: “He tried to kill me first. This, what he reaped when he hung me from the back of a locker room just like this, was about honor. And I know the Masters are old warriors now, old men who would not have done what I did. But I’ve always done what was right, what was honorable, what needed doing. And when I avenged a slight against myself, when I avenged a man who wanted to end me, the Masters respond by revoking my status? That’s fine. I’ll live up to the best of the code. I always will. But I am not about, now or ever, to allow someone to try and cripple me just to satisfy some old man’s idea of knightly virtue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get packed and head back home.”
And with that, Nighthawk grabs a half-filled duffel bag from above his head and walks off, his face a mask of cold focus. But as he heads to the door, Andrew turns him around and hugs him before saying:
Andrew: "For what it's worth, I'd take you over every single one of them."
Nighthawk, wiping a tear from his ice-blue eyes: "Thank you for that, genuinely. I'll see you around.... maybe."
Well howdy there pardner.