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Parking Lot Party; -=Amazingly Haunted=-
Topic Started: Mar 7 2015, 03:28 AM (62 Views)
Willie
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-=Badd Breed=-
[ *  *  *  * ]
The Toyota Center parking garage. Johnny Amazing has his head stuck in his rental car, feeling around under the passenger seat for a good couple of minutes before he produces a phone charger.

"Gotcha, you little bastard."

Having conquered the lost charger, Johnny steps out and slams the door shut so he can head back into the arena.

Got a minute?

Uh oh. Erik Holland's here. How the hell did he get here? Does he have one of those flying bicycles from the Wizard of Oz? Maybe a network of tunnels that the Mole People dug for him? Nevertheless he's here and he's standing about a hundred paces from where we see Johnny Amazing, a leather jacket and an FIW Tour t-shirt over his wrestling gear. So he's been at the arena the whole time, we think.

"Oh. Uh... hey."

A typical greeting when you're met with Erik Holland in a parking garage. Well, you know, other than running away screaming.

"A minute? Yeah, I guess."

The minute is ticking by so slowly and Johnny is already eying the elevator that could be carrying him up to the more populated area of the arena.

"What's up?"

We need to talk. About the title match...about Mark Cannon.

Erik sees how wary Amazing is and keeps his distance. Or maybe it's because the shadows he's standing in just look righteous.

You've been talkin' ever since this happened about gettin' Cannon in the ring, stomping his guts out...And I was gonna' stay out of your way and let you handle your business like a man. But they gave me a title shot, Johnny. I didn't ask to be put in that fatal four way, just...happened that way. And I don't turn opportunities down. The ball bounced my way this time and I don't plan on fumblin' it. I guess what I wanna know, right now, is are you gonna' let me handle my business, or are you thinking you're gonna cost me my shot for costing you yours?

All the subtlety of a chainsaw, there, Erik.

Johnny... thinks about it. The correct answer is to swear to Holland that you are not going to get in his way. You tell someone like him that you are not going to be a problem for him. But Johnny thinks about it.

"Thought about jumping him beforehand."

He shrugs. He can't apologize for his honesty.

"I thought about coming down there, taking the belt that I know I should have, and bashing his face in with it. Honestly, I haven't thought about you. I haven't thought about much other than when the best time will be to kick his ass."

Johnny lets out a big, long breath. He nervously twists the phone charger cord around his fingers while confessing his planned intentions to Holland.

"But that's not my style."

There's another shrug from Johnny. He can't apologize for that either, apparently.

"When I take care of him, it's going to be in the ring the way it's supposed to be. I'm going to prove him wrong by beating him the right way and taking what should be mine the right way."

Does Erik look...PROUD of him? Whatever that look is on his face, he leans back against the car next to him. Might be his, might not be. We don't know and he doesn't care.

Good answer. You ain't lettin' him change who you are, Johnny. If you went down there, smacked him upside the head with the title? Sure, it'd be fun to watch him bleed and squirm....but it wouldn't prove shit. Wouldn't prove shit other than you ain't any better than he is. But like you said..

Now Erik approaches him.

That ain't you. And it'd break my fuckin' heart to see you do anythin' different. So let me put it this way. I'm gonna' beat Mark Cannon within an inch of his worthless life this ReVolt. I'm gonna' take the Fighting Spirit Championship. I'm gonna' leave just enough of him so you get your chance to take his head, like you want...and then you get the first shot against me. Let me do me, and I'll let you do you. Sound good?

Instead of reaching out for the customary handshake that would usually end a declaration like that, Erik steps backwards a couple times to allow himself to be swallowed by the shadows again, and once again Johnny is left alone. Left alone to think, left alone to return to the arena. Whatever he does, it's up to him, because we've gone to break.
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Lita Maivia
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Johnny stands alone in the parking lot for a moment, watching the shadows that Erik Holland slipped into it. There's something about the way Johnny looks after him that makes it impossible to figure out if that "sounds good" to him or not. He shakes his head and enters the elevator to leave the parking garage.

By the time Johnny returns to the gym, Brittany is cursing her iPhone battery. I'm sure she's not cursing it was actual swear words because that's just crazy. So probably some kind of black arts curse. She looks up as Johnny enters and tosses her the charge that she catches with a gleeful grin. Within seconds the phone is plugged into the wall and she is back in service.

"You know, I think it's time to upgrade these things. The batteries are dying so much faster."

She shakes her head at the phone and sets it down on the bench near the wall outlet. Johnny nods, shrugs, and reapplies his gloves for battering the punching bag that hangs from the ceiling.

"Everything okay?"

Noticing his unusual quietness, Brittany swings her legs over the bench to face Johnny, almost studying his expression and mannerisms. All she gets is a shrug as he continues to work the bag over. Brittany sighs and gets to her feet, rounding the bag to hold it steady while Johnny continues to make it pay for being a bag in a gym.

"I thought we were forgetting about Mark."

"No. You are."

He corrects her rather succinctly and Brittany can only nod. Because he's right. That was the order.

"He's Erik's this week. Remember that."

Johnny ceases his workout with an exhausted sigh.

"Holland wants the belt. He's going to take the belt. That's what he says. He's going to kick Mark's ass, take the belt, and leave just enough of him for me."

Brittany waits for more of the story, but there is none. She shrugs her shoulders, clearly confused by what the problem is.

"And? Isn't that what you want?"

"No."

Johnny sighs again and walks away from the punching bag. He drops into a seat on the bench and Brittany rounds the bag again, crossing her arms as she looks down at Johnny.

"No, that's not what I want. I want the... it's personal, yes. This thing between me and Mark is very personal. It started personal, and it's just gotten more and more personal every fucking week that he acts like an asshole."

"But you don't want to... what? Get leftovers? Is this some kind of pride thing?"

"It's not pride. I mean... I don't know. I want the Fighting Spirit Championship. God, that's all I've wanted since I came here. To prove that I could be a champion. I want to prove that I can do this thing the right fucking way but nobody will let me!"

Johnny lets out a burst of frustration and then takes a deep breath to calm himself back down.

"I had that belt. It was in my hand and he took it from me..."

Brittany frowns, watching on in silence as Johnny appears to be reliving the moment again. He holds his hands out in front of him, staring at them as if the belt were still there.

"...and I let him."

He mutters that last thought in disgust.

"I helped him become what he is right now."

Brittany moves to sit alongside Johnny, putting an arm over his shoulders in something of a hug.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Johnny. You were trying to be a friend. That's what you are. You're a good person and you want to help people. That's not something to be ashamed of."

Johnny hangs his head, falling completely silent against Brittany's encouragement towards his way of doing things. The way that results in him not being Fighting Spirit Championship and winning very little matches.

After a long moment, he raises his head back up.

"Erik Holland can't take the Fighting Spirit Championship from him. Nobody can. I have to."

Brittany's arm slips from his shoulders and she looks over at him, her eyes narrowing a little concern.

"What are you going to do?"

Johnny rises from the bench, slowly removes the gloves on his hands and starts for the door. Brittany spins around on the bench.

"John, what are you going to do?"

He stops for a moment with his back to Brittany. He shrugs his shoulders and then walks out of the gym without a word.
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