Post by Hitman Supreme on Jan 26, 2007 1:52:39 GMT 1
Fridayday 26th January 2007: 10.30am
Hitman Supreme: a changed man.
A lot has happened to him over the past two years. He'd had a chance to think. A chance to regret.
Since the AHWA had ceased to exist, there had been so much going through his mind. He hadn't left on the best of terms with the federation. He'd made a hell of a lot of enemies...but at the same time, he thought about the friends he'd made; his previous stable mates Mike Stader and the Candyman to name a couple. Good friends. Allies, in fact!
He sat in his apartment. Alone. His mind was racing. He'd rented out a luxury penthouse apartment near the UWA arena indefinately so he wouldn't have to travel far to work if need be. 'Very lazy', he thought 'but what the hell! I should treat myself once in a while!'.
Sitting at his desk, he thought to himself how proud he was at managing to sort out his desktop PC. But by "sort out", Hitman knew he really meant get it out the storage box, plug it in and manage to get the screen to come on without any flashes or smoke! He'd actually had the thing switched on for about 20 minutes already, but he was still working up the courage to do what he'd originally intended.
'Here goes', he thought. He opened his inbox and let out a huge sigh. Since it had been announced that Hitman Supreme, the ex-AHWA superstar, had accepted a contract to work for the UWA, he'd recieved insurmountable emails from various disgruntled fans, mainly from the AHWA, who had decided that his return was not the best news they'd ever heard. He hadn't even managed to get around to setting up and internet blog site, and already people were doing anything they could to make sure he knew just where they were coming from!
The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't blame them!
From the moment he joined the AHWA, he'd made it his mission to get to the top of the tree by any way he could. He made unnecessary alliances. He lied. He cheated. He stood behind people he hadn't really needed. Essentially, the success he'd amassed in the AHWA...was a fake! Plus, he couldn't really expect the fans to like him after the attitude he adopted. He'd strutted around the AHWA locker rooms and corridors, cock sure of himself, and had essentially been a racist towards the Dutch. Frankly, he was ashamed of himself.
'Why am I back here? No-one wants me back! I should have just quit whilst I had the chance', he thought to himself as he got up from his chair. He walked to the kitchen area of the apartment, but as he did something caught his eye. He stepped back to look what it was and came face to face with his reflection. It wasn't in a mirror that he caught himself looking in either; it was an old photograph of himself. In it, he was holding the AHWA European Championship high above his head. He was smiling, and for good reason.
He was lost in a world of nostlagia so far away, he almost didn't hear the buzzer from the gate outside his apartment. Shaking his head briefly, he quickly moved to the receiver for the buzzer. Gently picking it up, he took a deep breath. 'And so it begins...'
Hitman: "Hello?"
Voice: "Supremo!? My God, it's been years since I've heard that familiar English twang!"
Hitman recognised the voice, and immediately felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to face up to things so quickly, especialy in the state of mind he was currently in. But then, he might as well get it over with.
Hitman: "Stew Bigsley?! What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you'd been arrested on molestation charges or something?"
Stew: "You know me, Supremo...always ready to conduct an interview for the fans!"
Hitman: "Yeah, whatever! Come on up! Let me buzz you in!"
He pressed the buzzer and stood around the door waiting for Stew to make his way up to the top floor. Five minutes later, Hitman found himself entertaining a guest he never knew he'd be having. Stew had poked around the apartment, helped himself to food out of Hitman's fridge and promptly thrown himself onto Hitman's imported leather cofa with a beer in his hands. Despite all this, however, Hitman just stood and watched him. Over the past couple of years, he'd had a chance to fully comprehend how much he hated Stew!
Hitman: "Now that you've officially moved in now Stew...what had you got in mind?"
Stew: "Haha! Oh, Supremo..."
Hitman: "Call me Hitman! My friends call me Supremo"
Stew: "Fair enough. Although, I hear that you don't have many of those left"
Hitman: "......"
Stew: "Am I right?"
Hitman: "What's your point? Did you come to rub that in my face?"
Stew: "Not at all! I just wanted to hear it from 'the horse's mouth' as it were."
Hitman: "You want my side of the story Stew? Okay then...where do you want me to start? How about when I first joined the AHWA? Or would you just prefer me to run down a list of all the mistakes I made in the AHWA? It hasn't been easy over the past couple of years coming to terms with that, you know? I made a hell of a lot of mistakes. Too many for me to remember. I spent most of my time regretting what I either said or did to people. The rest of my time was spent watching my back!"
Stew: "But what about now? That was the AHWA; this is the UWA! Time to wipe the slate clean, and all that"
Hitman: "It's not as easy as 'all that' Stew! For God's Sake, I don't even know why I accepted the contract for the UWA. I was of two minds as to whether to make a come back or not. From the moment I set foot in the AHWA I hid behind the Allied Force. I hid behind the Outcasts of Fate. I hid behind the Elite. I never truly stood up for myself. What gives anyone any impression that I'm going to be any different in the UWA? I certainly don't!"
Stew: "Wait! You don't?"
Hitman: "No, of course I don't. For a start, I've been out of the game for a good two years now. Do I deserve a second chance like this?! I know of at least 100 people who would say 'No'. And they're all fans of the AHWA! All of them paying customers who came to see me insult them. I can look after myself, so I'm not worried about my health. But I am worried about my reputation. It was in tatters when I left the business. I'd done so much damage to my career, there was no chance of me being able to get any respect from anyone ever again. And that's what I wanted from the start...Respect! Okay, the titles were great! But every turn I made, people were waiting for me, ready to knock me back down again.
That's what I want this time around. I want the chance to prove myself! I'm a foreigner in this country! My ways and attotudes are different...and last time, they got my in serious trouble. But I want to use this chance to prove that I can and have changed! I may be the same wrestler I was 2 ears ago, but that doesn't mean I'm the same man. But what do I know?"
Stew: "Hitman, you do know you're facing Marco Solo, right? He'll kick your ass whilst you're in this mood!"
Hitman: "Yeah, you're right. But then, maybe I need a good ass kicking? However, I don't think Marco's the one to give it to me. You know the history we've got with each other Stew. Marco and I first knew each other before I even considered joining the AHWA. And even back then he was full of himself. All the while, I couldn't go 5 minutes without hearing about him and his sordid little collection of friends. But it even got to the point where we were just calling each other names. Now, tell me, what's the point in that? I can immediately think of better things to do with our time! We were both childish! And frankly, I need proof that Marco has changed before I start to take him seriously! I doubt it though; if his ego is anything like it used to be, he'll be lucky if he can get to the ring without dragging his head along behind him."
Stew: "I haven't seen him yet, Hitman, but I imagine he's pretty well prepared for his comeback! This isn't the Hitman I used to know. You used to be ready to kick my ass at a moment's notice...and now, you don't seem bothered about anything!"
Hitman: "Quite frankly, Stew...I don't really care about much any more. Whenever I contemplate about the way things were...and how they might have been instead, it just makes me ill. At the moment, I just wanted to back into the swing of things. I want a chance to dust off the cobwebs and get back into that ring. But..."
He stopped. His eyes had wandered back to the photo of him and the AHWA European Championship. As he looked, he felt a smile creep across his face and a fire well up in his soul which he hadn't felt for a good many years now.
Hitman: "You know what Stew? What am I moping about?! Let's bring on the fight! Can you remember how many titles I won in the AHWA? Twelve! I was a Twelve Time Champion! I was damn good at what I did. I held the AHWA European Championship for over One Hundred and Twenty Days!! And yet, with all that pressure and all that fear of slipping and losing it all, I stood proud and I kicked some AHWA asses! I might have been the foreigner, but I was damn good at what I did. And yet, all the while, I sought respect from the people!
Now, of course I appreciate that Marco has been in the business longer than I have. He has his contacts and has won more than his share of titles. But I can tell you rght here, right now...I can bet you that I'm the one who's appreciated it more. I always got the impression that Marco never truly appreciated anything he got from anything he ever did. He led the stable The Allied Forces! Did he appreciate the allies he made there? He won Thirteen titles. Did he appreciate how much more responsibility it would entail for him? I don't think he did in any respect of what he did...and I'm sure he still doesn't. I don't what know what he's got to say on the subject, and quite frankly I don't want to know. Marco had his chance in the AHWA, and in my opinion he wasted it. Now, it's time for someone else to make sure the fans get what they deserve; a damn good night out!
I want to go out there on Saturday and be certain that I'm doing the right thing. Not for me, though...for the people! I may be English, but I'm going to give the people a first show they'll never forget! I want to show them that I have left behind me the regrets of the AHWA! Time to give them Hell!"
Stew: "Oh yeah! Right on! Sound great...whilst you're up, can you get me another beer?"
Hitman: "And you, Stew, can get your ass off my sofa and get out my apartment. I've got some preparation to do before Saturday!"
Stew: "Okay, geez! Take a chill pill! See you Saturday then?"
Hitman: "You can count on it!"
As Hitman slammed the door in Stew's face, he slowly lowered himself onto his haunches and looked around his apartment and took in the memories of his past life. His photo with the European Championship. The card from his Respect match with Mike Stader. The video of his World title win. He sighed again, this time in relief. He had done a damn good job.
But as he looked, his eyes were drawn to the one thing he'd hoped he'd forget about. Something which took him straight back to his former life in the AHWA!
His weapons locker.
There were a lot of bad memories locked away in there, and he swore that he wouldn't revisit them, as long as he was still able to wrestle. He'd have to let his actions do the talking!
'Could I do it? After all this time? With the reputation I had?', he thought to himself. He'd have to!
Hitman Supreme: a changed man.
A lot has happened to him over the past two years. He'd had a chance to think. A chance to regret.
Since the AHWA had ceased to exist, there had been so much going through his mind. He hadn't left on the best of terms with the federation. He'd made a hell of a lot of enemies...but at the same time, he thought about the friends he'd made; his previous stable mates Mike Stader and the Candyman to name a couple. Good friends. Allies, in fact!
He sat in his apartment. Alone. His mind was racing. He'd rented out a luxury penthouse apartment near the UWA arena indefinately so he wouldn't have to travel far to work if need be. 'Very lazy', he thought 'but what the hell! I should treat myself once in a while!'.
Sitting at his desk, he thought to himself how proud he was at managing to sort out his desktop PC. But by "sort out", Hitman knew he really meant get it out the storage box, plug it in and manage to get the screen to come on without any flashes or smoke! He'd actually had the thing switched on for about 20 minutes already, but he was still working up the courage to do what he'd originally intended.
'Here goes', he thought. He opened his inbox and let out a huge sigh. Since it had been announced that Hitman Supreme, the ex-AHWA superstar, had accepted a contract to work for the UWA, he'd recieved insurmountable emails from various disgruntled fans, mainly from the AHWA, who had decided that his return was not the best news they'd ever heard. He hadn't even managed to get around to setting up and internet blog site, and already people were doing anything they could to make sure he knew just where they were coming from!
The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't blame them!
From the moment he joined the AHWA, he'd made it his mission to get to the top of the tree by any way he could. He made unnecessary alliances. He lied. He cheated. He stood behind people he hadn't really needed. Essentially, the success he'd amassed in the AHWA...was a fake! Plus, he couldn't really expect the fans to like him after the attitude he adopted. He'd strutted around the AHWA locker rooms and corridors, cock sure of himself, and had essentially been a racist towards the Dutch. Frankly, he was ashamed of himself.
'Why am I back here? No-one wants me back! I should have just quit whilst I had the chance', he thought to himself as he got up from his chair. He walked to the kitchen area of the apartment, but as he did something caught his eye. He stepped back to look what it was and came face to face with his reflection. It wasn't in a mirror that he caught himself looking in either; it was an old photograph of himself. In it, he was holding the AHWA European Championship high above his head. He was smiling, and for good reason.
He was lost in a world of nostlagia so far away, he almost didn't hear the buzzer from the gate outside his apartment. Shaking his head briefly, he quickly moved to the receiver for the buzzer. Gently picking it up, he took a deep breath. 'And so it begins...'
Hitman: "Hello?"
Voice: "Supremo!? My God, it's been years since I've heard that familiar English twang!"
Hitman recognised the voice, and immediately felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to face up to things so quickly, especialy in the state of mind he was currently in. But then, he might as well get it over with.
Hitman: "Stew Bigsley?! What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you'd been arrested on molestation charges or something?"
Stew: "You know me, Supremo...always ready to conduct an interview for the fans!"
Hitman: "Yeah, whatever! Come on up! Let me buzz you in!"
He pressed the buzzer and stood around the door waiting for Stew to make his way up to the top floor. Five minutes later, Hitman found himself entertaining a guest he never knew he'd be having. Stew had poked around the apartment, helped himself to food out of Hitman's fridge and promptly thrown himself onto Hitman's imported leather cofa with a beer in his hands. Despite all this, however, Hitman just stood and watched him. Over the past couple of years, he'd had a chance to fully comprehend how much he hated Stew!
Hitman: "Now that you've officially moved in now Stew...what had you got in mind?"
Stew: "Haha! Oh, Supremo..."
Hitman: "Call me Hitman! My friends call me Supremo"
Stew: "Fair enough. Although, I hear that you don't have many of those left"
Hitman: "......"
Stew: "Am I right?"
Hitman: "What's your point? Did you come to rub that in my face?"
Stew: "Not at all! I just wanted to hear it from 'the horse's mouth' as it were."
Hitman: "You want my side of the story Stew? Okay then...where do you want me to start? How about when I first joined the AHWA? Or would you just prefer me to run down a list of all the mistakes I made in the AHWA? It hasn't been easy over the past couple of years coming to terms with that, you know? I made a hell of a lot of mistakes. Too many for me to remember. I spent most of my time regretting what I either said or did to people. The rest of my time was spent watching my back!"
Stew: "But what about now? That was the AHWA; this is the UWA! Time to wipe the slate clean, and all that"
Hitman: "It's not as easy as 'all that' Stew! For God's Sake, I don't even know why I accepted the contract for the UWA. I was of two minds as to whether to make a come back or not. From the moment I set foot in the AHWA I hid behind the Allied Force. I hid behind the Outcasts of Fate. I hid behind the Elite. I never truly stood up for myself. What gives anyone any impression that I'm going to be any different in the UWA? I certainly don't!"
Stew: "Wait! You don't?"
Hitman: "No, of course I don't. For a start, I've been out of the game for a good two years now. Do I deserve a second chance like this?! I know of at least 100 people who would say 'No'. And they're all fans of the AHWA! All of them paying customers who came to see me insult them. I can look after myself, so I'm not worried about my health. But I am worried about my reputation. It was in tatters when I left the business. I'd done so much damage to my career, there was no chance of me being able to get any respect from anyone ever again. And that's what I wanted from the start...Respect! Okay, the titles were great! But every turn I made, people were waiting for me, ready to knock me back down again.
That's what I want this time around. I want the chance to prove myself! I'm a foreigner in this country! My ways and attotudes are different...and last time, they got my in serious trouble. But I want to use this chance to prove that I can and have changed! I may be the same wrestler I was 2 ears ago, but that doesn't mean I'm the same man. But what do I know?"
Stew: "Hitman, you do know you're facing Marco Solo, right? He'll kick your ass whilst you're in this mood!"
Hitman: "Yeah, you're right. But then, maybe I need a good ass kicking? However, I don't think Marco's the one to give it to me. You know the history we've got with each other Stew. Marco and I first knew each other before I even considered joining the AHWA. And even back then he was full of himself. All the while, I couldn't go 5 minutes without hearing about him and his sordid little collection of friends. But it even got to the point where we were just calling each other names. Now, tell me, what's the point in that? I can immediately think of better things to do with our time! We were both childish! And frankly, I need proof that Marco has changed before I start to take him seriously! I doubt it though; if his ego is anything like it used to be, he'll be lucky if he can get to the ring without dragging his head along behind him."
Stew: "I haven't seen him yet, Hitman, but I imagine he's pretty well prepared for his comeback! This isn't the Hitman I used to know. You used to be ready to kick my ass at a moment's notice...and now, you don't seem bothered about anything!"
Hitman: "Quite frankly, Stew...I don't really care about much any more. Whenever I contemplate about the way things were...and how they might have been instead, it just makes me ill. At the moment, I just wanted to back into the swing of things. I want a chance to dust off the cobwebs and get back into that ring. But..."
He stopped. His eyes had wandered back to the photo of him and the AHWA European Championship. As he looked, he felt a smile creep across his face and a fire well up in his soul which he hadn't felt for a good many years now.
Hitman: "You know what Stew? What am I moping about?! Let's bring on the fight! Can you remember how many titles I won in the AHWA? Twelve! I was a Twelve Time Champion! I was damn good at what I did. I held the AHWA European Championship for over One Hundred and Twenty Days!! And yet, with all that pressure and all that fear of slipping and losing it all, I stood proud and I kicked some AHWA asses! I might have been the foreigner, but I was damn good at what I did. And yet, all the while, I sought respect from the people!
Now, of course I appreciate that Marco has been in the business longer than I have. He has his contacts and has won more than his share of titles. But I can tell you rght here, right now...I can bet you that I'm the one who's appreciated it more. I always got the impression that Marco never truly appreciated anything he got from anything he ever did. He led the stable The Allied Forces! Did he appreciate the allies he made there? He won Thirteen titles. Did he appreciate how much more responsibility it would entail for him? I don't think he did in any respect of what he did...and I'm sure he still doesn't. I don't what know what he's got to say on the subject, and quite frankly I don't want to know. Marco had his chance in the AHWA, and in my opinion he wasted it. Now, it's time for someone else to make sure the fans get what they deserve; a damn good night out!
I want to go out there on Saturday and be certain that I'm doing the right thing. Not for me, though...for the people! I may be English, but I'm going to give the people a first show they'll never forget! I want to show them that I have left behind me the regrets of the AHWA! Time to give them Hell!"
Stew: "Oh yeah! Right on! Sound great...whilst you're up, can you get me another beer?"
Hitman: "And you, Stew, can get your ass off my sofa and get out my apartment. I've got some preparation to do before Saturday!"
Stew: "Okay, geez! Take a chill pill! See you Saturday then?"
Hitman: "You can count on it!"
As Hitman slammed the door in Stew's face, he slowly lowered himself onto his haunches and looked around his apartment and took in the memories of his past life. His photo with the European Championship. The card from his Respect match with Mike Stader. The video of his World title win. He sighed again, this time in relief. He had done a damn good job.
But as he looked, his eyes were drawn to the one thing he'd hoped he'd forget about. Something which took him straight back to his former life in the AHWA!
His weapons locker.
There were a lot of bad memories locked away in there, and he swore that he wouldn't revisit them, as long as he was still able to wrestle. He'd have to let his actions do the talking!
'Could I do it? After all this time? With the reputation I had?', he thought to himself. He'd have to!