Post by Atlas Adams on Sept 24, 2013 18:27:02 GMT -4
Present day
JFK airport
New York City
“New York to Helsinki now boarding. New York to Helsinki now boarding.”
A man in a worn Red sox baseball cap, wearing a faded brown bomber jacket, relax fit blue jeans and maroon, Timberland hiking boots rose to his feet. He shrugged, while subtly scanning the rush of people at JFK hurrying to their flights before picking up his black carry-on bag and proceeded to the boarding terminal.
Old habits die hard, he thought while every so often glancing at the people around him, looking for potential threats. It was hard to forget that he was no longer with the ISA or Intelligence security agency. Although he had moved on to a new phase in his life; now a pro wrestler, the covert life would always be a part of who he was.
Shuddering as his demons laugh at him in his head, He shoulders his bag, hands the lady his boarding pass and waits.
He hates waiting.
“Business or Pleasure, sir?” Turning his head back to the young lady with a smile on her face, he takes back his boarding pass and produces a smile of his own.
“Both.”
And for the first time in his life, Atlas Adams meant it. He had traveled the world, killing people on the government’s dime because he had thought it was the patriotic thing to do and he was skilled at it. He returned home a few years ago, set to become a pro wrestler to follow in his dad’s footsteps but not really doing it for himself; he failed to achieve success. Now, with a renewed focus and finding a genuine love for the sport, Atlas Adams got signed by Action Packed Wrestling.
Today he was heading to Helsinki, Finland to have his first match with the company against Mad Mumf; hopefully the start of a long, successful career.
“I hope you enjoy your flight and Helsinki, sir.” Said the young lady, Atlas grins and nods; He hoped so too. Turning, Atlas looked behind him as if hoping to see something or someone. Sighing slightly, he turns back and walks up the ramp, towards his future.
To go to the future, we must first look to the past to see the roads we have traveled.
****
Ten years ago
Cambridge, Massachusetts
“Why are you doing this, son?” Asked Zeus Adams; with a concerned look on his face. He didn’t want this life for his boy. His last child left.
Atlas looked his dad in the eye and said bluntly, “it’s the right thing to do, dad. Ever since nine eleven, I’ve wanted to fight for my country. I believe that I can do some good in the world fighting terrorism” He used to back down from his father but Atlas wanted this, needed this and he couldn’t back down from something he believed in.
Zeus sighed, slumping in his chair, looking for the right response. He looks up at his son and offers a weak smile. “Son, I’m very proud of you. I thought you weren’t ready for something like this. Ares wasn’t. He just was a bull with no consideration of what it really took, mentally. Now, he’s….”
Atlas watches his father struggle with the words and he kneels down, grabbing for his hand.
“Dad, look at me please” Zeus looked up into his son’s eyes and Atlas continued. “What happened to Ares won’t happen to me. It wasn’t your fault. I love my brother, but he wasn’t prepared for that life. You and me? We have toughness about us. Yours from years of wrestling, mine from learning from you.”
Zeus patted his son’s hand assuredly. “Thanks for the kind words son, but wrestling was also why I could never teach Ares about being a strong man. He had to learn on his own because I was always gone, traveling, wrestling in armories and bingo halls for twenty dollars a night. When I made it big in the business, I had even less time for your mother and brother. If only I...”
Atlas shook his father in the chair, his anger starting to get the better of him. “DAD! You did what you had to do to support this family! Mom wasn’t able to and Ares was too young to understand. I don’t resent you for it. I admire the hell out of you for doing what you love and supporting this family. Don’t think that this is me getting back at you. It’s not.”
Clapping Atlas on the shoulder, Zeus rose to his feet, smiling. “You’re great at these pep talks son. A lot of passion. I still think you would make a great wrestler.”
Atlas rolled his eyes, smirking “I’m no King Zeus, dad.”
“No one will be the TRUE KING but me!” Retorted Zeus; cheerfully laughing at his catchphrase from back in the day. He stopped for a moment and coughed loudly into his hand, wiping the spittle from his mouth, he grinned weakly at Atlas “So when do you leave, son?”
“I’m leaving for a German American base next week. I should be able to get in touch in six months or so. It’s pretty grueling training.” Atlas paused, watching his father turn pale for a moment. He placed a hand on his father’s arm. [color=green“Are you okay, Dad?”[/color]
The man who looked up at Atlas looked nothing like the strong willed father he knew all his 18 years. This one, looked frail, his skin stretched over and ghost white. He looked about 75 when he was only 55 in reality. His eyes however, did a good job of hiding the sickness. Still a vibrant blue that could strike fear in a man and make a woman want to strip all her clothes off.
“I’m fine, son. Years of smoking cigs and chasing women catching up to your old man, that’s all. Remember though, I can still kick your ass!”
Atlas laughed and hugged his father tightly, whispering in his ear.
“Take care of yourself. I love you, Dad. See you soon.”
Brushing back a tear, Zeus clutched onto his son. “Give em’ hell, my boy; if you ever decide to get out, I got a wrestling ring with your name on it.”
A few minutes later, Zeus Adams sat in his old, brown chair alone pondering his life and impending death. He wasn’t sure how long he had left, but he knew that was the last time he would see his son.
***
Present day
30,000 feet in the air
Atlas Adams liked to look out plane windows. Being 30,000 feet in the air, you couldn’t see much beyond blue skies and clouds, but he felt on top of the world. Or maybe that was just his feeling naturally after finally getting signed by APW. It was going to change his life. He just knew it, but being in the wrestling business for a while, he also knew that it took hard work and dedication to be the best.
Atlas was focused on being just that so that was why he brought his laptop with him on the flight. It also didn’t hurt that his trainer, Brian Smalls told him it would be wise to study his opponents more.
As he waited for the laptop to power up, he looked to his left and right. Most of the other passengers were sleeping or reading; paying Atlas no attention. That was good; Atlas didn’t want any unwanted attention to what he was doing. If a wrestling fan was on board, that could cause problems. Atlas plugged in his headphones, put them comfortably on his head and opened the file of Mad Mumf’s last match from Sweden.
***
Four years ago
Cambridge cemetery
Cambridge, Massachusetts
A yellow cab pulled up to the cemetery lot; its tires screeching through puddles before coming to a stop. The twenty-four year old man stepped out cautiously, like he was unsure what he was doing there. He pulled out a pad and rechecked the directions. Satisfied, he shoved them into his pocket and approached the grave site.
Crouching down, using his hand to brush away the flat gravestone to reveal his father’s name, Atlas whispered softly, faltering on his words.
“I’m so…sorry, Dad. I should have been here. I wanted to be, but I didn’t know how to say goodbye. You get so busy with what I did and you forget to feel. I didn’t want to confront my feelings and for that I’m sorry. I was a coward. You never raised a coward, but I’ve become…”
The rustling of fall leaves made Atlas jerk his head back and go for his gun at his side. The gun was halfway out, when the little man before him held his hands up and spoke in a loud, squeaky voice.
“Your father was an asshole.” The man said flatly, obviously not scared to insult a dead man in front of his son.
Putting the gun back in its self-made holster; Atlas rose to his feet, towering over the little man and steeled his voice. “You better watch what you say, little man. You wouldn’t want to have an early funeral, would you?”
The little man laughed, cold and with a hint of mocking tone. “The only one that is gonna be dead here, is you kid if you take me on.” Before Atlas could respond, the man pushed past him and looked down at the gravestone. “Hey Z, I see you didn’t tell your son here who I am.”
“And who exactly are you, little man? How do you know my father?” Atlas asked, with some malice in his voice.
“First of all, ‘little man’ is so weak. I prefer troll or even midget. Second of all, my name is Brian Smalls and I knew your father from training him to be a pro wrestler.” Atlas was processing the information when Brian added. “I will now be training you.”
Atlas took a step back, looking incredulously at the old midget. “YOU trained my father? That just can’t be... You’re a little person, my dad was a giant compared to…”
Brian cut Atlas off with the shake of a finger. “Obviously you didn’t get his genes or brains, the little Z had of those.”
“You insult my dad one more time and I cut off that finger.” Atlas whispered venomously, towering over Brian.
Brian sneered up at Atlas, and then started walking away from the gravestone. “Kid, I don’t have time for the bullshit. I have a seven o’clock tee time tomorrow morning and seeing as for over five years I waited for your ass to show up here, the least you can do is show me some respect.”
Momentarily stunned, Atlas thought about what to say, trying to get his anger in check. By the time he calmed down, Brian was already getting into his car. Atlas ran full speed up to the car. He reached the door by the time the engine came to life. The window came down and Brian peered out at Atlas, cigar in his stubby, little fingers.
“Get in.” He said simply. No contempt in his voice.
Thinking about it for moment, Atlas shrugged and opened the door. Minutes later, the two were traveling to Ant’s gym in Cambridge. Atlas would train there for the next year and sleep in the above apartment at night.
***
Present day
Over the Atlantic
“Find an opponent’s weakness and exploit it until victory is yours!”
Brian’s last words to Atlas before he left for his flight echoed in his head after watching Mad Mumf’s match. Closing the laptop, he whispered to himself “This will be harder than I thought.”
The laptop went back in the bag and Atlas sighed, realizing he needed some sleep. He had been training hard for weeks; at times it was harder than his special forces training at least physically, not to mention having to go through a tough divorce just before getting signed by APW. Good sleep was few and far to come by. He started to push the bag overhead, when a photo slipped out and fell to the floor. He kneeled down and picked up the photo. It was a picture of Athena; his daughter on her swing in the backyard, smiling ear to ear.
Atlas felt the choke around his lungs and the salt sting his eyes as tears started to billow. He missed his baby girl. He hadn’t seen her in two months; a week after the divorce was finalized. Losing visitation killed him, but that was the price he paid for not being home and when he was, being abusive verbally to Eva; Athena’s mother. Eva thought it was best if Atlas just stayed away for all of their sakes and Atlas agreed on one condition.
He had to see Athena one more time.
Holding the picture to his chest, Atlas closed his eyes and thought of the last time he saw his daughter.
***
Two months ago
Boston, Massachusetts.
She was sitting on the swing set he had made for her. Brown pigtails swirling in the air as she twirled around on the swing, her five year old legs flying in all different directions and when she spun his way, he smiled at her happiness, oblivious to everything around her.
Spotting her daddy, Athena launched off the swing and tackle hugged Atlas, screaming into his chest. “Daddy you’re home! Daddy you’re home!”
Savoring the moment for a few minutes, Atlas wiped the tears from his face, trying to be strong for her, he held Athena out at arm’s length.
“You’ve gotten so big, my princess.” He appraised, grinning at his girl.
Giggling, Athena put on a serious face for a moment and asked Atlas solemnly. “Are you staying for dinner, daddy?”
Right at the moment, Atlas was punched in the gut. He wanted so badly to say yes, but knew he legally couldn’t. He was already stretching the time he had with her.
Still, he smiled. “I wish I could, princess, but daddy has to work. I’m training for a big wrestling tour around the world. If I want to be world champion, I have to train every day.”
Athena hung her head, mumbling slowly. “Daddy, I know you’ve never been world champion but um, you’re my champion. Is that enough?
Atlas wanted to scream. His daughter knew how to kill a man better than he ever could. Holding a brave face, he pushed her chin up and whispered.
“Of course it is and you’re my princess, always. I will bring the title back to you, I promise.”
She smiled wide, her blue eyes bulging and hugged him fiercely. “I love you, daddy. Please don’t go.”
Atlas struggled under his daughter’s words; he choked and mumbled against her neck. “I love you too, princess. Now, go show me how high you can get on the swing there” Atlas pointed, Athena nodded and pulled away, running to the swings.
Athena was smiling at her daddy as she pushed off and raised high into the air. Coming down, she saw him watching, with maybe tears in his eyes. She wasn’t sure, it was far enough away and she’d never seen him cry. Going up a third time, she went really high, as she came down; Athena noticed that her Daddy was gone.
****
JFK airport
New York City
“New York to Helsinki now boarding. New York to Helsinki now boarding.”
A man in a worn Red sox baseball cap, wearing a faded brown bomber jacket, relax fit blue jeans and maroon, Timberland hiking boots rose to his feet. He shrugged, while subtly scanning the rush of people at JFK hurrying to their flights before picking up his black carry-on bag and proceeded to the boarding terminal.
Old habits die hard, he thought while every so often glancing at the people around him, looking for potential threats. It was hard to forget that he was no longer with the ISA or Intelligence security agency. Although he had moved on to a new phase in his life; now a pro wrestler, the covert life would always be a part of who he was.
Shuddering as his demons laugh at him in his head, He shoulders his bag, hands the lady his boarding pass and waits.
He hates waiting.
“Business or Pleasure, sir?” Turning his head back to the young lady with a smile on her face, he takes back his boarding pass and produces a smile of his own.
“Both.”
And for the first time in his life, Atlas Adams meant it. He had traveled the world, killing people on the government’s dime because he had thought it was the patriotic thing to do and he was skilled at it. He returned home a few years ago, set to become a pro wrestler to follow in his dad’s footsteps but not really doing it for himself; he failed to achieve success. Now, with a renewed focus and finding a genuine love for the sport, Atlas Adams got signed by Action Packed Wrestling.
Today he was heading to Helsinki, Finland to have his first match with the company against Mad Mumf; hopefully the start of a long, successful career.
“I hope you enjoy your flight and Helsinki, sir.” Said the young lady, Atlas grins and nods; He hoped so too. Turning, Atlas looked behind him as if hoping to see something or someone. Sighing slightly, he turns back and walks up the ramp, towards his future.
To go to the future, we must first look to the past to see the roads we have traveled.
****
Ten years ago
Cambridge, Massachusetts
“Why are you doing this, son?” Asked Zeus Adams; with a concerned look on his face. He didn’t want this life for his boy. His last child left.
Atlas looked his dad in the eye and said bluntly, “it’s the right thing to do, dad. Ever since nine eleven, I’ve wanted to fight for my country. I believe that I can do some good in the world fighting terrorism” He used to back down from his father but Atlas wanted this, needed this and he couldn’t back down from something he believed in.
Zeus sighed, slumping in his chair, looking for the right response. He looks up at his son and offers a weak smile. “Son, I’m very proud of you. I thought you weren’t ready for something like this. Ares wasn’t. He just was a bull with no consideration of what it really took, mentally. Now, he’s….”
Atlas watches his father struggle with the words and he kneels down, grabbing for his hand.
“Dad, look at me please” Zeus looked up into his son’s eyes and Atlas continued. “What happened to Ares won’t happen to me. It wasn’t your fault. I love my brother, but he wasn’t prepared for that life. You and me? We have toughness about us. Yours from years of wrestling, mine from learning from you.”
Zeus patted his son’s hand assuredly. “Thanks for the kind words son, but wrestling was also why I could never teach Ares about being a strong man. He had to learn on his own because I was always gone, traveling, wrestling in armories and bingo halls for twenty dollars a night. When I made it big in the business, I had even less time for your mother and brother. If only I...”
Atlas shook his father in the chair, his anger starting to get the better of him. “DAD! You did what you had to do to support this family! Mom wasn’t able to and Ares was too young to understand. I don’t resent you for it. I admire the hell out of you for doing what you love and supporting this family. Don’t think that this is me getting back at you. It’s not.”
Clapping Atlas on the shoulder, Zeus rose to his feet, smiling. “You’re great at these pep talks son. A lot of passion. I still think you would make a great wrestler.”
Atlas rolled his eyes, smirking “I’m no King Zeus, dad.”
“No one will be the TRUE KING but me!” Retorted Zeus; cheerfully laughing at his catchphrase from back in the day. He stopped for a moment and coughed loudly into his hand, wiping the spittle from his mouth, he grinned weakly at Atlas “So when do you leave, son?”
“I’m leaving for a German American base next week. I should be able to get in touch in six months or so. It’s pretty grueling training.” Atlas paused, watching his father turn pale for a moment. He placed a hand on his father’s arm. [color=green“Are you okay, Dad?”[/color]
The man who looked up at Atlas looked nothing like the strong willed father he knew all his 18 years. This one, looked frail, his skin stretched over and ghost white. He looked about 75 when he was only 55 in reality. His eyes however, did a good job of hiding the sickness. Still a vibrant blue that could strike fear in a man and make a woman want to strip all her clothes off.
“I’m fine, son. Years of smoking cigs and chasing women catching up to your old man, that’s all. Remember though, I can still kick your ass!”
Atlas laughed and hugged his father tightly, whispering in his ear.
“Take care of yourself. I love you, Dad. See you soon.”
Brushing back a tear, Zeus clutched onto his son. “Give em’ hell, my boy; if you ever decide to get out, I got a wrestling ring with your name on it.”
A few minutes later, Zeus Adams sat in his old, brown chair alone pondering his life and impending death. He wasn’t sure how long he had left, but he knew that was the last time he would see his son.
***
Present day
30,000 feet in the air
Atlas Adams liked to look out plane windows. Being 30,000 feet in the air, you couldn’t see much beyond blue skies and clouds, but he felt on top of the world. Or maybe that was just his feeling naturally after finally getting signed by APW. It was going to change his life. He just knew it, but being in the wrestling business for a while, he also knew that it took hard work and dedication to be the best.
Atlas was focused on being just that so that was why he brought his laptop with him on the flight. It also didn’t hurt that his trainer, Brian Smalls told him it would be wise to study his opponents more.
As he waited for the laptop to power up, he looked to his left and right. Most of the other passengers were sleeping or reading; paying Atlas no attention. That was good; Atlas didn’t want any unwanted attention to what he was doing. If a wrestling fan was on board, that could cause problems. Atlas plugged in his headphones, put them comfortably on his head and opened the file of Mad Mumf’s last match from Sweden.
***
Four years ago
Cambridge cemetery
Cambridge, Massachusetts
A yellow cab pulled up to the cemetery lot; its tires screeching through puddles before coming to a stop. The twenty-four year old man stepped out cautiously, like he was unsure what he was doing there. He pulled out a pad and rechecked the directions. Satisfied, he shoved them into his pocket and approached the grave site.
Crouching down, using his hand to brush away the flat gravestone to reveal his father’s name, Atlas whispered softly, faltering on his words.
“I’m so…sorry, Dad. I should have been here. I wanted to be, but I didn’t know how to say goodbye. You get so busy with what I did and you forget to feel. I didn’t want to confront my feelings and for that I’m sorry. I was a coward. You never raised a coward, but I’ve become…”
The rustling of fall leaves made Atlas jerk his head back and go for his gun at his side. The gun was halfway out, when the little man before him held his hands up and spoke in a loud, squeaky voice.
“Your father was an asshole.” The man said flatly, obviously not scared to insult a dead man in front of his son.
Putting the gun back in its self-made holster; Atlas rose to his feet, towering over the little man and steeled his voice. “You better watch what you say, little man. You wouldn’t want to have an early funeral, would you?”
The little man laughed, cold and with a hint of mocking tone. “The only one that is gonna be dead here, is you kid if you take me on.” Before Atlas could respond, the man pushed past him and looked down at the gravestone. “Hey Z, I see you didn’t tell your son here who I am.”
“And who exactly are you, little man? How do you know my father?” Atlas asked, with some malice in his voice.
“First of all, ‘little man’ is so weak. I prefer troll or even midget. Second of all, my name is Brian Smalls and I knew your father from training him to be a pro wrestler.” Atlas was processing the information when Brian added. “I will now be training you.”
Atlas took a step back, looking incredulously at the old midget. “YOU trained my father? That just can’t be... You’re a little person, my dad was a giant compared to…”
Brian cut Atlas off with the shake of a finger. “Obviously you didn’t get his genes or brains, the little Z had of those.”
“You insult my dad one more time and I cut off that finger.” Atlas whispered venomously, towering over Brian.
Brian sneered up at Atlas, and then started walking away from the gravestone. “Kid, I don’t have time for the bullshit. I have a seven o’clock tee time tomorrow morning and seeing as for over five years I waited for your ass to show up here, the least you can do is show me some respect.”
Momentarily stunned, Atlas thought about what to say, trying to get his anger in check. By the time he calmed down, Brian was already getting into his car. Atlas ran full speed up to the car. He reached the door by the time the engine came to life. The window came down and Brian peered out at Atlas, cigar in his stubby, little fingers.
“Get in.” He said simply. No contempt in his voice.
Thinking about it for moment, Atlas shrugged and opened the door. Minutes later, the two were traveling to Ant’s gym in Cambridge. Atlas would train there for the next year and sleep in the above apartment at night.
***
Present day
Over the Atlantic
“Find an opponent’s weakness and exploit it until victory is yours!”
Brian’s last words to Atlas before he left for his flight echoed in his head after watching Mad Mumf’s match. Closing the laptop, he whispered to himself “This will be harder than I thought.”
The laptop went back in the bag and Atlas sighed, realizing he needed some sleep. He had been training hard for weeks; at times it was harder than his special forces training at least physically, not to mention having to go through a tough divorce just before getting signed by APW. Good sleep was few and far to come by. He started to push the bag overhead, when a photo slipped out and fell to the floor. He kneeled down and picked up the photo. It was a picture of Athena; his daughter on her swing in the backyard, smiling ear to ear.
Atlas felt the choke around his lungs and the salt sting his eyes as tears started to billow. He missed his baby girl. He hadn’t seen her in two months; a week after the divorce was finalized. Losing visitation killed him, but that was the price he paid for not being home and when he was, being abusive verbally to Eva; Athena’s mother. Eva thought it was best if Atlas just stayed away for all of their sakes and Atlas agreed on one condition.
He had to see Athena one more time.
Holding the picture to his chest, Atlas closed his eyes and thought of the last time he saw his daughter.
***
Two months ago
Boston, Massachusetts.
She was sitting on the swing set he had made for her. Brown pigtails swirling in the air as she twirled around on the swing, her five year old legs flying in all different directions and when she spun his way, he smiled at her happiness, oblivious to everything around her.
Spotting her daddy, Athena launched off the swing and tackle hugged Atlas, screaming into his chest. “Daddy you’re home! Daddy you’re home!”
Savoring the moment for a few minutes, Atlas wiped the tears from his face, trying to be strong for her, he held Athena out at arm’s length.
“You’ve gotten so big, my princess.” He appraised, grinning at his girl.
Giggling, Athena put on a serious face for a moment and asked Atlas solemnly. “Are you staying for dinner, daddy?”
Right at the moment, Atlas was punched in the gut. He wanted so badly to say yes, but knew he legally couldn’t. He was already stretching the time he had with her.
Still, he smiled. “I wish I could, princess, but daddy has to work. I’m training for a big wrestling tour around the world. If I want to be world champion, I have to train every day.”
Athena hung her head, mumbling slowly. “Daddy, I know you’ve never been world champion but um, you’re my champion. Is that enough?
Atlas wanted to scream. His daughter knew how to kill a man better than he ever could. Holding a brave face, he pushed her chin up and whispered.
“Of course it is and you’re my princess, always. I will bring the title back to you, I promise.”
She smiled wide, her blue eyes bulging and hugged him fiercely. “I love you, daddy. Please don’t go.”
Atlas struggled under his daughter’s words; he choked and mumbled against her neck. “I love you too, princess. Now, go show me how high you can get on the swing there” Atlas pointed, Athena nodded and pulled away, running to the swings.
Athena was smiling at her daddy as she pushed off and raised high into the air. Coming down, she saw him watching, with maybe tears in his eyes. She wasn’t sure, it was far enough away and she’d never seen him cry. Going up a third time, she went really high, as she came down; Athena noticed that her Daddy was gone.
****
I respect you, Mad Mumf. You’re probably not used to hearing that, but it’s true. I have a code I live by. Something you’re probably familiar with. When scoping out an opponent whether it is in life, or in the ring, you never, ever underestimate their abilities. If you do, that’s how you get beat. In a past life, that’s how you die. I’m still here.
I’ve seen your work and it honestly impresses me. You may not have won last week in Sweden, but you’re all heart and guts. You just keep coming back, fighting tooth and nail. Honestly, it feels like I’m watching a reflection of myself. You’re smart, movements are tactical, preparing for battle, yet you’re not afraid to give it your all. You’re not afraid to die. I’ll clue ya in on a little secret though. Neither am I!
I guess you could say that’s my weakness. I don’t care what you may do to me. I’ll come back twice as hard like a wounded, starving dog, willing to kill for food. All these other guys who take short cuts or align themselves with groups of other likeminded people are cowards. They are afraid to die. I won’t sacrifice my code just to beat one man. I have bigger goals and I will earn them through hard work, not by politics or shortcuts.
I’m telling you all of this Mad Mumf, so that you are prepared to take the beating of your life. Last week, what Leon did to you? Nothing compared to what I will do if that’s what it takes to beat you. I feel like you’re my personal measuring stick; you may not be a champion, but you’re the guy I have to go through to prove I belong here. If I fail, I will not quit until I put you down.
It’s nothing personal, really. I don’t hate you, Mad mumf. I feel nothing for you except admiration for your dedication to this sport. That doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, it just means I’ll shake your hand after our match. Win or lose.
However, you better hope I win, because if I don’t, I will make you wish that you never crossed my path. I will make you wish that I never came to APW. I will make you wish that your name was never on my hit list.
Adams out!
I’ve seen your work and it honestly impresses me. You may not have won last week in Sweden, but you’re all heart and guts. You just keep coming back, fighting tooth and nail. Honestly, it feels like I’m watching a reflection of myself. You’re smart, movements are tactical, preparing for battle, yet you’re not afraid to give it your all. You’re not afraid to die. I’ll clue ya in on a little secret though. Neither am I!
I guess you could say that’s my weakness. I don’t care what you may do to me. I’ll come back twice as hard like a wounded, starving dog, willing to kill for food. All these other guys who take short cuts or align themselves with groups of other likeminded people are cowards. They are afraid to die. I won’t sacrifice my code just to beat one man. I have bigger goals and I will earn them through hard work, not by politics or shortcuts.
I’m telling you all of this Mad Mumf, so that you are prepared to take the beating of your life. Last week, what Leon did to you? Nothing compared to what I will do if that’s what it takes to beat you. I feel like you’re my personal measuring stick; you may not be a champion, but you’re the guy I have to go through to prove I belong here. If I fail, I will not quit until I put you down.
It’s nothing personal, really. I don’t hate you, Mad mumf. I feel nothing for you except admiration for your dedication to this sport. That doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, it just means I’ll shake your hand after our match. Win or lose.
However, you better hope I win, because if I don’t, I will make you wish that you never crossed my path. I will make you wish that I never came to APW. I will make you wish that your name was never on my hit list.
Adams out!
