05-15-2025, 12:00 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-15-2025, 12:06 AM by Sal Darius.)
Chapter 8 - It was her… once again.
As the night out came to an end, Sal wiped the tears from his cheeks — tears shed in the memory of her. He stood still for a moment, eyes locked on the reflection in the glass mirror door. His thoughts wandered deep, consumed by the realization that he had neglected the one person who truly deserved his time and attention. A passing waiter noticed him, pausing to check in.
Waiter: Sir! Sirr!
Sal didn’t respond at first, too far gone in his own head. But the second call pulled him out of his trance. He looked up quickly, wiped his face again, and sniffled.
Sal: Yes?
Waiter: Would you like to order something?
Sal: No… actually, I need to go.
Waiter: Sure, sir. No problem.
The waiter turned to walk away toward another table, but before he could get far, Sal called out to him again.
Sal: Heyy! Come here.
He reached deep into his pocket, pulled out some cash, and handed it over.
Sal: Keep it.
The waiter smiled with thanks and moved along. Sal stepped out of the café, slid into his car, started it, and pressed the gas. As he drove, the clouds above began to rumble, heavy and moody. Within seconds, the skies opened up and rain poured down. In the middle of that storm, The Freaky Darius sped through the streets on his way home.
Once he arrived, he reached into his dashboard and pulled out an old photo — him and her, together. He stared at it, lost in the past, then leaned in and gently kissed her face.
Sal: Love you. I believe we’ll meet soon.
He got out, locked the car, and made his way into the house. That’s when it hit him — he had a match coming up, and not just any match. A tough one, against an SCW standout.
Sal: SHIT! I just got a couple hours to fucking sleep.
He stripped off the wet clothes, tossed them aside, and climbed into bed wearing only his boxers. His body hit the mattress hard, his mind already drifting back to her.
In his dream, he was lying on an old sofa — the same one where he and the crew used to go wild. His body was buzzing, fueled by old memories and hazy nights. And then, she appeared. Just like that.
Her: Babe! Babe! Wake up. (softly running her hand across his face)
Sal stirred, opening his eyes. The clouds outside roared louder, echoing his unrest. The Freaky Darius woke with a weight on his chest, torn between pain and purpose. For a moment, he thought about skipping the match against Gavin Taylor. His hand reached for his phone. He opened a message to Mr. D.
‘Hey, I’m sorry. Won’t be able to make it today…’
But after staring at the words, he erased them. Put the phone down. Got up.
And started getting ready for war.
Chapter 9 - Gavin Taylor beats Sal Darius
The flashbacks fade, and somehow — against all odds — Sal makes it to the arena. The lights are blinding. The crowd is wild.
Phillips: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall…”
Sharper: “Let me tell you, Knots — Sal doesn’t look ready. Not for this. Not tonight.”
Knots: “These addicts, Sharper! They say they’re clean, they swear they’re back on track… but they never are. He had to take something. Look at him. Still chasing blondes and party lights. That life’s in his veins.”
The bell rings. The match goes off like a bomb.
Fast-paced. Brutal. Explosive.
Gavin and Sal tear into each other like they’ve got everything to prove — and nothing to lose.
Gavin yanks Sal off the mat, goes for a suplex — but Sal slips out, lands behind him, and drops him with a reverse DDT. He uses the ropes to get up, slow and shaky. Gavin’s already charging — but boom — Sal throws up a boot, smashes him in the face. A quick suplex follows. Sal steps back, breathes, watches Gavin crawl to his feet.
And then — bang — Knee Jerk.
Knots: “Well, Sal’s giving it all he’s got, but Gavin’s one tough SOB. That Knee Jerk landed!”
Sharper: “100% agreed. But is that it?”
Sal reloads. He backs up. He’s ready to hit a second Knee Jerk, loaded with emotion and desperation.
But just before he strikes… she appears again. Not really. Just in his head. Her laugh. Her voice. The way she touched his face. The Freaky Darius freezes. Mind shut. Soul hijacked by memory. In that exact second, Gavin explodes forward — roundhouse kick straight to the skull. Sal drops. Gavin dives on top. 1… 2… 3.
Phillips: “Here is your winner… GAVIN TAYLOR!”
The bell rings. Gavin rolls off, holding his jaw, breathing hard. Victorious.
Sharper: “And Gavin Taylor makes Sal Darius pay for his overconfidence! What a win here tonight in London, England!”
Knots: “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”
Sharper: “If he digs deep like this at Taking Hold of the Flame — he might just be the favourite!
Final Chapter - Sal Darius vs The Monster Machine
With time passing and the sting of defeat still fresh, Sal begins to truly feel the weight of it all. The match loss, the flashbacks, the lingering ache of someone he hasn’t moved on from — it’s all piling up. And now, he finally admits it to himself. He’s not over her. Not even close. Wrestling, the one thing he’s always had control over, is slipping too. These flashbacks… these ghosts… they’re not just emotional. They’re dangerous. They could end his whole career. Frustrated, Sal unlocks his phone. His thumb hovers over an app he’s barely used — Bumble. He stares at it. Tap. Uninstall. Gone.
Sal: Fuck these hoes!
Without a second thought, he throws on his sneakers and heads outside. The rain’s stopped. The air’s sharp. He takes off running — not from the past, but straight through it.
While jogging, he pulls out his phone and dials Mr. D.
Sal: Heyy!
Mr. D: Tough loss, buddy!
Sal: Yeah… I just got a bit distracted.
Mr. D: No worries. You still put on one heck of a show out there. That crowd was electric! But heads up — your next match is against The Monster Machine. Be ready.
Sal: Woah! You guys really love throwing monsters at me, huh? Well tell 'em this — I’m not running. I’m hunting. And they’re all getting slaughtered.
Mr. D: That’s because you’re a beast yourself! Hahahaha!
Sal: 100%. I’ll see you in a couple days at the arena.
Mr. D: Sure! See you then.
Sal ends the call, still jogging, but now with purpose. No distractions. No excuses. Just him… and the fight ahead.
The show opens where the last week's fight highlights were being shown.
Sharper: We had some crazy fights last week! But ladies and gentlemen we’ve got a better card for you this week!
Knots: Agreed but let's quickly listen from Sal Darius. Who sort of looked a little dazy in his last match. But he put on a great show.
Sharper: Yeah, lets hear from him.
Sal was standing tall, with some cool florals on with his blublockers…
Sal: So this week it’s me vs the so-called Monster Machine. I don't care about the last week, to be honest. The man built like a wrecking ball with a horror movie soundtrack. He walks like a shadow, doesn’t speak, stares through people like he’s reading their nightmares. And that’s cool, man — real dramatic. But here’s the truth… I’m not scared. I don’t care how many lights flicker when you enter, how many people freeze when your name’s announced. That fear trick? That ain’t gonna work on me.
You might be a monster to them, but to me? You’re just another body in the ring. Which I will bury tonight. You're just another guy trying to play evil, trying to psych out the locker room with your little dark side act. But I’ve seen real darkness. I’ve lived through it. And I’ve survived. So when I step in that ring with you, I’m not stepping into your world — you’re stepping into mine.
You’re big. You’re strong. But I’m fast. I’m sharp. And I hit like regret after a bad decision. You think you're the nightmare? Nah. I’m the wake-up call. So get ready, Monster Machine… because this week, the only thing getting crushed is your reputation.
As the night out came to an end, Sal wiped the tears from his cheeks — tears shed in the memory of her. He stood still for a moment, eyes locked on the reflection in the glass mirror door. His thoughts wandered deep, consumed by the realization that he had neglected the one person who truly deserved his time and attention. A passing waiter noticed him, pausing to check in.
Waiter: Sir! Sirr!
Sal didn’t respond at first, too far gone in his own head. But the second call pulled him out of his trance. He looked up quickly, wiped his face again, and sniffled.
Sal: Yes?
Waiter: Would you like to order something?
Sal: No… actually, I need to go.
Waiter: Sure, sir. No problem.
The waiter turned to walk away toward another table, but before he could get far, Sal called out to him again.
Sal: Heyy! Come here.
He reached deep into his pocket, pulled out some cash, and handed it over.
Sal: Keep it.
The waiter smiled with thanks and moved along. Sal stepped out of the café, slid into his car, started it, and pressed the gas. As he drove, the clouds above began to rumble, heavy and moody. Within seconds, the skies opened up and rain poured down. In the middle of that storm, The Freaky Darius sped through the streets on his way home.
Once he arrived, he reached into his dashboard and pulled out an old photo — him and her, together. He stared at it, lost in the past, then leaned in and gently kissed her face.
Sal: Love you. I believe we’ll meet soon.
He got out, locked the car, and made his way into the house. That’s when it hit him — he had a match coming up, and not just any match. A tough one, against an SCW standout.
Sal: SHIT! I just got a couple hours to fucking sleep.
He stripped off the wet clothes, tossed them aside, and climbed into bed wearing only his boxers. His body hit the mattress hard, his mind already drifting back to her.
In his dream, he was lying on an old sofa — the same one where he and the crew used to go wild. His body was buzzing, fueled by old memories and hazy nights. And then, she appeared. Just like that.
Her: Babe! Babe! Wake up. (softly running her hand across his face)
Sal stirred, opening his eyes. The clouds outside roared louder, echoing his unrest. The Freaky Darius woke with a weight on his chest, torn between pain and purpose. For a moment, he thought about skipping the match against Gavin Taylor. His hand reached for his phone. He opened a message to Mr. D.
‘Hey, I’m sorry. Won’t be able to make it today…’
But after staring at the words, he erased them. Put the phone down. Got up.
And started getting ready for war.
Chapter 9 - Gavin Taylor beats Sal Darius
The flashbacks fade, and somehow — against all odds — Sal makes it to the arena. The lights are blinding. The crowd is wild.
Phillips: “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall…”
Sharper: “Let me tell you, Knots — Sal doesn’t look ready. Not for this. Not tonight.”
Knots: “These addicts, Sharper! They say they’re clean, they swear they’re back on track… but they never are. He had to take something. Look at him. Still chasing blondes and party lights. That life’s in his veins.”
The bell rings. The match goes off like a bomb.
Fast-paced. Brutal. Explosive.
Gavin and Sal tear into each other like they’ve got everything to prove — and nothing to lose.
Gavin yanks Sal off the mat, goes for a suplex — but Sal slips out, lands behind him, and drops him with a reverse DDT. He uses the ropes to get up, slow and shaky. Gavin’s already charging — but boom — Sal throws up a boot, smashes him in the face. A quick suplex follows. Sal steps back, breathes, watches Gavin crawl to his feet.
And then — bang — Knee Jerk.
Knots: “Well, Sal’s giving it all he’s got, but Gavin’s one tough SOB. That Knee Jerk landed!”
Sharper: “100% agreed. But is that it?”
Sal reloads. He backs up. He’s ready to hit a second Knee Jerk, loaded with emotion and desperation.
But just before he strikes… she appears again. Not really. Just in his head. Her laugh. Her voice. The way she touched his face. The Freaky Darius freezes. Mind shut. Soul hijacked by memory. In that exact second, Gavin explodes forward — roundhouse kick straight to the skull. Sal drops. Gavin dives on top. 1… 2… 3.
Phillips: “Here is your winner… GAVIN TAYLOR!”
The bell rings. Gavin rolls off, holding his jaw, breathing hard. Victorious.
Sharper: “And Gavin Taylor makes Sal Darius pay for his overconfidence! What a win here tonight in London, England!”
Knots: “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”
Sharper: “If he digs deep like this at Taking Hold of the Flame — he might just be the favourite!
Final Chapter - Sal Darius vs The Monster Machine
With time passing and the sting of defeat still fresh, Sal begins to truly feel the weight of it all. The match loss, the flashbacks, the lingering ache of someone he hasn’t moved on from — it’s all piling up. And now, he finally admits it to himself. He’s not over her. Not even close. Wrestling, the one thing he’s always had control over, is slipping too. These flashbacks… these ghosts… they’re not just emotional. They’re dangerous. They could end his whole career. Frustrated, Sal unlocks his phone. His thumb hovers over an app he’s barely used — Bumble. He stares at it. Tap. Uninstall. Gone.
Sal: Fuck these hoes!
Without a second thought, he throws on his sneakers and heads outside. The rain’s stopped. The air’s sharp. He takes off running — not from the past, but straight through it.
While jogging, he pulls out his phone and dials Mr. D.
Sal: Heyy!
Mr. D: Tough loss, buddy!
Sal: Yeah… I just got a bit distracted.
Mr. D: No worries. You still put on one heck of a show out there. That crowd was electric! But heads up — your next match is against The Monster Machine. Be ready.
Sal: Woah! You guys really love throwing monsters at me, huh? Well tell 'em this — I’m not running. I’m hunting. And they’re all getting slaughtered.
Mr. D: That’s because you’re a beast yourself! Hahahaha!
Sal: 100%. I’ll see you in a couple days at the arena.
Mr. D: Sure! See you then.
Sal ends the call, still jogging, but now with purpose. No distractions. No excuses. Just him… and the fight ahead.
The show opens where the last week's fight highlights were being shown.
Sharper: We had some crazy fights last week! But ladies and gentlemen we’ve got a better card for you this week!
Knots: Agreed but let's quickly listen from Sal Darius. Who sort of looked a little dazy in his last match. But he put on a great show.
Sharper: Yeah, lets hear from him.
Sal was standing tall, with some cool florals on with his blublockers…
Sal: So this week it’s me vs the so-called Monster Machine. I don't care about the last week, to be honest. The man built like a wrecking ball with a horror movie soundtrack. He walks like a shadow, doesn’t speak, stares through people like he’s reading their nightmares. And that’s cool, man — real dramatic. But here’s the truth… I’m not scared. I don’t care how many lights flicker when you enter, how many people freeze when your name’s announced. That fear trick? That ain’t gonna work on me.
You might be a monster to them, but to me? You’re just another body in the ring. Which I will bury tonight. You're just another guy trying to play evil, trying to psych out the locker room with your little dark side act. But I’ve seen real darkness. I’ve lived through it. And I’ve survived. So when I step in that ring with you, I’m not stepping into your world — you’re stepping into mine.
You’re big. You’re strong. But I’m fast. I’m sharp. And I hit like regret after a bad decision. You think you're the nightmare? Nah. I’m the wake-up call. So get ready, Monster Machine… because this week, the only thing getting crushed is your reputation.