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CXA Reunion.

The fans begin to leave the event, most blown away by what they'd witnessed, in the absolutely unbelievable Trinity Of Iron match, where Chio Reto emerged victorious over The Reaper.

The main event fresh on everyone's minds, and likely to be there for the decades to come, in an immortal bout that would go down in wrestling history as THE all-time underdog triumph story.

Every match however, was amazing and epic in it's own way. Far and away, a superior night to even WWE's Wrestlemania XXVII. But before the websites, and the internet, and the wrestling publications would go on to scribe the CXA Reunion as the greatest wrestling event of the year, there was the rest of the night to go.

Everyone going out on their high notes, and glowing in the bask of the magic of the show still emanating within them.

For the most part, the winners, and even the losers, are still basking in the glow of the night, as they gather their things and head back to where they came from. Even the members of the CWO, for having the absoutely terrible night they had, still manage to scrape up enough of their own dignity to lick their wounds and laugh about their night.

But there is one man who has no glow. One man who feels no magic.

One man who CXA Reunion, has left nothing for. One man who came to CXA Reunion with nothing to lose, and so in the end, gained less than that.


Hours later after the event, after all the fans have gone, and all of the requisite backstage things for everyone else have been concluded, and the other competitors have collected their checks and left, Mike Rocket remains where he's been for the last 6 and a half hours; Sitting silently on the floor in the corner of an out-of-the-way hallway.

He watches, without a word, without a hint of his usual anger and frustration on his face. Just staring blankly, watching, expressionless as the staff and wrestlers collect their bags and walk down and out the hallway past him, collecting their bags, and leaving the building.

It is almost as if the world is passing him by. No one seems to notice him. No friends to greet him. No sympathetic staff or passerbys to notice Mike Rocket's expressionless stare and seemingly out of character dead eyed calmness.

Indeed, Mike Rocket feels numb. No expression. No feeling. No sadness. No sense of loss. No sense of accomplishment. Just apathy and a numbess, shadowing over his brain and his body. If there was anyone to care, anyone to look at him, anyone to so much as glance in his direction, they would not be able to tell what he was thinking, inside, anyway.

Is he even inhabiting his body right now? Is is mind out on vacation? One could draw this conclusion by his unmoving glassy eyed,, unfocuced stare. One could also chalk this up to being so intensly deep in thought that he shows no outer signs of awareness outside his own thoughts.

Of course, that would be assuming anyone cared about him enough to ask themselves or even realize he was there.

Suddenly, Rocket stands up. Oddly, his face registers no change in tone from the previous few hours. Only the position of his body, now vertical.

What is in Rocket's mind? Is he so angry he can't even show it? Is he shellshocked? Depressed? Is he about to explode?

Rocket wanders over and is suddenly snapped out of his trance, after someone places a small rectangle of paper into his hand. Rocket snaps back to reality around him, looking up at the man belonging to the hand.

"Here ya go" says the man.

"what?" asks Rocket, instinctually, looking up at the person. Rocket examines the item now in his hand.

"Your paycheck for the match you wrestled, sir. There it is."

"Ah..." replies Rocket. None of the frustrated tone, none of the angered irritation he usually exudes. Just a simple glance at his check and the large sum of money offered for even losing his match.

Losing, was not the right word, however. Rocket was broken, humiliated, stripped of his pride, and thoroughly embarrassed and shown up in the end by Steve Awesome, and by Madison, who finally turned on him.

A night that, on any other night would have filled Rocket with an indeterminable rage, which his ego would have quickly countered with by enveloping him ever more into his quest for revenge and cause to hurt and strike back at anyone, even those not involved. The passionate, hateful, angry, fury driven Mike Rocket that held bitter contempt for everyone and everything, even when he was at his lowest, knowing how he deserved better.

But this Rocket just stares at the check in his hands. He lost, was humiliated, defeated, in pain, and cleanly lost his match against Steve, and was kicked aside by his own ringside manager, Miss Vicki Madison to add insult to injury.

Mike Rocket should be angry. He should be furious. He should immediately take every dollar he has, and spend it to track Steve down. Invade the nCw and bloody Steve, humiliate him on his own terf as Steve had here to him, and get even with Madison. His mind tells him all of the things he should do and all the things he knows he would do. Screaming at him that it isn't over. That he will get even. That he will prove to everyone and everything against him, that Mike Rocket IS the CWA and the TXA.. that everyone at the CXA still owes everything to him, and--

Mike Rocket already finds himself having wandered out of the building, by the doors, and staring into the night sky. To the left of him is a small trash can.

Mike Rocket should be angry. He should be furious. He should immediately take every dollar he has, and spend it to track Steve down. Invade the nCw and bloody Steve, humiliate him on his own terf as Steve had here to him, and get even with Madison. His mind tells him all of the things he should do and all the things he knows he would do. Screaming at him that it isn't----

///This has to stop///

Mike Rocket deftly, and with minimal effort, allows the check to slip from his hand and into the trash.

He begins to walk off, when he's quickly approached by the man from before.

"Excuse me, sir! Are you alright? You dropped your check for the match tonight!"

Mike Rocket turns to the man, with a smile. Not an evil smile. Not a spiteful smile. Not a wicked smile. Not a malevolent smile. Not even a deluded smile. Not any kind of smile that Mike Rocket would smile.

He smiles at the man, a smile of warmth, of honesty, and of no pretension. ....a smile of relief.

He replies to the man. "That check is for Mike Rocket. ........I'm not him anymore."

His smile then turns into a sad smile, and from there, a look of pained realization and truth. "I can't be him, anymore. I can be someone else from now on. I can finally start to be someone better. But Rocket is gone. I have to let him go."

And with that, the man that used to be Mike Rocket walks off down the road and off into the night.

----------------




1 hour ago.

A text pops up on the cell phone of Steve Awesome.

Thank you for teaching me a lesson. Tell Madison i'm sorry. She deserved better.

((ooc: hope you dont mind what I did Mike.....))

Our scene opens in a local diner outside the city. Steve Awesome sits at a booth and signs an autograph or two for the inevitable line that formed near his table. Even though his onion rings were getting cold, he still took the moment to sign the stuff for the kids. He was happy to do it.

"You were great against Mike Rocket tonight."

Said the kid currently at the front of the line. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and looks up at Steve Awesome in awe.

"Hey thanks."

The face of the franchise said with a prideful smile on his face. Moments like these were what made everything all worth it at the end of the day. The happy fan.

"Glad you enjoyed the show, kid. Means alot."

Steve finishes up the autograph, pats the kid on the head and sends him on his way. He turns his attention back to his basket of onion rings and picks up one of them. He was about to pop it in his mouth when something across the table catches his attention.

"Hey, Your french fries are getting cold."

Across the table sat Vicki Madison, and instead of even looking at the food in front of her she has an apprehensive gaze directed out the window to the parking lot. Even though she managed to unleash years worth of pent up frustration out in one kick, she couldn't help but feel bad about what she had done.

"eh, I'm not hungry."

Vicki mumbles as she slides the fries across the table. Steve picks up on her distress and somehow knows exactly what she was thinking about.

"Vicki, don't be so hard on yourself. After everything he's ever done to you, a kick in the ribs is the least you could have done. I hope you're not regretting this."

"No."

Vicki said sharply and she shook her head along with it. But then she wasn't so sure....

"I mean....I don't know....*sigh*....I just wonder he'll be okay, you know?"

For some reason, this innocent women still cared about a man like Mike Rocket. Even after years of abuse she still seems to worry about him. Just goes to show you that some people in the world never stop being a good person regardless of the darkness around them. Steve wished he could ease her worrying, but he had no idea how Rocket would fare after tonight. Steve assumed he would just go back to being angry and depressed and live a tortured life, but he decided he wouldn't bring Vicki down any further then she may have already felt. He just nodded his head and gave her an empathetic half smile and reached for another onion ring. It was then that his cell phone started going off.

Who could that be? he though to himself as he dug into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He pulled the device up to eye level and read the text that had just came in. What he read made him happy. It gave him hope.

"I think he's going to be alright."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

15 Minutes Later

A reply to a previous text message shows up on the cell phone of Mike Rocket.

"Thanks for the great match, dude. It could have gone either way. I really hope you figure out all the things you need to figure out Mike. For your sake and for Vicki's. Good luck in everything you do. "

ooc: That was great, Steve.

OOC: Nice stuff from both of you!