Al!
League Member
When Lucifer fell from Heaven and found his way to hell, what they really meant to say was “On the Eighth day.. God created New Jersey.”
We find ourselves a few days since the last Crash TV. The sound of rain can be heard against steel. Wiper blades silently wash away the obscurity and again, from the surroundings we view the inside of Aidan Campbell’s custom Z4 roadster. If there was a home for this man, it was his car and the road. Attempts made to change that generally fail and have failed, miserably.
It was this reason that relationships didn’t work for him. He had money. He had looks. Fame, athleticism and a sense of humor followed suite. Settling down didn’t ever seem to work. Other people always wanted him to settle down. He had to buy a home, have kids, and put other people’s lives ahead of his own. Women always wanted the best for him, until what was best for him didn’t work for them.
To put it bluntly.. other people are idiots. Less than one-tenth of one-percent of the population of this planet had the potential to be what he was. Even fewer people had the guts to make it happen. If anyone thought he was going to lay it all down for a piece of ass.
They were betting good odds.
Campbell sat looking out over the Jersey landscape. Seconds passed as the rain fell and obscured his view only for the wiper blades to clear a line of sight. The Castinetti family home was only a few hundred yards down the road. It had been years since he had last visited, 5 to be exact, and he was sure that he wasn’t welcome.
His eyes moved away from the manor and focused on a small, tattered photograph now embedded in the dashboard. It was a photograph of a better place and time. Vivian was in that picture and it didn’t seem all that long ago. He remembered the circumstances of the photograph as if it were yesterday. It was a weekday at the Coney Island carousel. They had the thing all to themselves. It was a pleasant moment in between all the roadwork. Heh, if Rick had caught them at that time he would have been screwed.
In his hands rested a now crumpled letter that he had only managed to read part way through since he left the arena.. his head was in other places and wrestling was not one of them. Seconds passed and as he took his mind off the carousels and Ryconik, his attention focused on the letter. Anything to keep him from walking those few steps to the Castinettis’ for just a few minutes longer.
AC,
Don't know if you know me, but I've been watching your comeback and I'm glad to see you back in the ring.
Sorry to hear about the injuries, but I think if you want to take the time - I've got an offer for you.
Couldn't help but notice that you've shared feelings of discontent towards some of my old arch-nemesis.
I'm still passing through Raleigh every now and again on personal business and any time you want a lesson on the Carolinas - specifically Greensboro or Myrtle Beach...
Just let me know. I may even be able to instill some injury prevention training into your regimen.
Remember, it's a dog eat dog world,
'The Wolf' Mike Randalls
What the hell did Randalls want with Campbell? What did he really want? There were three options. The fact that he was sincere was a very valid possibility. However, there were also the options of Randalls setting up Campbell for a massive fall or losing a significant opportunity if what he suggested took him out of Wrestlebowl.
A knocking at both driver and passenger windows startled Campbell out of his thought process and as he looked to either side noticed a broad shadow looming about the vehicle. Lowering his drivers’ side, he was addressed with all the polish of a telemarketer with military style. Before him stood a broad man, approximately 6 ft tall with broad shoulders and a crew cut. Dressed in a dark suit and trenchcoat his demeanor was unassailable. No expression could be determined and his eyes were unreadable behind custom sunglasses. The rain wasn’t bothering him, and this unnerved Campbell.
“Good Afternoon Mr. Campbell. I am Mr. Johnson, I along with my associate Mr. Johnson, have been instructed to escort you to the Castinetti residence. Mr. Castinetti has been expecting you.”
Crap, there were two of them.
“Mr. Campbell, if you could slowly roll your car to the gates and approach the home, Mr. Johnson and I will ensure your safe transit to the home. ”
Aidan slumped into his char as he turned the ignition and the Z4 came to life. Rain obscured his view of the house for a moment and was quickly cleared by the wipers to reveal the gates of the Castinetti home opening. He mused for a moment that those blades were a good analogy for his life to this point
Wiping away the past and starting again. Was she worth it?
Yes.
We find ourselves a few days since the last Crash TV. The sound of rain can be heard against steel. Wiper blades silently wash away the obscurity and again, from the surroundings we view the inside of Aidan Campbell’s custom Z4 roadster. If there was a home for this man, it was his car and the road. Attempts made to change that generally fail and have failed, miserably.
It was this reason that relationships didn’t work for him. He had money. He had looks. Fame, athleticism and a sense of humor followed suite. Settling down didn’t ever seem to work. Other people always wanted him to settle down. He had to buy a home, have kids, and put other people’s lives ahead of his own. Women always wanted the best for him, until what was best for him didn’t work for them.
To put it bluntly.. other people are idiots. Less than one-tenth of one-percent of the population of this planet had the potential to be what he was. Even fewer people had the guts to make it happen. If anyone thought he was going to lay it all down for a piece of ass.
They were betting good odds.
Campbell sat looking out over the Jersey landscape. Seconds passed as the rain fell and obscured his view only for the wiper blades to clear a line of sight. The Castinetti family home was only a few hundred yards down the road. It had been years since he had last visited, 5 to be exact, and he was sure that he wasn’t welcome.
His eyes moved away from the manor and focused on a small, tattered photograph now embedded in the dashboard. It was a photograph of a better place and time. Vivian was in that picture and it didn’t seem all that long ago. He remembered the circumstances of the photograph as if it were yesterday. It was a weekday at the Coney Island carousel. They had the thing all to themselves. It was a pleasant moment in between all the roadwork. Heh, if Rick had caught them at that time he would have been screwed.
In his hands rested a now crumpled letter that he had only managed to read part way through since he left the arena.. his head was in other places and wrestling was not one of them. Seconds passed and as he took his mind off the carousels and Ryconik, his attention focused on the letter. Anything to keep him from walking those few steps to the Castinettis’ for just a few minutes longer.
AC,
Don't know if you know me, but I've been watching your comeback and I'm glad to see you back in the ring.
Sorry to hear about the injuries, but I think if you want to take the time - I've got an offer for you.
Couldn't help but notice that you've shared feelings of discontent towards some of my old arch-nemesis.
I'm still passing through Raleigh every now and again on personal business and any time you want a lesson on the Carolinas - specifically Greensboro or Myrtle Beach...
Just let me know. I may even be able to instill some injury prevention training into your regimen.
Remember, it's a dog eat dog world,
'The Wolf' Mike Randalls
What the hell did Randalls want with Campbell? What did he really want? There were three options. The fact that he was sincere was a very valid possibility. However, there were also the options of Randalls setting up Campbell for a massive fall or losing a significant opportunity if what he suggested took him out of Wrestlebowl.
A knocking at both driver and passenger windows startled Campbell out of his thought process and as he looked to either side noticed a broad shadow looming about the vehicle. Lowering his drivers’ side, he was addressed with all the polish of a telemarketer with military style. Before him stood a broad man, approximately 6 ft tall with broad shoulders and a crew cut. Dressed in a dark suit and trenchcoat his demeanor was unassailable. No expression could be determined and his eyes were unreadable behind custom sunglasses. The rain wasn’t bothering him, and this unnerved Campbell.
“Good Afternoon Mr. Campbell. I am Mr. Johnson, I along with my associate Mr. Johnson, have been instructed to escort you to the Castinetti residence. Mr. Castinetti has been expecting you.”
Crap, there were two of them.
“Mr. Campbell, if you could slowly roll your car to the gates and approach the home, Mr. Johnson and I will ensure your safe transit to the home. ”
Aidan slumped into his char as he turned the ignition and the Z4 came to life. Rain obscured his view of the house for a moment and was quickly cleared by the wipers to reveal the gates of the Castinetti home opening. He mused for a moment that those blades were a good analogy for his life to this point
Wiping away the past and starting again. Was she worth it?
Yes.
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