Rule #8 (Chapter Promo)

“Have you ever felt the pressure? As you stand at your tallest, that little bit of weight pushing down on your shoulders? Each time you rise out of bed, you stand, only to feel more weight added on by the hour? Eventually the posture weakens, the pain in your sides and back grow. Each breath you take becomes more challenging, until finally, the breathing stops. Maybe the pain would go away then, I don’t know, ain’t dead yet.”

All quiet on the eastern front, one would assume. The abandoned dirt road gave its daunting delusions of a vehicle coming, but they never do. It was the ultimate place for one to have those soul searching moments. People don’t seem to take advantage of those moments these days. So much running and gunning, hip firing at their dreams, only to fall short. One of the perks that one could say about the Last Breathing Outlaw, though. He is always aiming down his sights. The target is much larger than most, declared as the Tyrant of Europe. He would rather see the towers of London in flames, the steel of Munich melted. He was the ultimate threat, in the eyes of Colt Montoya.

That’s where aiming down the sights, ready to fire that shot, becomes a tremendous mistake. There’s an equal threat even closer to the horizon. They call him a King..

“Another one? Damn it..”

Resting the lower part of his legs over the opened window of the topless 1969 Ford Mustang. He called this black beauty ‘Panther’. In signature style, Colt rested his head back, seeing through his aviators at the beautiful sky. A cigarette in one hand, a bottle of Stella Artois in the other. He knew the trouble that would become of him when the brand split took place. It became the limelight that he sought after since his tryout in February. He made a statement in his victory over Nas, not the statement one would have expected though. He had been beaten down to the point of delirium. In the end, something brought him from the dead, allowing him to score the pinfall. Just mere moments later, however, he was demolished in the middle of the ring by the New European Champion. He threatened Kimberly. Kind of a big no-no. For that, Ozymandias had to eat some humble pie at Chapter 20, when Colt returned the favor.

His opponent strangely enough had a similar path. Following his victory over Wraith at Dreamworld, Maverick found himself at war with the returning giant, Kevin Devastation. Devastation attacked Maverick, yet at Chapter 20, Maverick returned the favor with one of his own. Undeniable giants against the hungry up and comers. They’re on the same path to destruction, most likely coming to conclusion at By The Sword. Yet, Chapter 21 will bring a new stopping point for the two of them. Colt Montoya vs. King Maverick.

“I always wondered what it would be like to face off with you. I remember there was one day that I peered up into the castle, knowing that the Underworld, the scourge of Wrestleworld, were plotting inside. They plotted against everybody who was a threat. They wanted domination over every single soul who opposed them. Walls separated us when those plans were being put into motion.”

Taking a swig of the Stella, he slowly removed his aviators, tucking them along his collar. Something had gotten his attention about that night though. Was it the fact that he got the attention of Claudia Michaels by urinating on the castle walls?

“I’m not going to lie. Taking a piss on those castle walls was shameful. Not the fact that I had evidently rebelled against the dominant group. No, it was more like I regret being so drunk that I didn’t realize the castle wasn’t indeed a urinal. I wrote it in my stationary the next day. Things I regret. It didn’t change the way I handled myself, but it certainly caught some unwanted attention. A memo from your boss, Claudia Michaels. It was something along the lines of this.. Be patient please, I’ve been drinking since eight in the morning.”

Clearing his throat, trying his best to remember exactly what had been said.

“Dear Colt (Awe, she knew my name). It came to my attention that last night, you defiled the wall of my castle. Let it be known that the walls are not your personal restroom. We have given you a free pass, which is rare, in order to allow you to understand that taking the wrong roads will lead to a crash. A crash you will not recover from. A crash that will send your skin into an inferno, then into ash. If you choose to ignore this memo, I will assume that you have agreed to the terms. We would hate for anything bad to happen to you yet.”

Certainly the memo didn’t go that way. It sounded pretty official though. Colt couldn’t help but smile as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“Love, as always, Claudia Michaels.”

He laughed as he flicked away the ashes with his thumb. He always had a respect for Michaels, The Professional, Wraith, and Maverick. They were interesting to him. The Underworld was interesting, at least until people began to enter the group just to fill the numbers. He battled Wraith in the Feast of the Fallen. Other than that, an oddball triple threat, but the Underworld stood clear of Colt Montoya. It was a mystery, WAS being the keyword. He put down his beer and picked up an interesting booklet. “The Underworld Code of Ethics”.

“I couldn’t put it down, Maverick. Not too many people had a chance to read this thing, I’m certain a few members didn’t even read it. There was an interesting set of rules you guys followed. There was one in particular that really.. Really caught my eye.”

Flipping through some pages, he gave an amused grin before looking it over.

“Oh, here we go. Under the Hostilities and Alliances, there was an interesting little number here. Rule #8 she called it. You know what it is. I know what it is, now the world knows. Rule #8: Don’t Mess With Colt Montoya.”

An over exaggerated look formed on his face. That was astounding. One would assume urinating on a wall would be a criminal offense, but to go all out and make a rule, stating not to mess with the guy said a lot.

“Like a true soldier, Maverick, you followed that order, didn’t you? We didn’t cross paths, hell, we never really saw each other. An occasional time we’d walk by one another, but always at a distance. It wasn’t me hiding from you, and it wasn’t you hiding from me. We just gave each other space. Where I come from, we call that respect. Whether it was intentional or subliminal, we knew what we were both capable of. I saw those things you did against the World’s Finest. Flying without the wings, going to war in honor of your queen. Once the queen had fallen though, it wasn’t about living up to expectations any longer, was it?”

It wasn’t the hostilities that most would receive. It was pretty relaxed. Nobody messed with Colt Montoya aside from a select few who wound up paying one hell of a debt for it. A former King certainly couldn’t pay the debt, and look where he went. Maverick wasn’t that kind of King though. He backed it up in the ring every time, that’s where the line had been drawn for Colt when he found out about the contest.

“Here’s the problem Maverick. I’ve been wanting to face someone of your caliber for so long that the idea of losing to you when the opportunity comes, it just doesn’t work for me. It doesn’t settle well, I reckon you’re going to fight me with the same intensity that you fight anyone else. I like that. We all like a good dogfight. We all love the idea of engaging in war for one night only, and at Chapter 21, I feel that war is going to take place. No matter the winner, no matter the loser, we both have other things that are on our plate. We will fight again one day when the stakes are so high, maybe a European Title match? Maybe in space...Mayb..”

Static came from his radio, distracting him. Unnerving as it was, Colt slapped the dashboard a few times. One slap too many, some weird 1970s techno music began playing. He immediately tried to turn it off, to no avail. As he fiddled with the radio, a small man began juking and jiving in his rear view mirror. Colt glanced up, not seeing the weird blonde haired tiny man.

“Man, I don’t know what is in this beer anymore..”

“WHEN I SAY SPACE..YOU SAY PANTS, SPACE..”

Jolted into a new sense of confusion, Colt quickly turned to the man.

“What the fuck..”

That wasn’t the right answer..

“WHEN I SAY SPACE.. YOU SAY PANTS.. SPACE..”

“Pants?”

Waving his arms like a lunatic, the tiny man began walking away, shouting “YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES.”

Finally able to turn the radio off, Colt’s shocked expression finally changed to a sense of normalcy. As normal as it would get, it seemed.

“Was he even wearing pants? I didn’t notice, all I saw was some little guy shouting at me. Maverick, trust me when I say this, I don’t know what you’re going to get from me, and I don’t know what I’m going to get from you. These guys are obviously out for blood. Devastation wanted you dead so badly that he offered me a shit ton of a money. Not my thing, dude. I don’t kill for money, hell I don’t even hurt for money. I just wrestle, drink, smoke, and have a good time. You, you’re cut a different cloth, hell, maybe you don’t respect me the way I do for you. All good though, we’re going to go do our thing, tear the fucking house down, and call it a night. If Ozymandias shows his mug, I’ll deal with him. Devastation shows up, you deal with him. We’re in the land of the giants, my friend, and it’s up to us to show them that a good enough Titan can always defeat a God. What do you say, King?”

It was a tough enough fight against a guy like Maverick anyways, but the fact that on the same night, his girlfriend Kimberly Chase is going to the Carnival with Ozymandias. There’s no telling what could take place there. Those thoughts have trumped anything with this match, with all due respect to the King. Just like Kevin Devastation might be his focus, rather than a good ol war with the Good Ol Boy of Sweetwater himself. The rivalries had gotten so personal that a dream match like this would be hampered down so much. The real question would be, who will walk out WITHOUT being attacked by their gigantic adversary.

That, and WHAT THE FUCK ARE SPACE PANTS? The world may never know.