Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal

Entry 25

The spotlight always finds me around here. I've been winding down my wrestling schedule now that summer has come in preparation for my vacation, but I found my way into the headlines another way.

Late one evening, a night that it was actually dark, I went for a run. I pass by Glitter's shop as I always do, more out of it being along the road than of any real concern of robbery. Good thing I had though because as I pass by, my eyes get a flash of light from within. I stop to look inside and see a light on in a back room. Glitter always double- and triple-checks that all lights are off before leaving, so something definitely isn't right.

I walk slowly along the rear of the building and the back door was also cracked. This is definitely a burglary in progress. I poke my head inside, finding a silent alarm “panic button” that Glitter keeps by the door, and trip the silent alarm. Police will be on the way now if they weren't already. Walking deeper inside, I find most of Glitter's mannequins tossed about and some upcoming displays she had readied stripped away.

As I was about to enter the next room, I hear whispering and fawning about how this was such an “easy job”. I then hear myself knock down a mannequin that had been shoved in place haphazardly, followed by at least one of the thugs coming to check. Using darkness, I stand with the rest of them and pose like a mannequin.

I see the cyka walk in, flashlight in one hand and some sort of weapon in the other. He walks in front of me, his back to me. This is my best chance. I then step behind, quickly slap a choke with one hand and cover his mouth with the other. He blacks out in seconds. Through the door behind us opened, I can see his partner hadn't noticed.

I silently walk into the room, and with my focus locked on the other thief, his back also to me, I slam the door shut loudly, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Wasting no time, I grab him with both hands and throw him clear across the room, breaking down the door I had just shut. When he tries to fumble for a weapon, I step on his hand, hearing a satisfying crackle of bones breaking. Getting his crowbar with his other hand, I then take hold of his leg and apply a kneebar.

No sooner do I hear a crack of his knee breaking, he lets out a loud scream just as police come in. His leg was broken at the knee, bent in a way other than what nature intended. They tried to say I was the one robbing the place and that they came to stop me. Police were skeptical enough, but reviewed video of the inside that only confirmed my story, including how both of them brandished a weapon against me.

It turns out that the pair were also responsible for a few other robberies in the city, so as far as their injuries, police said they saw nothing. They were taken to the hospital and then to jail, and Glitter and I spent a long night at the store, cleaning up their mess and resetting her mannequin displays.

The news outlets couldn't resist a story of the town's biggest wrestler foiling some infamous cat burglars, so that's been in the news for a while now. The great feeling didn't last long though. Later that week, tragedy struck me in the ring, for the first time ever.

Friday night show, another main event against Switchblade. He's definitely made progress and certainly has what it takes to be a villain with this crowd. He's at the point now where all he had to do is smile to get a rise out of everyone. The crowd gives me a deafening roar as I walk out to Grinder. Glancing around the venue as I walk down the aisle, I see the familiar sight of a packed house, our 30th consecutive sold-out show.

The match is for the title, so the belt is presented, the bell rings and we’re off. Like a fool, Switch decides to try and grapple at the start. I plant him face-down on the mat, throwing him around like a ragdoll. All goes well as I put on a mat clinic and him constantly scrambling for ropes to break the hold. After some time, I get a grin and start rubbing my hands together in anticipation. As Switch finally stands up, I snap my arms around his hips and quickly fling him overhead in a German Suplex, bridging for the first pin attempt and getting a quick two-count.

Switch slides out to get some space and a breather, I decide to have none of that and chase him out on the floor. After running him around once, he then grabs and throws me at the barricade. I expect the hit, offering my back to the metal to soften the blow, but apparently the guardrail wasn't secured right.

I got a satisfying crash noise out of the hit but with the barricade not secured as it should have been, it gave way and fell down. For an instant I can see the front few rows clear away as I go ass-over-tea-kettle, leaving bare seats for me to fall onto. Initially I don't feel anything out of place while I sell, my adrenaline going hard. Once I grab the rope to crawl in and beat a count-out is when I feel it, a sharp pain shooting through my shoulder and partially down my arm.

While Switch moves to continue his offensive, I grab and find I have no strength in the arm, my dominant right arm. This is going to make a finish difficult, since many of my methods require my right to do most of the work. I quickly say something is wrong with the right, and he's smart enough to work it over, while I try to think of an escape plan.

After several minutes and different arm locks, I finally have a plan. Just as it looks like I'm through and he's got a Full Nelson on me, I manage the strength to lift him up, use my left to pin his chin to my head and deliver a debilitating jawbreaker. As he stumbles from the shot, I throw him face first into the turnbuckles.

Him selling the turnbuckle blow and me in the opposite corner for a breath, I now channel Dedushka and size up Switch, approaching slowly. The moment I see the whites of his eyes, I lift him up under his shoulder, leap up, and deliver a side slam with all my might, what grandpapa called "rock bottom". It looked impressive too, the crowd roaring in delight.

Now because I know that I won't be facing him for a while, I have to find a way to put an exclamation point on this fight. No sooner than I think, it comes to me and I slowly get up and go to the corner again. As Switch writhes around, I'm obsessively tapping my boot on the bottom rope. Once he manages to get on all fours, I charge and deliver a punt right to the side of his skull, the crack echoing in the building before being drowned out by cheers as I fall on top for the cover.

One...

Two...

... Three!

With that I have successfully defended my title, making it to six months with the title. As I glance in the locker room mirror and see my right shoulder blown up, I know that six months is all I'm getting.

The trip to the hospital after the match confirms the injury, grade two shoulder separation, four weeks off minimum. My arm in a sling and virtually unusable for a month. I have almost no grip strength in my hand and even now struggle to write. I just have to figure out how to use my left for a while.

Iron Maiden suspected an injury when I'd come back after the fight, and told me I'd have however long I'd need to recover. I'd also get a full month's pay, and the month-long vacation we'd talked about. So with business wrapped up, I head back to Glitter to plan our first trip together.