Post by Chris Strike on Aug 14, 2010 17:14:02 GMT -5
Exhilaration.
That word summed up “The God of Thunder” Chris Strike while walking back through the curtain. Beads of sweat pour out from his body with each step he takes, all while he lets out a deep breath – a ritual he has taken in the afterward of every match since his return to professional wrestling, exorcising his stress in a matter of seconds and keeping his mind stable. After all, one show into his arrival at Kingdom of Pride and the self-proclaimed God of Thunder already has painted a gigantic bull’s-eye on his entire body. His encounter with his one of his old, annoying acquaintances in Storm backstage, his performance against John Parker and Steven Carter at the end of that tag team match minutes ago and now, his willingness to embrace taking on both Adam Abel and Josh Eagles in next week’s main event.
You see, this was the part he exclaimed in triumph, pumping his fists and letting out a war cry capable of shaking the world’s foundations. Ever since the beginning of his career, the entire world could count on Chris Strike to be the emotional one, the man who wore his emotions on his sleeves, unleashing and containing them – impossible to hide from the prying eyes of fans of the craft, no matter their race, gender, customs and allegiances. Once the young, brash blazing inferno smoldering through the world of professional wrestling, he found his next evolutionary step and greatest success under his status as God of Thunder. He won multiple titles, found his way into national television and became one of the most beloved figures in all of GSB wrestling before its fall from grace and long before the demise of his personal life (the loss of a wife, two beautiful children, a large-sized house to provide them all the running space, the leather-covered photo books containing all the memories from Alexander and Katherine blowing the candles with their father’s help on their first birthday to the eventual graduation from high school and sitting back in a rocking chair, hand-in-hand with his beloved Ayla, growing old and basking in the peace and quiet).
In loss and in despair, he nearly lost the fire that once burnt brighter than the flame Prometheus brought to Earth along with the essence that made him this self-proclaimed deity in the squared circle - destined to rot away as a bitter, lonely and broken man. But the Fates had other plans for him. They brought Pro Wrestling FIRE into his path, they brought an undefeated wrestler by the name of Kurt Noble in his memories and eventually, the self-proclaimed God of Thunder stirred from what was supposed to be his eternal slumber and within the months, Chris Strike finally got over it all – dropping the melancholy like a bad habit by simply raining down his fury on men such as Chris Hart, Josh Eagles, Cory Levy, Jeof Caravelle and so on. The flame within didn’t burn as wildly as it did in his early days, but his evolution from overly emotional youngster to fully matured wrestler was complete and now, more so than ever before, the self-proclaimed God of Thunder was the fully fledged best professional wrestler in the world!
Thus, Chris Strike settles for pumping his right fist in the air and a large grin on his lips.
Tonight, it was John Parker and Steven Carter that got thunderstruck.
Next week, it was time for Adam Abel and Josh Eagles to get reacquainted with the God of Thunder!
------------
Days later, exhilaration within Chris Strike has changed to clear amusement – at least when given his current situation. Sitting on the driver’s seat of a moving car, both hands on the wheel and cruising down 90 MPH on I-225, brown aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the mighty power of the Sun, all while a soft-featured, heart-shaped and peach colored face with strands of shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair and a pair of dashing brown eyes bantered in a loud, fast Irish accent that was almost nearly impossible to follow unless you were paying close, close attention.
“…furthermore, Georgie was not your biggest fan by the end of the night,” explained Serena Gallagher, the Irish (and thus, the accent) New York Times bestselling author that currently sat in the passenger seat of Chris Strike’s dark green Aston Martin DB9 with the ever-so-unique Brazilian flag vanity plate. “You were being bloody rude, Chris.”
“She was being a bitch with a stick up her ass,” Strike tapped the steering wheel with his fingers a few times, rolling his eyes while remembering the annoying blond from weeks ago at Serena’s party. “I merely pointed out that the club she supports is shit, her country’s team is a bunch of overrated pussies, that I am better than Jerry McClean and then that she needed to get laid and that I was single.”
“Chris,” began Serena, the next words escaping her mouth slowly so as to make her point clearer. “She has a fella!”
“So what?” Strike asked, clearly amused that Serena gave him a reason to use this line. “Football has keepers, doesn’t mean you can’t score!” Before Serena could shoot another glare at his direction, he turned his attentions to her for a quick second (turning back to the road immediately after their eyes meet – after all, neither one of them wanted to die in a car crash). “Look, I know you are her friend and everything, but I am not an ass to anyone unless I am provoked first.”
“But all she said was that Brazil looked bad in that second half against the Netherlands,” countered Serena, still in an attempt to defend her good friend who worked in Sky Sports and who Jerry McClean fantasized about in a nightly basis.
Strike rubbed his cheeks with his left hand, gritting his teeth while maintaining control of the wheel with his right hand. “Hey! I simply countered that it was better than reenacting World War II on the field – oh Jesus, now this conversation is going in circles for fuck’s sakes!”
After exclaiming the last few words, Serena simply stared at the self-proclaimed God of Thunder of professional wrestling and for a while, his expression is stoic – albeit Strike couldn’t tell from the corner of his eye, once again, his focus being on the road. Finally, Serena shakes her head, her lips curling into a small smile and her body language clearly telling that she was holding in the urge to either slap Strike across his face or burst out laughing. She settles for a sigh and that same smile, reaching with her left hand for Chris’ right shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. After all, the expression “for fuck’s sakes” was something that came out of her mouth daily – be it in regards to something occurring in the world or towards some fucking dolt being an arse. “I am clearly rubbin’ off on you, aren’t I love?”
Chris flashed Serena a quick smile back. “You have your moments, Rena.”
Pleased with the answer, Serena gives Chris’ shoulder one more squeeze before bringing her left hand back and clapping them together, leaning further back in her seat. “So, what’s the plan for this week?”
“I already called Kurt and Jeremy on this, as long as you aren’t turning the entire locker room into an uproar while doing research, sign a liability clause not holding the company responsible for any possible harm you may come into and you refuse Christian Kane’s sexual advances, they are fine with you doing your research for the book,” explained Strike, hoping that she wouldn’t ask about the second part of that clause. Seriously, it was for her well-being more than anyone else. “I even convinced Kurt into giving you a crash course on the business itself and given his schedule, I am surprised he agreed.” Strike glanced at her direction. “You owe me for this, lass.”
Rena threw her arms up in the air in celebration, glad that her first (and probably only) option for the research of the new book she planned on writing paid off – not to mention, it allowed her to spend more time in the States, a country she did enjoy visiting. “Yes! Chris, tanks so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!” exclaimed Serena giddily, leaning closer to Strike – as much as the bloody seatbelt allows her to – and kissing his cheek softly before leaning back to the passenger’s seat. “You may be an arse at points, but you can be quite a sweetheart as well. Not to mention, quite the handsome fella!”
Chris beamed, clearly flattered by the praise and yet, he had expected it. Even if he only truly spent time around Serena Gallagher for two weeks, from their interactions and phone conversations, Chris Strike knew very well about her dedication to her craft, her writing having become the essence of her being. Something she strives to perfect draft by draft, sentence by sentence, much like a professional wrestler trains day by day, week by week in order to be the very best. They both had the exact work ethic when approaching their respective careers and that was probably the biggest bond they formed in such a short time, based on the admiration and respect for each other’s craft.
Finally, Chris nodded back at her. “Thank you.” Seeing the exit for I-25 on the horizon, Chris flipped his turn signal up, glancing at his right-side mirror before turning the steering wheel slightly and merging within the next lane, doing the same once more to get the Aston Martin DB9 on the very last lane of I-225 and right in the lane to exit into I-25 – thus, getting Strike and Serena on their way to his home.
“So, big main event match this weekend, huh?” mentioned Serena, clearly alluding to the triple threat match at Kingdom of Pride’s Oblivion show this weekend – Strike’s second main event in his second week of working for the company. “Josh Eagles an’ Adam Abel. Tough competition.”
“Competition…more like a pain in my ass,” Strike’s quick response catches Serena by surprise, as she raises her right eyebrow slightly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle and I understand that Sterling wants to put on a hell of match here, but at the same time…”
“You feel like you’re being forced into something you have no business being in the middle of, right?” concluded Serena, ending Chris Strike’s own sentence for him while feeling the Aston Martin slow down from 90 to 45 mph – having now reached the I-25 exit lane. As the car eventually makes its turn into I-25, Serena feels it accelerating once more into the same roaring speed they were in moments ago.
Strike nods, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel while his eyes focused on the blazing new highway, filled with far more cars than I-225. “Exactly. I am not a Josh Eagles fan to begin with and Adam Abel has descended to a level where even I feel it’s not worth wasting time on him” he explained, having kept up with this sudden alliance that Adam Abel and Christian Kane made over the last few weeks, exploiting it in order to hurt the likes of KoP Valiant Champion Chris Hart and Josh Eagles – what some could call Adam Abel’s destined rival. “But regardless of how I feel about both these guys, this is one intervention I cannot ignore. Not if I want to claim this Kingdom as my own.”
“The Valiant title…” says Serena, immediately thinking of the one goal a man of Chris Strike’s status and ability would chase in a heartbeat if given a legitimate shot at it.
“The way I see it, I play my cards right and keep winning…Noble and Sterling will have no choice but to at least put me in a contendership match for the belt come September 12,” stated Strike, now talking about Kingdom of Pride’s next super card on that same date: Autumn Annihilation. “But to even be considered something close enough to a number one contender, I need to intervene on this tedious little blood feud and beat Abel and Eagles senseless.”
Serena let those words hang in the air for a moment before finally coming up with something objective to add to the conversation. “At least, you can breathe in relief knowing the odds of being double-teamed by them is slim, right?” she asked, as given what Chris said and what happened last week before Sterling’s announcement, that was rather unlikely.
“Wouldn’t that be something else,” Strike shook his head, chuckling at the mere idea of two heated rivals like Abel and Eagles ever coming back from the roads they have now taken. “Having to force those two fuckers to join forces in order to try and take out the God of Thunder, only to slap them senseless with the truth.”
“The truth?” Serena inquired curiously.
“That even if they joined forces, they cannot stop me,” A sly grin surged onto Chris Strike’s features, his eyes narrowing under the aviators and his next words displaying that same attitude and confidence that many adored watching put on during the years and that his foes loathed with every fiber of their being. “I am going to take them down Serena. One by one, they will fall by my hand…just you watch, Serena. Just you watch…”
Watching this self-proclaimed God of Thunder persona within Chris Strike seemingly take over, Serena Gallagher did the one thing every obvious, self-respecting writer/author could do when observing a muse taking shape in live form. She reached down into a silver, circular bag with a baby blue outline around it and a bright star of that same color and pulled out a pen and notebook from it. Her hands instinctively took over as she began writing furiously against the empty sheets of paper, eyes gazing back and forth between Chris Strike and the notebook itself – all while they continued to drive down through the highway.
For Serena Gallagher, this world she recently found her entry in was – honestly - completely out of the ordinary. It had untapped potential, be it within the characters that wrote themselves with their antics or the settings taking them from bingo halls in small towns of the world to big, illustrious arenas in the hearts of cities to even the fast-paced, surprisingly athletic action that occurred night in and night out within that velvet-roped, four-sided ring. It was the beginning of a journey for her and this vision, this self-proclaimed “God” of professional wrestling was to be her guide and her muse for as long as it took to write this new novel of hers. Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, Serena Gallagher’ pen finally stopped. She looked over at her written material and then her eyes looked upon Chris Strike once more.
Like any reader curled with a good book in their hands, she was hooked.
His quest to conquer Kingdom of Pride was something she needed to see through.
That word summed up “The God of Thunder” Chris Strike while walking back through the curtain. Beads of sweat pour out from his body with each step he takes, all while he lets out a deep breath – a ritual he has taken in the afterward of every match since his return to professional wrestling, exorcising his stress in a matter of seconds and keeping his mind stable. After all, one show into his arrival at Kingdom of Pride and the self-proclaimed God of Thunder already has painted a gigantic bull’s-eye on his entire body. His encounter with his one of his old, annoying acquaintances in Storm backstage, his performance against John Parker and Steven Carter at the end of that tag team match minutes ago and now, his willingness to embrace taking on both Adam Abel and Josh Eagles in next week’s main event.
You see, this was the part he exclaimed in triumph, pumping his fists and letting out a war cry capable of shaking the world’s foundations. Ever since the beginning of his career, the entire world could count on Chris Strike to be the emotional one, the man who wore his emotions on his sleeves, unleashing and containing them – impossible to hide from the prying eyes of fans of the craft, no matter their race, gender, customs and allegiances. Once the young, brash blazing inferno smoldering through the world of professional wrestling, he found his next evolutionary step and greatest success under his status as God of Thunder. He won multiple titles, found his way into national television and became one of the most beloved figures in all of GSB wrestling before its fall from grace and long before the demise of his personal life (the loss of a wife, two beautiful children, a large-sized house to provide them all the running space, the leather-covered photo books containing all the memories from Alexander and Katherine blowing the candles with their father’s help on their first birthday to the eventual graduation from high school and sitting back in a rocking chair, hand-in-hand with his beloved Ayla, growing old and basking in the peace and quiet).
In loss and in despair, he nearly lost the fire that once burnt brighter than the flame Prometheus brought to Earth along with the essence that made him this self-proclaimed deity in the squared circle - destined to rot away as a bitter, lonely and broken man. But the Fates had other plans for him. They brought Pro Wrestling FIRE into his path, they brought an undefeated wrestler by the name of Kurt Noble in his memories and eventually, the self-proclaimed God of Thunder stirred from what was supposed to be his eternal slumber and within the months, Chris Strike finally got over it all – dropping the melancholy like a bad habit by simply raining down his fury on men such as Chris Hart, Josh Eagles, Cory Levy, Jeof Caravelle and so on. The flame within didn’t burn as wildly as it did in his early days, but his evolution from overly emotional youngster to fully matured wrestler was complete and now, more so than ever before, the self-proclaimed God of Thunder was the fully fledged best professional wrestler in the world!
Thus, Chris Strike settles for pumping his right fist in the air and a large grin on his lips.
Tonight, it was John Parker and Steven Carter that got thunderstruck.
Next week, it was time for Adam Abel and Josh Eagles to get reacquainted with the God of Thunder!
------------
Days later, exhilaration within Chris Strike has changed to clear amusement – at least when given his current situation. Sitting on the driver’s seat of a moving car, both hands on the wheel and cruising down 90 MPH on I-225, brown aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the mighty power of the Sun, all while a soft-featured, heart-shaped and peach colored face with strands of shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair and a pair of dashing brown eyes bantered in a loud, fast Irish accent that was almost nearly impossible to follow unless you were paying close, close attention.
“…furthermore, Georgie was not your biggest fan by the end of the night,” explained Serena Gallagher, the Irish (and thus, the accent) New York Times bestselling author that currently sat in the passenger seat of Chris Strike’s dark green Aston Martin DB9 with the ever-so-unique Brazilian flag vanity plate. “You were being bloody rude, Chris.”
“She was being a bitch with a stick up her ass,” Strike tapped the steering wheel with his fingers a few times, rolling his eyes while remembering the annoying blond from weeks ago at Serena’s party. “I merely pointed out that the club she supports is shit, her country’s team is a bunch of overrated pussies, that I am better than Jerry McClean and then that she needed to get laid and that I was single.”
“Chris,” began Serena, the next words escaping her mouth slowly so as to make her point clearer. “She has a fella!”
“So what?” Strike asked, clearly amused that Serena gave him a reason to use this line. “Football has keepers, doesn’t mean you can’t score!” Before Serena could shoot another glare at his direction, he turned his attentions to her for a quick second (turning back to the road immediately after their eyes meet – after all, neither one of them wanted to die in a car crash). “Look, I know you are her friend and everything, but I am not an ass to anyone unless I am provoked first.”
“But all she said was that Brazil looked bad in that second half against the Netherlands,” countered Serena, still in an attempt to defend her good friend who worked in Sky Sports and who Jerry McClean fantasized about in a nightly basis.
Strike rubbed his cheeks with his left hand, gritting his teeth while maintaining control of the wheel with his right hand. “Hey! I simply countered that it was better than reenacting World War II on the field – oh Jesus, now this conversation is going in circles for fuck’s sakes!”
After exclaiming the last few words, Serena simply stared at the self-proclaimed God of Thunder of professional wrestling and for a while, his expression is stoic – albeit Strike couldn’t tell from the corner of his eye, once again, his focus being on the road. Finally, Serena shakes her head, her lips curling into a small smile and her body language clearly telling that she was holding in the urge to either slap Strike across his face or burst out laughing. She settles for a sigh and that same smile, reaching with her left hand for Chris’ right shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. After all, the expression “for fuck’s sakes” was something that came out of her mouth daily – be it in regards to something occurring in the world or towards some fucking dolt being an arse. “I am clearly rubbin’ off on you, aren’t I love?”
Chris flashed Serena a quick smile back. “You have your moments, Rena.”
Pleased with the answer, Serena gives Chris’ shoulder one more squeeze before bringing her left hand back and clapping them together, leaning further back in her seat. “So, what’s the plan for this week?”
“I already called Kurt and Jeremy on this, as long as you aren’t turning the entire locker room into an uproar while doing research, sign a liability clause not holding the company responsible for any possible harm you may come into and you refuse Christian Kane’s sexual advances, they are fine with you doing your research for the book,” explained Strike, hoping that she wouldn’t ask about the second part of that clause. Seriously, it was for her well-being more than anyone else. “I even convinced Kurt into giving you a crash course on the business itself and given his schedule, I am surprised he agreed.” Strike glanced at her direction. “You owe me for this, lass.”
Rena threw her arms up in the air in celebration, glad that her first (and probably only) option for the research of the new book she planned on writing paid off – not to mention, it allowed her to spend more time in the States, a country she did enjoy visiting. “Yes! Chris, tanks so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!” exclaimed Serena giddily, leaning closer to Strike – as much as the bloody seatbelt allows her to – and kissing his cheek softly before leaning back to the passenger’s seat. “You may be an arse at points, but you can be quite a sweetheart as well. Not to mention, quite the handsome fella!”
Chris beamed, clearly flattered by the praise and yet, he had expected it. Even if he only truly spent time around Serena Gallagher for two weeks, from their interactions and phone conversations, Chris Strike knew very well about her dedication to her craft, her writing having become the essence of her being. Something she strives to perfect draft by draft, sentence by sentence, much like a professional wrestler trains day by day, week by week in order to be the very best. They both had the exact work ethic when approaching their respective careers and that was probably the biggest bond they formed in such a short time, based on the admiration and respect for each other’s craft.
Finally, Chris nodded back at her. “Thank you.” Seeing the exit for I-25 on the horizon, Chris flipped his turn signal up, glancing at his right-side mirror before turning the steering wheel slightly and merging within the next lane, doing the same once more to get the Aston Martin DB9 on the very last lane of I-225 and right in the lane to exit into I-25 – thus, getting Strike and Serena on their way to his home.
“So, big main event match this weekend, huh?” mentioned Serena, clearly alluding to the triple threat match at Kingdom of Pride’s Oblivion show this weekend – Strike’s second main event in his second week of working for the company. “Josh Eagles an’ Adam Abel. Tough competition.”
“Competition…more like a pain in my ass,” Strike’s quick response catches Serena by surprise, as she raises her right eyebrow slightly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle and I understand that Sterling wants to put on a hell of match here, but at the same time…”
“You feel like you’re being forced into something you have no business being in the middle of, right?” concluded Serena, ending Chris Strike’s own sentence for him while feeling the Aston Martin slow down from 90 to 45 mph – having now reached the I-25 exit lane. As the car eventually makes its turn into I-25, Serena feels it accelerating once more into the same roaring speed they were in moments ago.
Strike nods, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel while his eyes focused on the blazing new highway, filled with far more cars than I-225. “Exactly. I am not a Josh Eagles fan to begin with and Adam Abel has descended to a level where even I feel it’s not worth wasting time on him” he explained, having kept up with this sudden alliance that Adam Abel and Christian Kane made over the last few weeks, exploiting it in order to hurt the likes of KoP Valiant Champion Chris Hart and Josh Eagles – what some could call Adam Abel’s destined rival. “But regardless of how I feel about both these guys, this is one intervention I cannot ignore. Not if I want to claim this Kingdom as my own.”
“The Valiant title…” says Serena, immediately thinking of the one goal a man of Chris Strike’s status and ability would chase in a heartbeat if given a legitimate shot at it.
“The way I see it, I play my cards right and keep winning…Noble and Sterling will have no choice but to at least put me in a contendership match for the belt come September 12,” stated Strike, now talking about Kingdom of Pride’s next super card on that same date: Autumn Annihilation. “But to even be considered something close enough to a number one contender, I need to intervene on this tedious little blood feud and beat Abel and Eagles senseless.”
Serena let those words hang in the air for a moment before finally coming up with something objective to add to the conversation. “At least, you can breathe in relief knowing the odds of being double-teamed by them is slim, right?” she asked, as given what Chris said and what happened last week before Sterling’s announcement, that was rather unlikely.
“Wouldn’t that be something else,” Strike shook his head, chuckling at the mere idea of two heated rivals like Abel and Eagles ever coming back from the roads they have now taken. “Having to force those two fuckers to join forces in order to try and take out the God of Thunder, only to slap them senseless with the truth.”
“The truth?” Serena inquired curiously.
“That even if they joined forces, they cannot stop me,” A sly grin surged onto Chris Strike’s features, his eyes narrowing under the aviators and his next words displaying that same attitude and confidence that many adored watching put on during the years and that his foes loathed with every fiber of their being. “I am going to take them down Serena. One by one, they will fall by my hand…just you watch, Serena. Just you watch…”
Watching this self-proclaimed God of Thunder persona within Chris Strike seemingly take over, Serena Gallagher did the one thing every obvious, self-respecting writer/author could do when observing a muse taking shape in live form. She reached down into a silver, circular bag with a baby blue outline around it and a bright star of that same color and pulled out a pen and notebook from it. Her hands instinctively took over as she began writing furiously against the empty sheets of paper, eyes gazing back and forth between Chris Strike and the notebook itself – all while they continued to drive down through the highway.
For Serena Gallagher, this world she recently found her entry in was – honestly - completely out of the ordinary. It had untapped potential, be it within the characters that wrote themselves with their antics or the settings taking them from bingo halls in small towns of the world to big, illustrious arenas in the hearts of cities to even the fast-paced, surprisingly athletic action that occurred night in and night out within that velvet-roped, four-sided ring. It was the beginning of a journey for her and this vision, this self-proclaimed “God” of professional wrestling was to be her guide and her muse for as long as it took to write this new novel of hers. Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, Serena Gallagher’ pen finally stopped. She looked over at her written material and then her eyes looked upon Chris Strike once more.
Like any reader curled with a good book in their hands, she was hooked.
His quest to conquer Kingdom of Pride was something she needed to see through.
