Hands Held High (Part Two)

Hands Held High: Part 2 of 2

I see the things you need to be.

This man that you see. His name is Angelus.

You don't know him. But someday, you will.

He is a man of great discipline.

He is the best at what he does.

Angelus fears no man.

And no woman.

Tonight his life will change. Right here in North Carolina.

"They're really beefing up security tonight, huh?"

The room around him is bright, washing away the color of the wooden panels that make up the individual lockers. Around him, strewn about the carpeted floor are towels, spandex tights, and gym bags, rifled through, their contents spilled across the carpet. 

There are others in the room as well.

Some look familiar.

Others he wonders if they ever saw ring time at all.

They are well defined, well built, a unique look to each of them, and most seem to be off in their own world. Anj smirks a little, the corner of his lip twisting slightly. He continues to look around the locker room. Everyone tense. Some tired. Some energetic and ready to go.

And yet, still there is a sense of uncertainty. There is a sense of lingering doubt that seems to hang about the air like a shadow over the day. Dark and foreboding. A black void that threatens to swallow everything in its place.

It stings at his sides, and yet he is not quite sure why. 

Everyone is talking about something, but the exact topic seems to fade like static in his ears. 

"Can you blame, 'em? Fuckin' Professor is in the hospital. Who knows who'll be attacked next."

"This is some bullshit. Let me tell you. There is a code back here and these goons broke it."

"You want to go tell them that? Be my guest. I'll send flowers."

Here's what you need to know. Angelus is a revolutionary. 

He will bring about great change. It's in his makeup.

Something is coming. Something big. He can feel that. 

He's felt it once before.

You see, my friend. The world does not care for beauty. 

The world only cares for destruction and desolation. 

The world gives and the world takes away.

Anj sits and tapes his wrists and hands. A calming tactic that allows him to focus and put his mind at ease. His foot tap-tap-taps away in frenetic anticipation.

He thinks about Sarah Saint James. He wonderes if after tonight her time in the XWF will come to a close. Her naïvety that these fans admired her was going to be her downfall. The fans respect truth and handwork.

Both of those things she knew nothing about.

What she was was lucky.

Lucky that she was in the main event and even luckier that she had someone like Angelus to teach her a lesson.

See this wasn't a movie.

There was no cliche ending. 

There would be no Rocky comeback.

When Saint James stepped into that ring it was going to be fifteen to twenty minutes of her finding out why they called him the whole damn show.

"Hey Anj, it's show time."

Anj looked up from taping his hands.

"What's that?"

The man is stocky, deep grooves line his forehead. His jowls sag and his eyes droop. An old man who refused to die.

"I said you're on. Let's see some hustle."

Anj nods. Now was the time. He heads for the guerilla station and can hear the crowd cheering loud out in the arena. The place was sold out.

He can feel the jitters already. The bug has bitten him. His adrenaline is already pumping through his system. His right hand begins to shake and he clenches it into a fist.

Breathe.

Deep breath, he remembers. Deep breath.

And then his music hits, and the lights out in the arena dim.

Anj closes his eyes. One last thought before he laid it all on the line. 

One last moment of clarity before he showed the world why he was the best.

One last moment before he showed Saint James why she didn't belong here.

One last moment to let them all know that the only one they should worry about, watch for and speak of, is Angelus.

Anj opens his eyes, and tears the curtain to the side.

For this is Angelus.

After tonight everything will be different.

You don't know him yet, but someday, you will.