The sky collided. The rain swooped in. The dead lay still.
FLASH.
Lightning came.
FLASH.
Lightning went.
He stood at the foot of her grave gazing into the void. The cemetery was a wasteland. His heart was not far behind. Water droplets form and stream down his blonde hairline, traveling the length of his face. In his hands, he cradles a small book, his diary. Red bolts stain his eyes as he thins his lips. There was nothing he could do to make this better. He came to her in times of need, he came to her when no one else would.
Images of her funeral played out before her grave; a painful recollection.
“I can’t be here all day. Since we’re in a hunch and I should be on vacation I take cash, not credit. You understand, yes?”
The pushy money-grubbing pastor, the epitome of greed. Immoral bastard. If only Sawyer could get away with murder.
“You gonna read it? Or..?”
Dear Jordan,
Wherever your angel’s wings have landed, know that you are not forgotten. You are as free as the wind and those who seek out harm will be dealt with in due time. I will and always have carried your spirit on my shoulders forevermore. We will meet again one day sister and I feel your strength through me every day. It is your strength that keeps me whole. It is your strength that empowers me to achieve the unachievable. The fight isn’t over, for you, for me, and while our journeys may differ, our bond stays the same.
Love, Your Brother
“Very nice, that’ll be.. After fees, carry the one..”
Sawyer slams his diary shut and his eyes close as he did in his memory of that somber day. The pastor was gone. Everything is chrome. Everything felt lost. Is this what death felt like? In a fleeting moment, the sun cracked the code of the gray and broke through the seamless clouds. A rush of color returned and a sudden sound of rustling feathers got Sawyer’s attention.
A curious white dove. Perched on his sister’s headstone. Beautiful. The way it repositioned itself and tilted its head innocently combined with the post-storm shine off its wings was mesmerizing. Sawyer did not panic, his mind went at warp speed but he couldn’t help reaching out with his free hand. He gravitated closer and closer. Was it Jordan? Was it his sister coming to visit?
CRACK went a clap of thunder. The dove vanishes before Sawyer can even react. Sawyer drops his precious diary on her muddy corner grave. The color dissipates and the chrome returns, seeping into his soul. A voice blares through his ears.
“Sawyer did give it his all, and he's an excellent wrestler with a respectable mission, but Christ has that fire to him that Sawyer is going to need to ignite..”
That word became distorted like his world had been since Standing Room Only.
Ignite repeats over and over again like a deafening cacophony. Sawyer covers his ears. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. A stabbing migraine drops him to his knees as he rocks in place.
Not here, not now.
++++++++++
“Ignite. Ignite. Ignite. My mind, my psyche, has been a torture chamber for over a week now, but it’s there for a reason. The ascent back up the mountain will be demanding, but I’m not unfamiliar with mountains. When young fledglings learn to fly, they rely on their instincts. They are pushed from their nests and must work it out independently. It becomes less of a burden when they can spread their wings, but then they must learn to flap. Flapping leads to flight, and flight leads to endless possibilities. When I was The Valor Champion, I had a bird's-eye view over everything, and I was soaring sky high, but in recent months, I have regressed. I have made foolish promises I couldn’t adhere to. Instead of pushing the envelope, I tried keeping everything within arm’s reach, but that is the very definition of stagnation. Regroup, refocus, retreat, rethis, rethat instead of jumping back into the fray and grabbing the bull by the horns.
Blind faith? How apropos. I’m thrust into a tournament with Mercadier de Leon by my side. We have had our history, and salvation would look much better at the bottom of my boot. Still, vanquishing undesirables like Kevin Hunter and TJ Alexander would be a good way to generate momentum. I’m not here to do Salvation’s bidding, and something tells me Mercadier doesn’t care either way. Mercadier has proven he can handle himself, but what about Kevin Hunter? What about TJ Alexander? I see two combustibles who just competed in a grueling grudge match. As fate would have it, they’ve been strung together but any trust is nonexistent. TJ is a slimeball snake in the grass and always has been. Look no further than the way he treated Nobi. Kevin Hunter is a step down. He and his leather-bound EVOLVE stablemates played the numbers game and ambushed TJ to throw their weight around when Kevin Hunter had nothing better to do with his time because he was punching uphill against me and Matt Miles. Kevin Hunter is a meritless lumbering oaf with no signs of intelligence. TJ Alexander is a trifling manchild and a turncoat. When you combine the two, you get something truly hopeless.
When will you two learn that to be great, you must beat great? I will not let my guard down, and as ruthless as Mercadier is, I doubt he will either. You both hope to hold a candle to us, but you cannot even produce a flame. Instead, there is left over disdain between sworn enemies pitted against two fierce competitors. We will split your skulls in half like Moses parted the Red Sea.
The remnants of the Kevin Hunter and TJ Alexander experiment will spiral down the drain.
Yesterday at 2:43 pm by 
Subject: Chrome 
