His muscles felt both weary and alive, a paradoxical blend of exhaustion and vitality. The sauna's heat penetrated deep, unravelling the knots and tension that his training had woven into his body. Stu-E leaned back against the smooth wooden bench, his eyes half-lidded, lost in his own thoughts. The soft hiss of steam punctuated the silence, a rhythmic backdrop to the tranquillity he sought.
Amidst the haze of heat, his mind replayed the words of Draconis that had been flung his way. He couldn't help but smile, a wry curl of his lips that betrayed the amusement he felt. Draconis had taken the bait thrown down by Price, Stu-E found himself entertained by the audacity of it all.
The water droplets on his skin glistened like tiny diamonds, catching the ambient light that filtered through the sauna's narrow window. His chest rose and fell with the measured rhythm of a man finding solace in the quietude. The comments from Draconis echoed in his mind, but they were like distant echoes, faint and inconsequential against the backdrop of his own determination.
Stu-E's amusement transformed into a quiet confidence, a fire that burned within him. He knew the game that was being played but he had faced challenges before, stared down opponents who had underestimated him. The arena was his proving ground, and he relished the opportunity to silence the doubters once more.
He leaned forward, running a hand through his damp hair as his gaze fixed on the swirls of steam dancing in the air. Draconis's words were like sparks in the night, momentarily bright but ultimately fading. Stu-E's focus remained unshaken, his mind a sanctuary of purpose and unwavering determination.
“You silly bastard, you took the bait. I knew by saying what I did and then bringing up St. George you’d bite. Bloody idiot. For the record, I know very well what a hydra is, but I have no intention of taking your head, I’m only interested in ripping your heart out.
Cute attempt in trying to provoke some anti-American sentiment, by the way though. I’ve not heard such cheap words since 1999, you been reading the Mick Foley playbook for a cheap pop? I love America, I have American family, family members have fought in the United States military very proudly in several conflicts. You’ll be surprised where my bloodline goes around this World and just how involved we are in various hierarchies.”
As he breathed in the warm, moist air, he allowed himself a moment to savour the anticipation that coursed through his veins. The upcoming match was a crescendo, a culmination of his sweat, sacrifice, and unyielding dedication. The sauna was his sanctuary, a space where he could contemplate, recharge, and embrace the calm before the storm.
“You know, Billy Bitchcakes, I’m not paranoid about this match because I’m right, The Price is right; Legion owes you for helping him get rehired, he’s in your pocket, so when the time comes and your little puppy sees you’re in trouble, he’ll be there to save your ass. Tell you what, instead of sitting with vets and boring them to suicide, head off to a veterinarian and ask them stich back that pair of balls you seem to be missing.”
During the heat and the quiet, Stu-E Price found himself ready – ready to face the physical onslaught, ready to unravel the psychological tapestry woven by his opponents. The flickering light and the enveloping steam mirrored the dichotomy of his emotions – a sense of calm determination amidst the blazing fire of his spirit.
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