With a contented sigh, he stretched his limbs beneath the soft covers, feeling the gentle pull and release of his muscles as they came to life. The drowsiness that had blanketed his thoughts began to give way to a growing awareness of the world around him. He blinked against the morning light, letting his gaze settle on the familiar contours of his room.
As his mind cleared, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Last night's rest had been a gift, a precious respite from the demands and pressures that had been tugging at him. It was as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted, leaving him with a renewed sense of vitality. He relished in the simple pleasure of being well-rested, allowing the feeling to permeate every fibre of his being.
But as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, a faint pang of realization cut through his tranquillity. There, among the notifications that had gathered overnight, was a message he hadn't expected – a message that sent a jolt of awareness through his veins. Legion had posted a promo days ago, a gauntlet thrown that he had yet to respond to.
Stu-E's brow furrowed in a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. How had he missed it? He tapped on the message, watching as the video played on his phone's screen. Legion's voice, a blend of calculated confidence and veiled threats, filled the room. The camera angles, the intensity in his eyes – it was all calculated to get under his skin.
The realization that he had missed a crucial opportunity to respond gnawed at Stu-E. He was aware of the psychological warfare that played out beyond the arena, the importance of maintaining a strong presence both physically and verbally. And yet, in the aftermath of his restful night, he had allowed a vital moment to slip through his fingers.
Setting his phone aside, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the floor beneath his feet grounding him in the present. He felt a renewed determination coursing through his veins, a fire that had been kindled by the urgency of the situation. He would need to craft a response, one that carried the weight of his resolve and countered Legion's mind games.
“You’re not very clever, are you? You whine and bitch that you’re not responsible for what Fallen did, you go begging to the Parkers for your job back but all it takes is few buttons being pressed by me to have you finishing promos off bringing up my daughter? Why?
Because you lack the brain power to come up with something original? Because you thought that’s a way to what, bust a reaction from me? You’re pathetic. I am going to say to you one time, I’ve already had an awkward phone conversation regarding your actions on Havoc by some people who, if they really wanted to teach you a lesson you’d be gone before you could say ‘forgetaboutit’ so I’m saying be very careful with how you hold yourself between now and Art of War regarding her, for your own good.”
As he prepared to face the day, Stu-E Price felt a blend of emotions – a gratitude for the restful sleep he had enjoyed and a steely resolve to rise to the challenge presented by Legion's promo.
“I must apologise to you for not responding to you sooner, you’ve probably seen me and Billy Boy going at it back and forth, no doubt he’ll post something again soon because he’s the sort of guy that likes hearing his own voice. I’m gonna have to submit a clip of him to Maffew for the ‘You Talk Too Much’ part of Botchamania.
It makes sense that bastard is talking so much, trying to ensure my focus is taken away from you long enough, no doubt how the match is going to go; you two working together to try and throw me off my game. Good luck with that, I’ve actually won a couple of titles against the odds in handicap matches, so bring it on. The equaliser is there’s no disqualification, so if I need to wrap a chair round your heads to level it up, so be it.
You’re even dumb enough to think that Art of War is the pinnacle, the end of our road. Far from it, this little handicap match is just a minor battle. There’s going to be a few more before we are finished with each other, I guarantee it. So keep training, when the match is over and you’re laying down in your locker room deep down you’ll know that The Price is coming for you again because when it’s all said and done, no matter what, everybody pays The Price.”
The room's tranquillity was a stark contrast to the storm that raged within him, a storm fuelled by the knowledge that every move, every word, mattered in the arena of competition and rivalry.
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