Here We Go

[brandonnytrus]

Brandon Nytrus' Apartment
Las Vegas, NV
7:59 AM, August 23rd, 2012

Laying in his bed, Brandon Nytrus is sound asleep. His alarm set for 8 o'clock...it's the morning of Step Up. His much anticipated match against the man named Chicken.

His last hardcore match was over a month ago. He's been preparing the same way for years. It's just been a while.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

His clock next to the bed interrupts the sleep of Nytrus. He opens his eyes and smiles, knowing what day it is.

Sitting up, he rubs his eyes to try and wake himself up. He then turns the alarm off and gets out of bed, walking into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day.

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About ten minutes later...Nytrus emerges from the bathroom and gets his suit on, to go to work.

In the kitchen, he toasts a bagel and spoils himself by putting some peanut butter on it. He smiles and sits down on the couch and watches some TV before work.

Once he finishes, he puts the plate in the sink and grabs his bag from beside the couch and leaves his apartment.

He walks out to his car, but once he gets in the car he gets a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Brandon? This is Tasha Jordan? From MPW? The announcer?"

"I know who you are."

Still on the phone, Brandon starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

"I'm just calling you to wish you luck."

"What do you really want, Tasha."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't really think I would believe that you would call me and wish me luck for tonight? What do you really want, Tasha?"

There's a bit of silence on the phone, and then there's a sigh.

"Brandon...I just want to ask for you to take it easy on Chicken tonight...I know you're angry with some of the things he says...but he's really hurt and I--"

"Tasha, Tasha, Tasha...you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm not someone who, takes it, easy? And I'm certainly not someone who will take pity on a little brat who can run his mouth and not expect to get popped for it...I'm not going to go easy on him. You can do whatever you want tonight to stop me. But I have my eyes and heart locked on the Step Up Championship. Nothing will stop me. I'm like a train going to it's destination. It won't stop until it gets there, or until something or someone makes it."

Yet another stupid analogy from the Hardcore one.

"Um...okay. Well, then I guess I'll just see you when you get here."

Nytrus hangs the phone up while he makes his way to the arena.

There's no traffic, so he gets there fairly earlier than expected.

After he drops off his stuff in his locker room, he gets dressed to head to the gym that's just down the street. He needs to work out to be prepared. But before he can leave the locker room, the door has a knock on it.

He walks to the door and opens it.

"I thought I made everything clear the other day."

Sweeney stands in the door way, looking up at Nytrus, looking somewhat nervous.

"Look, I know that you're busy right now, but I'm just here to ask you--"

"Hey...didn't Tasha tell you what I said? I'm not going to go easy on Chicken. He's not going to be any different from someone else in the back. Okay? This guy isn't special. Well...at least not in the way you're thinking about. He's not getting a handicap. He's not getting any special treatment because he's hurt, so just back the hell off and leave me be. I need to get to the gym to get ready. Out of my way."

He walks past Sweeney without giving him any way to say a word.

Nytrus walks back out to his car and gets to hit the gym and workout before he takes out Chicken.

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Backstage at Step Up!
Las Vegas, NV
Same day, 7:21 PM

Nytrus makes his way back from the gym and some errands to the arena.

He rushes back to his locker room to get ready and start his prematch rituals.

Once he gets back, he changes right into his trunks and pads. He's ready appearance-wise. But not mentally and physically.

Nytrus stretches and throws some punches to a punching bag in his room that set up a couple days ago.

Physically, check.

He begins to sit in the middle of room. Brandon crosses his legs and closes his eyes. Hr mutters some things to himself, not really able to pick it up at all. But when he opens his eyes...it's almost the devil shines right through the hazel eyes of Brandon Nytrus that almost turn red.

Mentally, check.

He smirks, and stands. He grabs the t-shirt hanging from the back of a folding chair in the corner of the room.

'The Hardcore Icon', 'The Duke of Xtreme', walks out of the room on to his first ever hardcore match under a MPW contract.

Approaching the gorilla position...the match before his ends and the competitors walk through the curtain.

He walks up to the curtain and awaits his cue.

A huge, loud guitar riff starts as he hears the boos start and he chuckles.

"Here we go."[/center][/b]