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Câu chuyện MidReal
Grappling Shadows: The Rogue's Redemption
Bối cảnh:Sargent Rogue 32 year in pro wrestling now retired
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Sargent Rogue
retired professional wrestler, relationships with family and old colleagues, muscular build with tattoos, charismatic and introspective.
Emily Hart
Sargent's younger sister and confidante, close to Sargent and his friends from the wrestling world, petite with curly hair, caring and ambitious.
Marcus "The Mauler" Jackson
former wrestling rival turned friend of Sargent's, complex relationship with Sargent and others in the wrestling circle, tall with a rugged appearance, competitive yet loyal.
The arena was buzzing.
I could hear the crowd, just slightly, through the curtain.
It was an odd feeling, knowing that this was the last time I’d be standing here, preparing to go out in front of thousands of people.
I was used to it, but tonight it felt different.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down.
I didn’t want to mess up on my final match.
I looked around at the others.
They were all there: my sister, Emily; my best friend and tag-team partner, Marcus "The Mauler" Jackson; and a bunch of the other wrestlers who had become like a second family to me over the years.
It was weird knowing that I’d never see most of them again after tonight.
Emily was the first to notice my nerves.
"Hey, Rogue," she said, her voice cutting through the din. "You okay?"
I nodded, trying to muster a smile. "Yeah, just... you know, last match jitters."
She gave me a knowing look. "You've got this. Just do what you always do."
Marcus clapped me on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of me. "Listen to your sister, man. You're gonna kill it out there."
I chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks, Mauler. Couldn't have done any of this without you."
He grinned, his signature toothy smile that had intimidated so many opponents over the years. "Damn right you couldn't."
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, calling out the preliminary matches. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum.
Emily squeezed my arm. "Remember why you started this in the first place."
I took another deep breath and nodded. I remembered all too well—the thrill of the fight, the roar of the crowd, and most importantly, the bond with my fellow wrestlers.
The curtain rustled as another wrestler passed through it, heading towards the ring. I could hear the crowd's reaction—a mix of cheers and boos.
"Alright," Marcus said, slapping his hands together. "Let's get you ready."
He handed me my gear—my boots, knee pads, and my custom-made jacket with "Sargent Rogue" emblazoned on the back.
As I laced up my boots, memories flooded back—my first match, the countless hours of training, the injuries and triumphs.
Emily handed me my elbow pads. "Here," she said softly. "For luck."
I smiled at her and slipped them on. "Thanks, sis."
Marcus adjusted his own gear beside me. "You remember that time we took down The Iron Giants?"
I laughed. "How could I forget? They were twice our size."
"And we still whooped their asses," he said with a grin.
The announcer's voice echoed again, signaling that it was almost time for my match.
"Alright," I said, standing up and rolling my shoulders. "Let's do this."
Emily hugged me tightly. "Go get 'em, Rogue."
Marcus gave me one last pat on the back. "See you out there."
I stepped towards the curtain, feeling a mix of excitement and dread.
The lights beyond it were blindingly bright.
As I pushed through and emerged into the arena, the noise hit me like a tidal wave.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
I raised my arms in acknowledgment, soaking in every moment.
This was it—the culmination of years of hard work and dedication.
I walked down the ramp towards the ring, feeling every eye on me.
My heart raced as I climbed up onto the apron and stepped through the ropes.
The ring felt both familiar and foreign under my feet.
I looked around at the sea of faces—fans who had supported me throughout my career.
In one corner of the ring stood my opponent for tonight—an up-and-coming wrestler named Johnny Blaze.
He was young and hungry for victory.
But tonight wasn't about him; it was about me going out on my terms.
The referee called us to the center of the ring for final instructions.
Johnny smirked at me. "Ready to pass the torch, old man?"
I smirked back. "Not just yet, kid."
The bell rang, signaling the start of the match.
We circled each other warily before locking up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up.
Johnny tried to overpower me with his youthful strength but I held my ground.
With a sudden burst of energy, I twisted his arm into a wristlock and flipped him onto his back.
The crowd roared in approval as Johnny scrambled to his feet.
He charged at me again but I sidestepped him and delivered a swift kick to his midsection.
He doubled over in pain as I grabbed him by the head and slammed him into the turnbuckle.
The impact reverberated through my body as adrenaline surged through my veins.
This was where I belonged—in this ring with these people cheering me on.
