The Backroads
September 3rd, 9:48 PM

I crept forward under the illumination of the street lights above. With each collision between my foot and the concrete, my heart continued to beat. Each step, another beat. I knew that no one could see me. I was entirely too stealthy to let something like that happen. While walking in the light, I knew I was still shrouded by darkness. A few strides up this road and down that. All the while, carrying the suitcase at my hip. Its contents would land me back in prison for sure, but regardless of the risk, business still had to be done. A cool breeze swimming through the night air wriggled its way into and out of my shirt. I shivered slightly, but continued walking.

Something felt odd about this night to say the least. Not that I felt I was going to be caught, but rather that something sinister awaited me at the night's end. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but if I were to turn and run from all things unknown, I would never be in the position I am. Two wins away from holding gold. And not just any old belt, but the very, very top strap this business has to offer. The Adrenaline Championship. I just have to make it through four different opponents, and all the glory, all the praise would be mine. Finally, since my brother accomplished great things in this business, would I have something to be proud of.

A little closer now. I could feel eyes all over me as the streets were a bit more congested here. Others were walking along, completely lit and unable to articulate. The large building was one of the only buildings left in this town still giving the old school appearance of simple brick layer designs. The front doors were crowded by people trying to make any plea they could to get in. To your average, run of the mill Joe, this would look like a happening spot. But this wasn't where the magic truly happened. There was only one place in this building that could house the extraordinary. Where you could simply observe and watch your dreams take flight. These people don't know a fucking thing about that.

I rounded the side of the building quickly, with determination. I was here. Now all that needed to happen was a simple transaction, and I would be out of here. Home free you might say. But alas, the door was closed. It was no surprise, as I was quite a bit earlier than was planned. The large gentleman standing in front of the door, lit only by a single spotlight above it, seemed to have a horrible disposition about him. I approached and he glared at me, obviously attempting to intimidate.

"No entry back here. You have to go around front."

"No," I said with a reassuring smile (that wasn't working), "I'm not here for the club. I'm here to see Francis. Is he in there?"

"What business do you have with Francis?" he asked, very skeptical of my motives.

"I have a... Delivery... Of sorts for him," I said, quite unsure of how to phrase it. After all, I didn't know this guy, nor did I want him to know what my business was here. I had gotten this far, and shortly, I would be gone.

"I don't believe you," the man said, still stabbing me repeatedly with the glare he shot my way. "You're going to have to go around front."

"Listen, Bubba Jenkins," I said, my patience wearing thin, "I don't have time to sit here, going back and forth with you over whether or not you're letting me in. Either step aside, or I'll step through you."

"You'll step through me? Are you out of your fucking mind? You and what army are going to go through me, white boy?"

I stepped toward him, completely unafraid of his beanstalk looking ass, and laid the suitcase down to pick up when I was finished. He stepped down from the concrete slab upon which he stood and came toward me. As we neared one another, the back door swung open. A familiar face and frame stepped forward into the light as we both looked to the door to see.

"Enough, Jerome," he shouted to the bouncer in charge of watching the back door. "I've been waiting for him. When he says he's here to see me, you send him right in. Seth is a dear friend of mine. Do you understand?"

"He seemed like bad--"

"It was a simple question. Are you that pea brained that you can't answer a simple question?"

"I understand," he said with a sour look on his face.

"Good. When Seth comes in this door, I'm going to shut it. Then you can stand here all night and take home a paycheck. Now can you do that?"

"Yes sir," he said with an ice cold look in his eye. "Should we be expecting anyone else?"

"No," Francis said as I passed the large man on my way to the door.

I had since retrieved my suitcase and had it again at my side. I stepped up onto the concrete slab and through the door beside Francis. As soon as I passed him, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud.

The walls were maroon with various intricate designs along the top and bottom. Some parts of the wall this particular room were padded for what I could only assume were comfort reasons. He stepped across the room to the solitary wooden table on the other side, upon which another suitcase sat similar to the one I was carrying was sitting. I followed him to the table and laid my suitcase down on the table beside his. He nodded to me and opened his case, revealing that it was filled with money. Hundred dollar bills lined the inside of the suitcase. I nodded and opened my suitcase, revealing kilos of cocaine, as well as a few bags, accompanied by spoons and syringes, of heroine. He smiled as he looked down upon it. I moved over to the case of money and closed it. As Francis heard the case close, his eyes shot up at me.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking from me to the suitcase.

"What do you mean?" I asked, playing stupid quite intentionally.

"Did you count the money; make sure it's all there?"

"No," I said, reverting my eyes back to the suitcase. "I trust that it's there."

"You've never left without counting the money before," he said, looking quite confused.

"Look," I said turning back toward him, my voice rising in pitch. "Don't worry about it, alright? I trust that it's there."

"Alright, fine," he said as he closed his suitcase as well.

I picked up the suitcase and turned for the door. However, as I set my sights on the wooden frame, a hand grabbed my shoulder.

"You should stick around," Francis's voice stated behind me.

I turned back around to face him, a confused look on my face. "What are you talking about?" I asked. Never have I been invited to stick around by my customers. Even my regulars understand the difference between a friend and a drug dealer. I decided, however, to entertain the idea.

"You delivered these drugs, and you even trust me that I gave you the right amount of money. Why not reap the fruits of your labor? Why don't you do a little coke with me, hang around for awhile." He noted the skeptical look on my face and continued. "Don't worry. It's all VIP treatment."

I looked back toward the door. "Man, I've got a therapy appointment in the morning. I really can't stay out too late."

"No, man. Fuck that. You'll still get there in time. I won't keep you out too late," he said with a smile. "Just tell your momma you'll be running a little late tonight getting home," he said, ridiculing my self-established bedtime.

"Yeah, you're not funny. You know that?"

"I guess I do now, don't I?"

I guess he did. He popped the suitcase open and grabbed one of the bricks of cocaine out and admired it almost as a father admires their newborn child when the doctor puts them into their arms. He held up a finger and disappeared into another, more elaborate door. As I waited, I opened the suitcase. Looking into the face of Benjamin Franklin made me feel electrified, while the sweet aroma of the money filled my nostrils with extreme delight. All that money looked beautiful. People hurry around every day to their nine to five jobs. I couldn't imagine doing that. After all, they never get to experience beauty in its true form. In the form of several hundred thousand dollars. It's nights like this that make it all worthwhile.

I closed the suitcase and picked it back up. Resolute in the fact that I was heading out the door, I turned and made my way toward it. He was gone for way too long by this point. I'm a businessman. Once business is completed, I disappear. This is not too hard to grasp. I reached out, and just as I got a firm grip on the door handle, I heard my name.

"Seth," I heard Francis's voice call from afar. "Come in here, man. I want to show this to you."

I don't know why, but I decided to turn around and follow the calling voice. I walked into the hallway and took a left into a room. The walls in this room were lined in dark red velvet, but that was not the feature presentation. No, rather there was a female on her hands and knees, completely naked in the middle of the room. She had some of the cocaine I had just sold to Francis sprinkled on the top of her ass crack. I stared for a moment, and looked over to Francis.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, curious as to why she was on her knees in the middle of the room, drugs sitting atop her large bottom. There were a few other females, now that I came to terms with the female in the middle of the room sitting around. They too were all half dressed, and the room gave off the odd vibe of a tweaked out orgy.

"What do you think it is?" he asked with a laugh. "That's your hit. Go ahead and take care of it."

I looked down at the woman in the floor, whose head was turned toward me. Her face showed a look of pure ecstasy as she studied me carefully, biting her lip all the while. I knew I shouldn't do this, but it was everything I love all wrapped into one. A beautiful woman, an amazing ass, and a line of coke. What the hell do you expect me to do?

I walked over to her and pulled the first bill I could get a grip on out of my pocket. I looked down at Benjamin Franklin and it almost seemed like he was smiling, urging me on. How do you say no to Ben Franklin? I rolled the bill up and knelt down behind her. As I leaned down, I felt all eyes in the room lock on my face and my actions. Slowly but surely, I relished in the sweet bliss as I snorted every speck of cocaine off of her beautiful body. As I finished, I leaned back and absorbed the head rush that came after this sort of activity. I began to stand up, when I heard her soft, sweet voice speak.

"You know, if you'd like to do anything else while you're back there, you should," she said, attempting to entice me further.

I looked her body over one last time before making what was probably the most intelligent decision of my life. "Let me give you a rundown of the reasons I wouldn't do anything. Firstly, I don't have a rubber. Second, I'm not trying to score some kids. And third, if you've got it, I promise you that I don't want it."

She rolled over, slightly offended, but not breaking her look of desire to sleep with me. As I looked deeply into her eyes, I saw a twinkle that told me the entire story. It's no wonder she wasn't completely offended.

"How much did Francis pay you?" I asked her curiously. Her eyes quickly darted to Francis, who looked down at her and up at me. Their suspicious looks to one another already gave them away before any rebuttal could be offered. "I know what's going on here. Don't bullshit me. Seriously."

"Seth, I just figured I could repay you for your kindness and your consistent business with me. I just couldn't buy from anyone else."

Does this guy really think he can lie to me like this? I know all about con artists. After all, being a dealer myself, it's a prerequisite. "I appreciate the offer, but I think it's time I head home."

"Home? Don't leave yet. Have a drink. Don't worry; it's all free for you tonight."

What was the occasion? I mean, I know how much people rely on their supplier, but this is getting ridiculous. You know what would be even more ridiculous? Declining free alcohol. That would be downright unconstitutional. So of course I stepped up to the bar to get my first drink. Francis was leaning against the bar, probably his own private bar.

"What will it be, Seth?"

"Spiced rum and coke," I said casually.

"Coming right up," the bartender quickly said, turning his back to us.

Francis looked over the room, a few different conversations going on between the ladies. "Nothing like owning your own club. Wouldn't you agree, Seth?"

"I've never owned a club. Or anything for that matter."

"Of course you haven't," Francis said, admiring the women in the room. "It's amazing. You get to see new ass walk in each and every night. It's almost worth my divorce to be here right now. Don't get me wrong," he continued, "I love my wife. Well, loved," he corrected. "But I'll tell you this right now. I wouldn't go back for any amount of money possible to offer. Life is too grand this way. I couldn't imagine doing anything else anymore."

Yeah, I knew the feeling. I dealt drugs for multiple reasons. One, I was addicted to them myself. Two, I knew plenty of people who were doing these drugs, so it made for an easy quick start to the business. But after Vladimir’s assault on me months ago, it seemed very clear that this service was not quite doing it for me. I needed to find another out. After speaking with Benson, I've gone through what I would consider a transformation. An epiphany of sorts designed to help me see that there's more out there then just doing and selling drugs. Don't get me wrong, I'm not done dealing. I just have a bigger cash cow to worry about now.

"You seem disturbed, Seth. Something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," I quickly lied as I took a drink of the rum and coke. After all, I was hanging out with a customer. Unprecedented.

"So you're in the wrestling business now, are you?"

"Yeah," I said very simply. Another drink.

"How do you feel about it? From what I've heard, you've been running rough shot through the competition.

"Something like that," I said. "I'm sure I haven't seen real competition quite yet, but that will all change this weekend."

"Oh yeah?" he said with a look of interest. "Who's up this week?"

"Well," I said before taking another drink. "It's not who's up really. It's what's at stake."

"Oh?" he said. "What's the wager?"

"Winner takes home the Adrenaline Title and the right to call themselves the best."

"Well congratulations, man. See? That's why you needed to stick around. We've got celebrating to do!" He turned to the bartender behind him. "Line up a few more drinks for the Champ."

I could feel the queasy notion in my stomach. Never had anything meant this much before. Never had I needed to be more prepared in my life for something. I don't really feel that being here tonight snorting cocaine and drinking is the best method of preparation. What else was there? Do I sit at home, mulling over my opposition over and over, on the verge of vomiting every ten minutes? I'm a man, not a child. Children sit around and worry. Men make a stand and prove their worth. That's my plan. It's all I have left.

"You should be excited," he said with a large grin on his face. "Drink up. Here's to dominance!"

Francis lifted his glass into the air, and I did the same, so as not to leave him hanging. We both then took a drink and set them down. He scanned the room with a lustful look in his eye.

"Well, I'm going to get to work, see what I can't pull off. You're welcome to wander about yourself and have your pick of the women for the night if you'd like."

"I may take a walk."

"Alright. Just remember, unlimited drinks back here all night for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said as I finished my drink and stood up.

He stood and walked over to two females, who began to bat their lashes his way. Shaking my head, I walked out of the room and, instead of taking a right to go to the back room, I made a left and went through a curtain into the main part of the club. The security officers standing in front of the VIP lounge nodded to me and seemingly were reviewing me so that they remembered to let me back in should I decide to return to the room.

Once the strobe lights began to go off, I realized just how high I actually was. I took a step and my foot somehow missed the ground as I went sprawling to the floor. I looked up to make sure I had a clear path to stand up and noticed that someone, or something, was standing in front of me. I attempted to speak, but when I did, all that came out was a strange groaning noise. What was wrong with me?

Suddenly I felt myself being hoisted to my feet. As my feet regained their ground, I looked to find my helper. To my unfortunate surprise, it was a very large African American woman. And when I say very large, I mean that she could very well have eaten everyone in this room and still have an appetite for dessert.

"There, there now, honey. You're going to be alright. Momma Jasmine's got you."

Momma? She doesn't even know me and the second sentence out of her mouth, she speaks in motherly tones? I really had to get out of here, but with each step I attempted to take, my body wobbled uncontrollably. I staggered once more and fell face first into her large breasts. I grabbed her shirt to regain my balance and stand, but it began to rip.

"Whoa there! If you wanted some, you could've just asked."

At the thought of this, I pulled back and began to vomit violently on her chest. After a solid minute of hacking, I calmed back down. She, however, didn't seem a bit fazed by the fact that yellowish chunks were now dripping off of her shirt and chest.

"That's alright, baby. We can just use that as lube. Now, you come with me, sexy..."

I attempted to resist, but began to feel myself fade out. What was wrong with me? This didn't feel like a typical high. Something was very, very wrong. I again tried to speak, but only gurgled. I was going to fall into this woman's vagina and die. Why didn't I just stick it in the hooker in the back? The images of the club began to fade to nothing. Darkness fell over me, and my night, for the time being, was over.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Get Your Fix
Date/Time Unknown

"It's incredible how arrogance can lead men astray, and take them away from the path of true glory and success. It's also quite ironic in a way, because the true basis of arrogance lies in the fact that you are lifting yourself up above others in some obscene way. The irony plays in that it most usually ends in the downfall of the arrogant person. So ultimately arrogance never truly pays off. Rather, hard work, dedication, motivation, and talent are the keys to success. And just think of all the useless energy you waste on the premise of false self confidence? It's completely ridiculous. Could somebody wake Livewire up and give him that memo for me? I'd greatly appreciate it."

"This week, I'll witness no shortage of arrogance. First and foremost, I still need to qualify to compete in the main event for the Adrenaline Championship. So, in turn, the put me against Sean 'I talk a big game, but still haven't faced anyone worth a damn' Mason. Let me start off by introducing myself to you, Mr. Mason. My name is Seth Daniels. Not Dryden. We're in Adrenaline Wrestling now, not F1X. Thank you, glad you could join us finally. So I just have to ask, why were you so surprised that I was able to withstand the high flying offense of Evan Matthews? Let me assure you that when I say that I can, and will, pull out a victory, you can put safe money up on that. No, that's not just meaningless arrogance. Rather, it's a well educated prediction. While I've been on a roll, from F1X over here to AW, I remain grounded. I'm still motivated to succeed, and I stay hungry. Hungry for glory. Hungry for honor. And hungry to lift up all of the people around the world who are continuously put down by the likes of people like you. Unnecessarily arrogant, even when you know it's going to backfire. Completely lost in the senseless self serving logic that you feel will serve you well. Newsflash, Sean. You're over-rated."

"You have been on record as saying that your drive is at an all time high. However, your follow-up reasoning has to be the most ridiculous reason anyone would want to be motivated. It's been a few years since you've held gold, has it? I have never held gold. How hungry do you imagine that makes me? Now, let me go ahead and stop you from making the same critical mistakes as my previous competition. I very much understand that you have years and years of experience, whereas I have a few months. I get that. Everyone else gets that. What I don't get is why those before you tried to hold it up like a fucking banner in attempts to convince everyone that they were capable of beating me. Most rookies have a hard time adjusting to their environment. Me? I did it with ease. When you put yourself in questionable situations in life, and your only ticket out is to bash your way through, you begin to learn how to survive. Unfortunately for you, I don't feel you have that extra gear of survival. One day, you'll die out. Who's to say that day isn't Sunday? If there's one thing you can count on, Mason, it's this. It will probably be another few years yet until you hold any of the straps here. The only belt you'll wear is the one that holds up your jeans."

"Seriously, Sean. Let me talk to you for a minute. I understand that you're going to feel like I stepped on your toes in everything I say. Let me assure you that I mean nothing by it. I'm not trying to upset you, nor am I attempting to condescend to you in any way. My intentions are to make you understand that, despite the belief you have in yourself, you're not the hype you believe yourself to be. I don't want you to enter into Road to Hell with false hopes that maybe you could be the next Adrenaline Champion. If you don't keep your goals realistic, you'll lose that 'all time high' motivation and resort back to the world of retirement. Despite what I can say as your opponent, as a fellow competitor, I don't want you to have to quit because you quickly realize that you don't quite have what it takes to have your name in the lights and to be listed as one of AW's elite. No, I want you to stick around because I enjoy rooting for the underdog. Maybe if you went toe to toe with the Mayhem Champion, you could have your glory back. As it stands, you can't stack up to the likes of Shirlea Frost, to Dustin Reeves, to Ethan Doherty, to Felicia Durante. This is the next level, a place you don't belong. Fall back, fall out, and try to reach a shorter bar. This one's a little too crowded for you."

"Should I make it to the finals of this epic tournament, this will be the biggest match of my career. And with the competition that could meet me there, I know that it's going to feel a lot like it as well. With top tier talent such as Dustin Reeves and Shirlea Frost, I know that the only way I can end this night undefeated is if I earn it. I'll have plenty of work to do. Not to mention the outstanding talent of newcomer Ethan Doherty, as well as the ever-talented Felicia Durante. Granted, she may be allied with Livewire, but that doesn't take away from her extraordinary abilities. The Superstar. The Ice Queen. The Femme Fatale. The Insignificant Truth. They all will feel their Drug of Choice running through their veins. They all get the opportunity to experience a high the likes of which they're never felt before. The thing is, when each and every one of them crash down and their sweat begins to run cold, will they have enough to pull through and mark the biggest achievement of their careers?"

"I plan to make damn sure that they won't."

End.