>>18832077The arena lights had dimmed to a deep, bruising purple. The roar of the crowd was a distant memory, a ghost in the empty stands. Backstage, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, ambition, and something else… something charged and anticipatory.
Swerve Strickland leaned against the cool concrete of the wall, a towel around his neck, his chest still heaving. The gold gleamed not just on the championship belt slung over his shoulder, but in his eyes. He’d done it. He’d climbed the mountain.
A shadow fell over him. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The presence was familiar, a rival whose every move was etched into his muscle memory.
“Quite a performance out there,” Kevin Nash’s voice rumbled, a low timbre that vibrated in the narrow hallway. He stood, all seven feet of him, blocking the exit, but making no move to leave. “You left it all in the ring.”
“Had to,” Swerve said, finally meeting his gaze. A slow, knowing smile played on his lips. “Nothing but the main event caliber effort for a night like this.”
Nash’s eyes, sharp and assessing, dropped to the championship belt. “A title like that… it deserves a proper celebration. A private one. The public display was just the opening act.”
Swerve pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them. The space crackled. “I was thinking the same thing. All that talk leading up to this… all that tension. It’d be a shame to let it just… fade out.”
“Talk’s over,” Nash stated, his voice dropping to a whisper that was felt more than heard. “The real main event starts when the world isn’t watching. You think you’ve got the stamina for an encore? One with… no rules?”
