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Date Posted: 23:09:18 04/08/02 Mon
Author: Haseem Nasser Ali
Subject: Coping with failure. ( Again, nothing fancy. Just words! )

Sunday, April 07, 2002.

{Fuck...it happened again. Only this time it stings just a little bit more. I want to scream...but I
think he broke my jaw. It hurts. Everything hurts. I really want to scream.....I want to cry.... I
want to tear this whole fucking building down with my bare hands...but I can't. I'm too tired....and
weak. I could use a shower...maybe some sleep....but I'd rather have a beer. Where's that damn
box? I didn't open it yet...the alcohol is probably warm. I don't care. I'll drink it fast...then
forget.....everything.}

[ Alone, Haseem Nasser Ali sat broken within the painted brick walls of his personal dressing
room. The GWA's presentation of Vendetta had ended nearly an hour ago, yet he
remained...shattered and swollen. His tightened muscles sent waves of discomfort through his
beaten frame, yet he ignored the pain. Tilting back his blood stained face, the young warrior
sucked down a mouthful of warm yet utterly refreshing alcohol. The liquid flowed effortlessly
down the man's throat and into his stomach. The taste was calming...like the soft touch of a
woman's lips. Slowly, chunks of Ali's memory began to fade. No longer could he remember the
exact details of his battle with Nikki Silver, or the events which took place afterwards. It was all a
blur. Closing his eyes, Ali sunk back in his chair. He liked the way the rough, leather felt against
his naked skin. It made him feel warm, and protected...like he was back in the comfort of his
home in Miami. Like a hawk spoting his prey, Ali's dark brown eyes drifted down towards the
crate of alcohol that had been delivered to him before his match. Forgetting how he had come to
own such a thoughtful gift, Ali scooped up another tepid bottle of hopps and barley. It was the
last of the bunch, but Ali did not seem to notice. The pain which had once gripped his very soul
had now waned to a mear throbbing in his neck.

Slowly, Haseem's bloodshot gaze began painting the room. He wasn't exactly sure what he was
looking for, but when he did finally come across it, he would know. The stentch of liquer now had
a powerful grasp upon Ali's breath. He could feel the numbing effects of the liquid taking hold of
his body, and he liked it. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, he could not fully appreciate this
euphoric experience. Maybe it was just the booze playing tricks on him, but Ali felt a part of him
was missing. He felt the need for something more than a bottle, and a comfortable chair.
Something wasn't right. Ali violently shook the thought from his head. Was he having, what most
alcoholics like to call, "a moment of clarity"? A drunken chuckle slipped through Ali's cracked lips
as he pondered the ridicules notion. Shrugging his bare shoulders, Haseem staggared to his feet.
He had to use the restroom, and he had to use it quick. Clumsily, the young man wandered
approximately five feet away from his original position before his legs gave out from under him.
With a low, deep throated grunt, Ali hit the floor. It was about this time that the world began
rotating at the speed of light. Ali could feel the warm chunks of vomit floating steadily up his
throat. Haseem tried in vain to swallow the acidic juices, but he was too late. Seconds later,
Haseem was laying in a pool of his own retch. Closing his eyes, Ali was able to roll himself over
so that his stomach was facing the ceiling. It was getting late and despite his drunken state, he
knew someone would be in soon to escort him out of the building, but until then, he was staying
put. At least he thought he was.

Soft, like a floating melody, the woman’s voice swept gently through the stale, dead air. Her
words struck the half unconcious Haseem like a fist in the jaw. His dark brown eyes fluttered
open, frantically scouring the room for any sign of it’s master. Gradually, he began to sit up. Ali
blinked his eyes as he tried to adjust his vision, it worked. Haseem was now staring directly into
the face of CTN reporter, Cleo Camacho. Instantly his spirit was lifted. Cleo shook her head in
disgust as she looked down at the drunken bastard beneath her. With a sigh, she spoke yet again. ]

Cleo: Come on Haseem...get up. I’m here to take you back to the hotel.

[ In a drunken haze, Ali mumbled back. ]

Ali: I don’ wanna go.

[ Cleo simply rolled her eyes and took the wrestler by his hand and began to pull. Eventually, with
the help of Ms. Camacho, Haseem was able to climb to his feet once again. Cleo had little trouble
holding his small frame in place, however, the smell of his breath was a different story. Inhaling as
much oxygen as she possibly could, Cleo held her breath as she dragged Ali out of the building.
Eventually she reached her car and was able to sling the young falconer into the passenger seat.
Jumping into the other side, Cleo started her car and began driving towards the hotel where they
had stayed at the night before. The two had shared seperate rooms of course, but still she could
not seem to shake him all night. He kept hanging out by her door asking if he could come in and
have a few drinks with her. Eventually she agreed. Everything was going smooth in the beginning,
the two discussed his upcoming match with Silver, and how he thought he could win. Eventually,
however, he asked her for sex and she had to kick him out. Even still, she could see that deep
down he was only trying to push her buttons. Although, she doubted he would have turned it
down if she would had offered to give it up. It was then that Cleo began to think, that maybe this
little arrogant punk, wasn’t all that bad after all. Looking out her windshield, Cleo smiled. It was
then that she heard his voice drift up from the passenger’s seat. It was faint, but still audable. ]

Ali: Cleo?

[ Still keeping her eye on the road, Cleo responded. ]

Cleo: Yeah? Do you need me to pull over?

[ Ali shook his head, although she couldn’t see it. ]

Ali: What happened tonight?

[ These words tore through Cleo’s chest, but she knew she had to remind him. Maybe the truth
would sober him up, who knows? ]

Cleo: You lost to Nikki.

Ali: Fuck...

[ Cleo couldn’t help but smile at the man’s reply. ]

Cleo: And you were jumped by three goons calling themselves the Foundation of Sensation. They
hurt you pretty bad.

[ A peaceful looked washed over Ali’s features. He now remembered what had taken place earlier
that night...although he wasn’t sure he wanted to. ]

Ali: What’s next?

[ Cleo glanced over at Haseem, a bit puzzled. ]

Cleo: What next? Well, I’m going to get you back to the hotel and clean you up...then..

[ Ali quickly cut her off, then stated the question a bit more clearly. ]

Ali: No, I mean what’s next for me?

Cleo: I don’t know.

[ Cleo answered solemnly. ]

Cleo: I suppose that’s up to you.

[ Ali stayed silent for a brief moment, thinking over those last words. ]

Ali: I think I’ll get back up and fight. That’s what my aunt would want me to do. I’m not
weak....I won’t stay down. I won’t stay down......I will fight. Foundation of Sensation.....I won’t
stay down for you. I will fight.....I have to fight. They will feel pain....all of them....I will bring it
to them, and they will eat if from my hands like the dogs they are. I am superior.......I will not fall
down. I will not fall for them. I will fight them...I am Circle....they are dogs. They will fall....I will
stand...I am Circle....I am....circle.....

[ Drifting away into a drunken slumber, Ali was silenced. Hearing those last few words emenate
from Haseem’s mouth brought a smile to Cleo’s features. She had thought that maybe he was
done for. That another loss to Nikki Silver would push him over the edge, however it appeared as
though he was stronger than she had thought. Maybe, there was some truth hiding within those
slurred grumblings...maybe he was more determined to prove himself than ever. Of course, there
was always the possibility that he was just talking through the bottle. In that case, it was anyone’s
guess what he would do. How would he react when he was sober? She could only hope that it
was similiar to the way he did tonight. Deep down, she thought he would...he was an ambitious
little prick, she knew that. Maybe this was the motivation that he needed to really bust out.
Maybe, in the long run....Nikki did Haseem a favor by kicking his ass...he just didn’t realize
it...yet. ]

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