North board, roleplay 22

Lost In L.A.
June 2, 2002

The night sky overhead was a nice sight for the eye. The dark ominous clouds swooping across the globe was accompanied by the radiant lights that sparkled and glimmered each and every night in this huge city. "Los Angeles," muttering as he walked down the sidewalk, King was overwhelmed by how teeming and congested this section of the city could get.

Los Angeles was a city full of excitement and life. Many teens were just out tonight looking to enjoy their summer away from school, while there were many others who were still out tonight celebrating the news of their beloved Lakers gallant triumph over the Kings another breath-taking pivotal contest.

King let out a weary sigh as he finally neared his destination - the Westin Bonaventure hotel. He had gone through a long and tedious flight and needed his rest. Over these past few weeks, King had high anticipated the tournament - he didn’t anticipate a huge city like Los Angeles to be this lively though.

Tomorrow was assured to be another big day for this untamable city. Los Angeles has held many huge events in the past, but never has an event like the Wrestling God tournament made it's way through this huge city. The tourney was but a day away - an event that wrestling fans of all ages and sizes have awaited and highly anticipated. 64 men will take part in one huge event. 32 will move on and their 32 counterparts will make a quick and swift exit. Than as the tourney progresses, the number will fall down from 32 to 16, than 8, than 4, than 2, and finally down to the only number that really matters, 1.

To no one's surprise, not even his own, King was already labeled the underdog in the first round. Last week brackets for the 64 man Wrestling God Tournament was released and King won the honor of grappling with the man whom many were quick to label "the fWo superstar", Eli Flair. Even before the brackets and pairings for the event were released, Flair was already foreshadowed to run rampant through this entire tournament and have his name go down with Johnny Mayhem and Michael Trey in the history of the ever-so controversial tournament.

Maybe King will have a say in those predictions though...

Everywhere he looked and turned he seemed to find himself deeper within the city. And the deeper he got, the more lost he felt. He continued to wander through the city. He felt blind. Each time he stopped to look around, all he saw was the same things over and over. Sparkling lights, catchy signs, cars, and endless roads.

Than he heard a giggle...

"Let me guess, you're lost. Hehehe," King turned around and was greeted by a voice from the dimly lit gloomy alleyway. Taking a closer look he made the figure out to be a man in his middle ages, homeless, dirty, and poor. "Am I right? I am.. aren't I?" The man giggled again, rubbing snot from his nose and wiped it onto his old coat - sniffing mucus back inside his nostrils - as stood up from his position against the rigid brick wall. He could smell the foul odor of urine and waste coming from the alley, but King wasn't one to discriminate or judge.

He knew how it feels - he was once in that very same position.

"Yea... I am, can you help me?"

His giggled was follow by another stifling snuffle. Clearly, the man was sick. "Heh, yea I can help you. For a price.. yea for a price," another cackle escaped from the deranged man as he began to approach King.

"Okay, that's fine. Do you know where, um... have you heard of the Westin Bon-aven-ture hotel is at?"

"Heheheh, yea sure do," the man's pattern of giggles continued as he answered King's question. His stomach growled furiously beleaguering him with an well-accustomed stomachache. Rubbing his stomach as he looked around the streets of Los Angeles - taking in his surroundings. "Hmmm," slowly he raised up his left hand from his stomach's frame and steadily pointed across the street where a miniature sign hidden from the untrained eye read "the Westin Bonaventure."

Giggle.

King looked closely towards the miniscule sign and finally made out the small letters. "Thank you," he said as he began to reach within the contents of his pocket. "Here you go man, get yourself some food and clothes," the man giggled again graciously as he accepted his pay.

As he made his way across the street, King let out a relieved sigh. He was both happy to be away from the deranged man and at his destination. "Good luck tomorrow! Heheheh," King turned around to see the man waving at him with the wad of money in his hand. He was standing recklessly in the middle of the street having endless rows of cars trailed by him - a few nearly making contact with him.

Huh..?

Obviously there was something very odd and peculiar about the man but King didn't have the time nor desire to soothe his curiosity. As he entered the hotel, a sense of reassurance overcame his body as a young bellhop greeted him at the entrance.

"Hey.. excuse me sir. Are you Alec King?"

"Yes, that is me," King quickly answered as he lifted up his hood and showed the man proof of his identity. He was handed a key towards his second floor room. King had no material items with him - his luggage from the airport was filled with nothing but clothing. King intended to be here, in Los Angeles, for the long run. He wasn’t here to have fun, he was here to compete and win. The tourney was all but here now, tomorrow was the big day and if King wanted to be here after tomorrow he would have to clear his mind of everything else but winning.