Seventeen stitches.

Not one, but two black eyes.

Close to a pint and a half of blood lost.

A small stress crack in his right hand.

Three scrupulous hair treatments, with three more planned over the coming week.

A massive black and blue spot covering seventy percent of his body.

Broken.

Battered.

Bloodied.

And...

NEW.

DEFIANCE.

WORLD.

CHAMPION.

Cancer. Jiles.

Top of the world.

-----

[No boof.]

[No press conference.]

[No public.]

[Just COOL.]

Oh, how you have eluded me.

No more.

Those days are gone... like memories on the wall.

Now, like the shades on my face, you’re all mine.

[You’d think Cancer Jiles would be out on a mountaintop screaming that he’s won the World Title. OFF OF HIS greatest rival, Jeff Andrews -- at Jeff’s Pay Per View, Untouchable.]

[Normally, you’d be right.]

[However, since his bones are still far worse for the wear, Count COOL has decided to take residency atop a plush sofa instead. His legs are stretched to their furthermost reach, and his arms are snugly crossed atop his chest. A custom pillow props his head and not so styled hairdo up, and he’s got a fancy looking, hosptial issue ice-pack wrapped around his neck.

[Topless and T-shaded, he lounges with only a black pair of Nike swoosh pants and numerous white bandages to keep his naturally COOL self warm.]

[Well, that, and Defiance World Title of course.]

Don’t you worry... you’ll never go cold when in my grasp.

I will do you justice, always.

I will not let you down, ever.

I will not try to make a bong out of you, maybe.

Proudly, I will show the world what it means to have EARNED the title of Champion, for you.

[The oath of the Defiant.]

Rest now, you’re finally home.

zzzzzzzZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...........................

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