The Nightstorm (WWE OC story)

BreakDown

As I stood backstage, preparing for my rematch against Kofi Kingston, a mixture of excitement and unease swirled within me. I couldn't help but reflect on the recent events, particularly my involvement with Dolph Ziggler and the choices I had made in order to help him. Despite the doubts that nagged at the back of my mind, I couldn't deny the admiration I still held for Ziggler, a friend who had guided me in my early days as a wrestler.

The admiration I held for Ziggler was undeniable, a friend who had guided me through the early days of my wrestling career in WWE. Without his guidance, I would be lost. Moreover, he made a great relationship with Big E, I must admit that he has been a great help in multiple occasions.

However, the time had come for me to step into the spotlight, defending my title. It was a moment of truth, a chance to showcase my abilities to the world and, most importantly, to Ziggler himself. The weight of expectation rested upon my shoulders, driving me to prove my worth and demonstrate the extent of my capabilities.

Before making my way to the ring, I decided to seek out Kingston. I wanted to address any lingering tension between us and perhaps find some common ground. As I approached him, I could sense a hint of annoyance in his expression.

"It surprises me that you are now suddenly acting so friendly like this," he said, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely curious about his perspective.

He sighed, his gaze fixed on me with a serious intensity. "You've been attacking certain people randomly. It's not like you, Ángel. You were the one who ended my time as the United States Champion, and now you're mixed up with Ziggler and his questionable methods, now you act like a monster."

I felt a pang of guilt and a need to explain myself. "About that, Kofi, please understand that it's not about attacking people for no reason. Ziggler has told me that some individuals have been aggressive towards him, and I don't want to stand by and let that happen. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to protect a friend."

Kofi's expression softened slightly, but a trace of concern lingered in his eyes. "Maybe I was wrong about you. Perhaps you don't have bad intentions. But, Ángel, you're so innocent, almost naive. That innocence makes you vulnerable to manipulation by those who are sly enough."

His words struck a nerve, and I felt a lump form in my throat. It was as if he had unveiled a hidden truth I didn't want to confront. "No... You're wrong. Ziggler would never do something like that to me," I replied, my voice trembling with a mix of defensiveness and uncertainty.

Kofi sighed, his tone softer now. "I hope you're right, Ángel. But just be careful. Wrestling can be a ruthless world, and not everyone has the best intentions. Trust your instincts and remember who you are."

His words lingered in the air as I processed them. A part of me wanted to believe in Ziggler's sincerity, but another part recognized the valid concerns raised by Kofi. As I left him to prepare for our match, I couldn't shake the nagging doubt that had taken root in my mind.

Little did I know that this encounter with Kofi would be a catalyst for a deeper exploration of my own identity and the consequences of the choices I had made. The ring awaited, and I would have to face Kofi Kingston not only as an opponent but as someone who had questioned my integrity.

However, the words exchanged between us had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within me. Instead of feeling nervous anticipation, a wave of sadness and distress washed over my being, clouding my thoughts and dampening my spirit.

With a heavy heart, I embarked on my entrance, the spotlight shining upon me. The weight of my inner turmoil was evident for all to see. The lines etched upon my face, the heaviness in my every step, it was impossible to hide my emotional state. Even the ring announcer noticed the visible strain upon my countenance, his voice carrying a subtle tone of concern as they introduced my presence to the crowd. And as I made my way to the ring, I couldn't help but notice the worried looks on the faces of the spectators. 

The time for introspection would have to wait, for now, the sound of the bell beckoned, demanding my full focus and determination. Kofi unleashed a barrage of kicks, each one landing with increasing intensity. 

The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil swirling inside me. The thoughts of being manipulated by Ziggler left me feeling vulnerable, aching deep within. Despite Kofi's relentless assault, a flicker of determination kept me going.

In a moment of desperation, I countered his attack, sending him crashing to the mat. Drawing upon my resilience, I ascended to the corner, launching myself into a breathtaking Front Flip DDT. With the crowd on their feet, I climbed the ropes once more, executing a perfect Moonsault.

The referee's hand struck the mat. 

1... 

2... 

3...

I had emerged victorious, but the triumph meant nothing to me. My mind was consumed by the words Kofi had spoken, and the weight of my vulnerability bore down on me. Though I had won the title, it held no significance compared to the respect I had for Kofi. In a gesture of admiration, I extended my hand to help him up and share a moment of sportsmanship.

But Kofi's response shattered me. His angry gaze pierced into my soul as he forcefully pushed me away. The rejection stung, piercing through the armor I had tried to maintain. Tears welled up in my eyes, an outpouring of sadness that I could no longer contain. The discomfort in the air was palpable, but I was too consumed by my own pain to care.

In that moment, the cheers and applause of the crowd faded into the background. All that remained was the overwhelming sadness that enveloped me.

 I made my way back to the locker room, seeking solace in the solitude. Little did I know that danger lurked in the shadows. A sudden blow struck me from behind, sending me crashing to the floor. Dazed and disoriented, I struggled to identify who it was, their identity hidden in the darkness. A voice whispered menacingly in my ear, "Don't think we didn't notice what you did to Orton. That's for involving yourself in things that are not your business"

My consciousness faded, and the next thing I knew, I awoke in a sterile hospital room. The passing of two days had slipped away unnoticed. But amidst the sorrow, a fierce determination sparked within. I needed answers, I needed justice. I yearned to uncover the truth behind the attack.

A member of the security team approached, offering an explanation for the assault. It was none other than The Shield. Their attack was a brutal reminder that no actions go unnoticed in the unforgiving world of professional wrestling. With newfound resolve, I made up my mind—I would confront The Shield on SmackDown and take a stand against their injustice.