It was one of those days.  Sleep in until 2:00pm roll out of bed ever so slowly, your head pounding, your face unshaven.  You are wearing the clothes from the night before, and you don't remember a single thing...

Well except for the two blonds lying in your bed.

Troy gives a sly smile as he sits at the edge of his hotel room bed, rubbing his temples in hopes to rid himself of his oh so aching head.  He remembers parts of the night prior, but only the parts that really mattered to him.

Sex and alcohol, never has there been a better fucking way to live.

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly, not wanting to wake the blond beauties that are still currently asleep.  He looks to them and nods his head.

Troy, baby, you hit the jack pot.  Never in a million years would that pussy Marcus ever have gotten a blond like Christy in bed... let alone two blonds like Christy and Missy.

He pauses for a moment and scratches the bottom of his chin.

Fuckin' blondes and their porno names.  Go figure I'd find them here in Crystal Lake right?

One of the blondes stirs a bit now, whether it's Christy or Missy is unknown.  She opens her eyes and looks to Troy with a very cute smile on her face.  She goes to speak, but he shakes his head.

I know darlin, the best night you ever had, and not to mention the best sex, right?

She gives a slight giggle and winks.

You bet baby...  Who would have thought you could fuck like that!

The other blonde is now up as well, chiming right into the conversation.

Yeah, we's seen you on the National Independent and I never would have thought that such a good natured boy like yourself would be able to perform like you did last night, Marcus.

He was all smiles until that point.  He looks at the two girls with a stern face.

The fuck did you just say?

Slightly confused the two blondes look at each other and then the one who spoke earlier speaks up again.

What's wrong, you don't like being called Marcus, honey?

He shakes his head with frustration and goes about the room picking up the girls' clothing. He whips it at them and stomps his foot in anger.

But your shit on, and get the hell out of my room!

He points to the door and the girls, suddenly filled with fear, quickly put their clothes back on and rush for the door... as they head out he shouts after them.

You're amazing sex was courtesy of Troy!  Not that fucking pipsqueak Marcus!  You remember that you stupid bitches!!

He walks up to the door and slams it shut.  He then turns around and kicks the side of the wall, leaving a small dent in it.

When will they realize?  I'm the talented part of this body, I'm the fucking main event every night for this body.  I'm better in the ring, I'm better in the bed, and I'm the life of every fucking party this stupid ass city has to offer.  What did Marcus do?  Win a match or two, that's that.  Now he's done with, and I'm the guy in charge.  Sooner or later these assholes will be singing praises to the name Troy.  And it starts this afternoon, and by the time After Dark has come and gone, Troy will be the name on everyone's lips...

He gives a cocky smirk as he walks over to the small table located further back in the room.

And some lucky girl is going to be able to have Troy's lips on her lips.. and any other part of her body she desires..

He thinks of that moment, but shakes it off as he heads for the table, and more specifically the phone that is on top of it.

Business before pleasure though... right now anyway.  Gotta make a phone call, get dressed, and all that jazz before an impromptu business meeting.

He takes a seat and dials up a number of some sort.  He waits a moment (more like 10 minutes before he finally gets a human response.)

Finally.. I really fucking hate those... who am I?  This is Troy, put Jeff Hansen on the phone please.

He pauses, his facial expression says it all, "What the hell do you mean?"

What the hell do you mean he can't talk to me.  I'm one of his top fucking superstars and he can't talk to me.  Bet if I said this was Marcus he'd talk to me.. right?

He pauses again.

Oh, he couldn't even talk to Marcus... can't talk to no one?  Well shit, what the hell is so important...

Again he is cut off in his words, listening to the other end.

What the fuck?!  You're serious?  Shit that's impressive.

He nods his head a bit, listening..

Sure, yeah whatever.  Alright, just leave him a fucking message then.  Get a pen and some paper and jot this shit down, alright?  Tell Jeff, that Troy is going to be at After Dark, regardless of the fact that he ain't booked.  Tell him I'm going to make Troy the main event name whether he likes it or not.  Got it?

Good.

The person on the other end of the phone tries to same something more, but Troy just hangs up.  He looks around the hotel room, taking notice to the mess made from last night, and earlier this morning.

Shit I'm one hell of a tiger in the sack.

He chuckles and begins to get dressed, putting on a pair of torn jeans and a dark green Wife Beater.  He grabs the key to his room and pockets it in his jeans.  He then grabs his leather jacket from off the ground, brushes it off a bit and tosses it over his shoulder.  He heads out of the hotel room and down into the lobby.  There he approaches the front desk.

Messages or mail for Troy?

The man looks at him and then at the records.  He shakes his head no.  Troy sighs and hesitates before speaking up again.

What about... Marcus?

Once again the man checks through his computerized files, and nods his head yes.  He turns behind him and pulls two letters out of a slot labeled Marcus P. Donaldson.  Troy grabs the letters and walks out of the hotel.  He looks at one and smirks.

Junk... Marcus always gets junk.

He tosses it into a nearby trashcan, and continues walking.  As he looks at the other letter he stops walking and just stares at it for a moment.

No fucking way!

His eyes are wide with shock, he seems angry but not angry enough to dispose of the letter. He slides it in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, puts the jacket on and walks off down the road.  In the near distance he sees what is left of the bar he was told about on the phone.  He looks at it and shakes his head in disbelief.  Some smoke still trails from the burnt down bar... but not much.

Chris Turner, that son of a bitch.  He's got it all figured out.  Nobody fucks with him because they are so fucking scared.  Why the hell did Marcus have to decide on being the nice guy.  Screwed my chances up pretty bad, guess I'll just have to make up for lost time...

He looks at the remains of the bar and chuckles slightly.

But first I gotta find me a new place to drink at.  Damn...

He walks off down the road, opposite the burned down bar.  In search again for alcohol and women who want nothing but sex.

And With that Ends:

"Troy's Mission: Part 1"