A/N: I wanted to write for Christian, and so I went with this idea. Hope you all enjoy! I own no one, Vince McMahon does.
Jason Reso stood in his locker room, his hands wrapped loosely around the ECW champion belt. He stared at the reflection of the belt in the mirror, the shining of the metal as the light bounced off of it. He sighed lightly, looking up at his face in the mirror. He was alone, completely alone. He had no one by his side, only himself and his belt. He longed for the feeling of a friend again, hell, he longed for Adam to come back. He stared at his reflection once more, remembering back to the old days. The old days, is that what they were now? He frowned faintly, and turned from the mirror, tired of it all. Tonight things would change, whether it was for the better or not, Jason wasn't positive.
He walked to the ring in silence, his belt secured tightly around his waist. He kept his gaze forward as he passed the others, refusing to speak a word to anyone. He stopped at gorilla position and waited, listening to the roar of the crowd just outside of the curtain. He stepped out to his music, doing his regular entrance, a fake smile on his lips. He stood in the ring as his opponent came out. The Moscow Mauler, they called him. Vladimir Kozlov was his name. Jason had gone through many nights of pain that was inflicted by the man that stepped into the ring across from him.
The bell tolled in the distance, and Jason began to fight, urging his aching body to continue on. He fought his heart out, giving his fans, his peeps, the show they begged for every night. In the end, he managed to snag a victory over him, but the victory was small lived. He was overlooked, Jason was sure of that. ECW was going down rapidly, and even he, the ECW champion, couldn't keep it from happening. He walked into the back, his body aching as he walked, keeping his head down. He slipped into his locker room without a word to the others, and changed into his regular clothes. He left the locker room silently, heading for the back door. The desire to slip out the back and disappear into the dark was strong, but he was stopped short by Tiffany, the general manager.
"Hey there Jason just thought I'd inform you. You'll have a match with Benjamin before the pay-per-view to give the fans a taste of what you two will be like on Sunday, good luck!" she said before leaving him. Her words stayed in his head as he walked, echoing throughout his mind. Sunday would be the day he would have to clamber up a ladder and pull down the belt, his belt. He had to once again defend his championship reign, a reign that was only four or so months old. He climbed into his car and sat there, staring out the window. He was going to lose, he knew he was. Sure the decision hadn't been made yet for the storyline, but he knew it was going to work over that way. They wanted the new talent to hold the belts, not someone that had been around the block a time or two.
The roar of the engine broke his silence, but it didn't matter to him. It was just a dull sound in the background as he drove back to the hotel. He went to his room in silence, not even noticing his peeps as they crowded around him, each of them begging for an autograph or photograph. He collapsed onto his bed that evening, and drifted off to sleep to the sound pattering of rain outside of his window.
That's how his life was now, he realized as the days wore on. The pay-per-view loomed in the horizon, and Jason found himself growing more and more eager for it to just be over with. He had sat through a meeting with Tiffany, and found that he was indeed going to lose his belt. He didn't know how to let that affect him. Tiffany tried to make him see it for the best, but Jason refused. Even when he was told he would taken over to Smackdown as part of their roster. He knew if it had been years ago, he would have been overjoyed for the change, but now, he didn't really care. They didn't need to bother trying to make him happy, it would continue to slip into his state of mind, until someone saved him.
