Cheap seats lined the stadium row-to-row, shrouded in complete darkness. A large wrestling ring stands as the center of attention, illuminated by bright lights hanging above. I pay no mind to the repeated sounds of crunching beneath my feet as I blindly made my way to the wrestling ring, stepping on trash and various empty bags of food on the floor. A large sign lay across one of the seats, picturing a masked man I had never seen before. I climbed up into the wrestling ring and rolled into the center, staring blindly into the large ceiling lights.
A faint sound began to play, unintelligible at first, but slowly becoming increasingly louder: “Booyaka, Booyaka, 6-1-9,” is the only thing I could decipher. I was suddenly startled as loud fireworks erupted from across the stadium, blue lights flashing and bringing the once-invisible seats into view. Someone began running down the walkway to the ring, flying over the ropes and landing without faltering. Without hesitation, the masked man grabbed me and placed me around the ropes on the edge of the ring as he swung around, hitting me straight in the face.
Tears began to run down my cheeks as he continued, the sound of cracking bones not fazing him. I laid down on the ring, once a pure white and now stained a dark red, with the masked man looking before me with an emotion I could only describe as a type of stunned sympathy, as if he was truly unaware of the damage he had caused. He slowly climbed out of the ring and walked away until he was no longer visible, the lights dimming to only illuminate the ring once again…
