April 19th in a parallel world, as days go, nothing particularly strange or impossible happened on April 19th in history, but that was about to change. El Nombre lay on the canvas in the GTWF arena, still blood stained from when the demonic Overkill laid waste to the entire roster and more He gets to his feet, his head pounding and his fists and body aching after going a few rounds with Overkill himself. He steadies himself on the ropes, holding his head, its quite dimly lit in the arena, its fallen into disrepair, with no superstars and no money being generated its gone bust and does not do business anymore
Nombre drops down and rolls out of the ring, climbing up the ramp, avoiding the damaged and unstable looking areas before getting backstage, he is still not with it, having been thrown from one universe to another, hes not thinking straight, part of him still getting used to the silence after the thousands of people cheering just moment ago Nombre gets to the backdoor of the arena and pushes it open, its the middle of the day, there are flocks of people in the streets looking up at the sky, something glows, shimmering in the air high, high above them in the atmosphere. Nombre doesnt take notice of them and staggers his way across the parking lot and over the road into the hotel, the hotel where hes been living his life for a few months. He doesnt have time for talking to anyone, hes weary, tired and badly beaten up, he just wants to rest.
Nombre drops through the door to his hotel room, he lies on the floor panting and holding his ribs, he rolls onto his back and kicks the door shut, the windows are open, he can hear the hustle and bustle of the city below, he slowly drags himself over to the window and closes it. He slumps down on the bed and closes his eyes
Its over .its all over
The last words Nombre gasps before he loses consciousness, possibly to do with the pain, possibly due to exhaustion, but Nombres not even out of the frying pan yet