Crossroads of awkwardness
Dec 2, 2018 23:56:54 GMT -5
Alex Richards, Bonnie Blue, and 1 more like this
Post by Matt Draven on Dec 2, 2018 23:56:54 GMT -5
Osaka Preectural Gymnasium
Namba, Osaka, Japan
11 Months Ago
Pain reverberates throughout my entire being as I lay there upon the bloodstained canvas of the ring. My own blood only further staining it's already disgustingly crimson coloring. How had it come to this? We used to be friends! We used to be brothers! FAMILY! SO how? How had it come to this where each was trying to gut the other? I still don't understand! I don't want to understand! I cannot quell the desire to understand!
Doing the best I can to block out the pain, I roll my exhausted carcass over and crawl to the ropes that I am barely able to see through the blood that covers my face. My body. Inch by agonizing ich I crawl, still haunted by everything that has been down between the two of us. Not just in this moment, but over the last several years. Had the last couple of years been nothing but lies? Were we ever truly brothers? Had he simply been using me in order to complete his own selfish goal?
With my mind continuously flooded with an endless torrent of emotions, I manage to drag my ever weakening body over to the bottom rope. However, before I can go any further, I am grabbed by my hair and hoisted up to my feet where I once again am forced to stare into the face of the man that betrayed us. That betrayed me!
"THIS THE BEST YA GOT MATT? HUH? IS THIS THE BEST THAT HER DEVIL CAN DO? PATHETIC! YOU'RE FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Pathetic? Is that what I am to him? Was I always that in his eyes for the last two years? Pathetic? PATHETIC! For a reason that I'll never understand that is the one thing that ignites a fire so....so....undescribile that it takes control of my exhausted and broken body.
With new found vigor pumping through my veins, I slap his hands away and catch him underneath the point of his treacherous chin with Honorbound! Stunned, but not off of his feet, my former brother staggers back. However, I am nowhere near done! Fueled by the wonderfully enigmatic fire within me I charge forward and connect with another bicycle knee strike. This time he staggers back wildly before hitting the ropes. There he finally drops down to a knee.
"NATHANIAAAAAAAAAAAL!"
With my voice filled with all the pent-up emotion that has been building over the last several months, I charge him once again. This time there is nothing but bad intention in it's purest form behind the knee strike. This time he goes down. This time I have a chance. This time it ENDS!
With adrenaline now coursing through my body alongside the very fires of hell inside me, I scramble between the ropes and out onto the ring apron. There I ascend to the place where I am most comfortable. The perch where the "Honorable Devil" often looks down and judges those that dare lay before him. That's where I am. That's who I am. At that moment I become that very being. It is at that same moment I leap.
I dive.
I fly.
I crash down onto my tormentor in order for him to suffer what I suffer. The anger that dwells within me. The doubt that plagues me. The unrelenting desire to take him out at the cost of EVERYTHING that I am. To suffer the Draven Effect
Boardwalk Hall
Atlantic City, New Jersey
Present Day
Nervously I sit in the men's locker room waiting for the call from Hank Brown. Unlike those men and women that are bigger and brighter stars, I hadn't been able to come up anything to hype up my match. Then again, I never thought I would ever reach a point where I would have to hype up a match ever again. Last time I did......the match drained the very spirit from my body. Pretty sad right?
"Mister Draven? Hank and the crew are ready."
"Alrighty then, I'm on the way."
With a confidence in my voice that I don't actually feel, I answer the messenger. Well, it was either I say something now or I never try again. Can I do this? Do I have it in me anymore or have I become an empty shell since....
With a loud clap, I force the thoughts of uncertainty from my mind and stand up from the chair I was in. With one last, prolonged deep breath to calm my nerves, I exit the locker room. The palms of my hand stinging from the force of the clap. After weaving through several corridors I reach my destination. There, standing in front of a WCF backdrop stands the man that has the unfortunate task of trying to draw a non-existent silver tongue from between my clenched teeth.
"Hello World CHampionship Federation faithful, Hank Brown here just minutes away from PAYBACK. With me now I one of the four that will be competing in tonight's opening contest, Matt Draven!"
With an awkward smile on my face, I nod to the camera as I am introduced. To keep my hands from shaking, I fold my arms and tuck my hands between my ribs and biceps.
"Now Matt, the last time you competed in a match was nearly a year ago. With that in mind, how are you feeling heading into tonight contest against your fellow newcomers to WCF?"
"Well, in all honesty, it feels pretty surreal."
"Surreal? How so?"
Annoyed by his interruption, I frown. I know he is good at what he does, but he could at least allow me to explain myself before jumping in!
"Well, I never thought I'd step into a ring again let alone be competing here in WCF. So yeah, it's a surreal feeling. Is there a problem with that?"
This time Frank is the one frowning at me. I guess my irritation at being interrupted had come out in my response. Whoopsie! Thankfully for the both of us, Hank seems to be pretty professional and opts to move on.
"What do you think of three that you're facing tonight in "Doberman" Danny McVay, Mischa Killings, and New Jersy's own Richard Dweck?"
There it is, the question that everybody wanted an answer for. Unfortunately for them, I'm not even sure what to think of any of them! Hopfully something will come to mind if I start talking. At the very least I can stall for time until I DO[ think of something. Right?
"What do I think of them? Well, I don't think they're any less threatening than those crazy bastards in Japan that I squared of against during my time there. So they have that going for them. Other than that? Well, they really don't make much of a blip on my radar."
"Really? What makes you say that?"
"Are we going to keep doing this?"
"Pardon me?"
WIth a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I unfold my arms, I fix Hank with a serious stare. Reluctantly, he backs down from the potentially explosive confrontation of the moment. Either he didn't want a repeat of something that had happened to him in the past or he could see the change in my eyes that I felt. Somehow, don't ask me how, his interruptions had dug up a forrgotten feeling. Rather a feeling that I had despretely tried to bury over the last ten months.
"Listen up Hank,"
With a slight pause, I tear my harsh gaze from Hank and fixate it upon the camera.
and everyone else for that matter. Danny, Mischa, and Richard aren't worth a shit compared to me. This isn't ego talking here, those three really aren't worth a shit. Outside of WCF they may be good, but here? Tonight? Against me? They aren't worth shit. Why? Well, other than the facts that Danny is a literall greenhorn, Mischa is being the poster girl for THOT's everywhere, and Richard being an overpaid jobber it's pretty simple."
Barely managing to keep my sudden anger in check, I push Hank out of the way and place myself directly in the center of the camera shot. A dangerous glint in my eyes.
"Danny McVay is nothing more than a young bitch from a clan of traveling bitches. Yeah Danny boy, you're from a nomadic culture. I get that, but at the same time that nomadic gypsy lifestyle is nothing more than consistantly running from one problem after another. Instead of confronting whatever the problem is your family just bailed frmom one thing to the next. You may think it's fine moving from one place to the next and think that you're just free spirited, but that isn't going to get you the win tonight. Nor is it going to net you a victory the following Slam, or the Slam after that, or the Slam after that. Instead you're just going to eat loss after bitter loss. You see, tonight I am the PROBLEM that you face. The one that'll daunt you. The one that vexes you. Why? Well, it's because I can and it's what I do."
With a frown I stare into the camera. However, the frown wasn't directed at young McVay or anybody watching. Instead it was directed at myself. That had been bad, like really bad, but I can't just back down despite how bad it was. Seriously! Regardless, I erase my self imposed frown and take a deep breath before continuing. Maybe this catastrophe will get better?
"Mischa Killings, the only thing that you're killing is any chance you have in this business. Seriously? Your entire style is based off of mind games and impactful moves? What happens when those mind games you relie so heavily upon don't fuckin' work? What happens when you can't get one of your impactful moves in? The answer is pretty easy. You, as in you you thot, can't do a thing! Which, now that I think about it, is exactly what's going to happen tonight when you face off with three other people in that ring. Sooooo.....yeah. You're kinda screwed."
Better? Try worse. Much worse! Dear god, how am I going to get through this? Not giving any hint to the depair I feel, I continue on with the last person.
"Richard Dweck. Richard Dweck? Weren't you playing enhancement talent for that company while they were on that Viceland channel? I think you were! Shit, when I said you were an overpaid jobber I was only talking about here in WCF. Well, you can't win everything right? Wait, you don't win anything. Shit. My bad. Look on the brightside, maybe tonight it'll be somebody else getting pinned tonight and not you for a change. Maybe. Proablly."
Well, things had gone from bad to worse. In my futile attempt at trashing talking my opponents I only managed to make myself feel awkward and overly unintimidating. Though, on the outside, it may seem like I just clowning around and making jokes at the expense of my opponents. Hopefully that's what it seemed like.
"Tonight, the three of you will experiance the Draven Effect. One way or another."
With one last look over at Hank Brown, who was still off screen at that poiint, I look back into the camera and grin devilishly before walking off screen.
Namba, Osaka, Japan
11 Months Ago
Pain reverberates throughout my entire being as I lay there upon the bloodstained canvas of the ring. My own blood only further staining it's already disgustingly crimson coloring. How had it come to this? We used to be friends! We used to be brothers! FAMILY! SO how? How had it come to this where each was trying to gut the other? I still don't understand! I don't want to understand! I cannot quell the desire to understand!
Doing the best I can to block out the pain, I roll my exhausted carcass over and crawl to the ropes that I am barely able to see through the blood that covers my face. My body. Inch by agonizing ich I crawl, still haunted by everything that has been down between the two of us. Not just in this moment, but over the last several years. Had the last couple of years been nothing but lies? Were we ever truly brothers? Had he simply been using me in order to complete his own selfish goal?
With my mind continuously flooded with an endless torrent of emotions, I manage to drag my ever weakening body over to the bottom rope. However, before I can go any further, I am grabbed by my hair and hoisted up to my feet where I once again am forced to stare into the face of the man that betrayed us. That betrayed me!
"THIS THE BEST YA GOT MATT? HUH? IS THIS THE BEST THAT HER DEVIL CAN DO? PATHETIC! YOU'RE FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Pathetic? Is that what I am to him? Was I always that in his eyes for the last two years? Pathetic? PATHETIC! For a reason that I'll never understand that is the one thing that ignites a fire so....so....undescribile that it takes control of my exhausted and broken body.
With new found vigor pumping through my veins, I slap his hands away and catch him underneath the point of his treacherous chin with Honorbound! Stunned, but not off of his feet, my former brother staggers back. However, I am nowhere near done! Fueled by the wonderfully enigmatic fire within me I charge forward and connect with another bicycle knee strike. This time he staggers back wildly before hitting the ropes. There he finally drops down to a knee.
"NATHANIAAAAAAAAAAAL!"
With my voice filled with all the pent-up emotion that has been building over the last several months, I charge him once again. This time there is nothing but bad intention in it's purest form behind the knee strike. This time he goes down. This time I have a chance. This time it ENDS!
With adrenaline now coursing through my body alongside the very fires of hell inside me, I scramble between the ropes and out onto the ring apron. There I ascend to the place where I am most comfortable. The perch where the "Honorable Devil" often looks down and judges those that dare lay before him. That's where I am. That's who I am. At that moment I become that very being. It is at that same moment I leap.
I dive.
I fly.
I crash down onto my tormentor in order for him to suffer what I suffer. The anger that dwells within me. The doubt that plagues me. The unrelenting desire to take him out at the cost of EVERYTHING that I am. To suffer the Draven Effect
Boardwalk Hall
Atlantic City, New Jersey
Present Day
Nervously I sit in the men's locker room waiting for the call from Hank Brown. Unlike those men and women that are bigger and brighter stars, I hadn't been able to come up anything to hype up my match. Then again, I never thought I would ever reach a point where I would have to hype up a match ever again. Last time I did......the match drained the very spirit from my body. Pretty sad right?
"Mister Draven? Hank and the crew are ready."
"Alrighty then, I'm on the way."
With a confidence in my voice that I don't actually feel, I answer the messenger. Well, it was either I say something now or I never try again. Can I do this? Do I have it in me anymore or have I become an empty shell since....
With a loud clap, I force the thoughts of uncertainty from my mind and stand up from the chair I was in. With one last, prolonged deep breath to calm my nerves, I exit the locker room. The palms of my hand stinging from the force of the clap. After weaving through several corridors I reach my destination. There, standing in front of a WCF backdrop stands the man that has the unfortunate task of trying to draw a non-existent silver tongue from between my clenched teeth.
"Hello World CHampionship Federation faithful, Hank Brown here just minutes away from PAYBACK. With me now I one of the four that will be competing in tonight's opening contest, Matt Draven!"
With an awkward smile on my face, I nod to the camera as I am introduced. To keep my hands from shaking, I fold my arms and tuck my hands between my ribs and biceps.
"Now Matt, the last time you competed in a match was nearly a year ago. With that in mind, how are you feeling heading into tonight contest against your fellow newcomers to WCF?"
"Well, in all honesty, it feels pretty surreal."
"Surreal? How so?"
Annoyed by his interruption, I frown. I know he is good at what he does, but he could at least allow me to explain myself before jumping in!
"Well, I never thought I'd step into a ring again let alone be competing here in WCF. So yeah, it's a surreal feeling. Is there a problem with that?"
This time Frank is the one frowning at me. I guess my irritation at being interrupted had come out in my response. Whoopsie! Thankfully for the both of us, Hank seems to be pretty professional and opts to move on.
"What do you think of three that you're facing tonight in "Doberman" Danny McVay, Mischa Killings, and New Jersy's own Richard Dweck?"
There it is, the question that everybody wanted an answer for. Unfortunately for them, I'm not even sure what to think of any of them! Hopfully something will come to mind if I start talking. At the very least I can stall for time until I DO[ think of something. Right?
"What do I think of them? Well, I don't think they're any less threatening than those crazy bastards in Japan that I squared of against during my time there. So they have that going for them. Other than that? Well, they really don't make much of a blip on my radar."
"Really? What makes you say that?"
"Are we going to keep doing this?"
"Pardon me?"
WIth a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I unfold my arms, I fix Hank with a serious stare. Reluctantly, he backs down from the potentially explosive confrontation of the moment. Either he didn't want a repeat of something that had happened to him in the past or he could see the change in my eyes that I felt. Somehow, don't ask me how, his interruptions had dug up a forrgotten feeling. Rather a feeling that I had despretely tried to bury over the last ten months.
"Listen up Hank,"
With a slight pause, I tear my harsh gaze from Hank and fixate it upon the camera.
and everyone else for that matter. Danny, Mischa, and Richard aren't worth a shit compared to me. This isn't ego talking here, those three really aren't worth a shit. Outside of WCF they may be good, but here? Tonight? Against me? They aren't worth shit. Why? Well, other than the facts that Danny is a literall greenhorn, Mischa is being the poster girl for THOT's everywhere, and Richard being an overpaid jobber it's pretty simple."
Barely managing to keep my sudden anger in check, I push Hank out of the way and place myself directly in the center of the camera shot. A dangerous glint in my eyes.
"Danny McVay is nothing more than a young bitch from a clan of traveling bitches. Yeah Danny boy, you're from a nomadic culture. I get that, but at the same time that nomadic gypsy lifestyle is nothing more than consistantly running from one problem after another. Instead of confronting whatever the problem is your family just bailed frmom one thing to the next. You may think it's fine moving from one place to the next and think that you're just free spirited, but that isn't going to get you the win tonight. Nor is it going to net you a victory the following Slam, or the Slam after that, or the Slam after that. Instead you're just going to eat loss after bitter loss. You see, tonight I am the PROBLEM that you face. The one that'll daunt you. The one that vexes you. Why? Well, it's because I can and it's what I do."
With a frown I stare into the camera. However, the frown wasn't directed at young McVay or anybody watching. Instead it was directed at myself. That had been bad, like really bad, but I can't just back down despite how bad it was. Seriously! Regardless, I erase my self imposed frown and take a deep breath before continuing. Maybe this catastrophe will get better?
"Mischa Killings, the only thing that you're killing is any chance you have in this business. Seriously? Your entire style is based off of mind games and impactful moves? What happens when those mind games you relie so heavily upon don't fuckin' work? What happens when you can't get one of your impactful moves in? The answer is pretty easy. You, as in you you thot, can't do a thing! Which, now that I think about it, is exactly what's going to happen tonight when you face off with three other people in that ring. Sooooo.....yeah. You're kinda screwed."
Better? Try worse. Much worse! Dear god, how am I going to get through this? Not giving any hint to the depair I feel, I continue on with the last person.
"Richard Dweck. Richard Dweck? Weren't you playing enhancement talent for that company while they were on that Viceland channel? I think you were! Shit, when I said you were an overpaid jobber I was only talking about here in WCF. Well, you can't win everything right? Wait, you don't win anything. Shit. My bad. Look on the brightside, maybe tonight it'll be somebody else getting pinned tonight and not you for a change. Maybe. Proablly."
Well, things had gone from bad to worse. In my futile attempt at trashing talking my opponents I only managed to make myself feel awkward and overly unintimidating. Though, on the outside, it may seem like I just clowning around and making jokes at the expense of my opponents. Hopefully that's what it seemed like.
"Tonight, the three of you will experiance the Draven Effect. One way or another."
With one last look over at Hank Brown, who was still off screen at that poiint, I look back into the camera and grin devilishly before walking off screen.
