Post by Matt Draven on Dec 9, 2018 23:58:09 GMT -5
Boardwalk Hall
Atlantic City, New Jersey
One Week Ago
The thrill of winning a match is something that I will never get used to. That by itself should worry me, but couple that with the thunderous approval of a live crowd make that feeling nothing short of addicting. From the moment that I hear my entrance theme playing till I am backstage in the locker room the adrenaline is pumping. Maybe it isn't adrenaline per se, but I can feel my heart begin to pump that much more and I cannot help but feel more alive than usual.
Pain?
Exhaustion?
Both are seemingly nonexistent as I make my way through the gorilla position and into the backstage area. Mayhem and Rider are next up, but my mind is far too busy trying to catch up to my relentlessly racing heart to register that fact. It isn't anything personal against them, but the dominant performance that I just gave the Atlantic City crowd just overshadowed anything that they could do in that ring! Nothing could ruin this for me! Not tonight!
Well, almost nothing.
"Hey Matt, that was quite a strong showing out there against Mischa Killings and Richard Dweck despite the curveball that changed the match from a fatal four-way into a triple threat. Care to share what's going through your mind right now?"
Hank Brown, just the man that I didn't want to speak to at this moment. It wasn't that I didn't see him as I rounded the corner, it was impossible to mistake him and the waiting camera, but I hadn't thought he be wanting to speak with again tonight. Not after that catastrophe prior to the start of Payback. As for his question? My mind is a million lightyears away from the here and now, and that makes things just that much more difficult for me.
"Well, I......uh....pffft! Does anybody really care? I mean, yeah the match got shortchanged a bit but that didn't change anything!"
"Are you saying th-"
"That is EXACTLY what I'm saying ol' Hanky! I went in there and did exactly what I wanted to do! So be prepared for more of that! WOOOO!"
Without giving Hank a chance to produce any further inquiries, I push my way past him and leave him (and those watching) with a loud exuberant shout! Despite my overjoyed mood, I cannot help but get a certain sense of deja vu. My racing mind doesn't pick up on it, but my emotional heart does. Even then it doesn't make any headway in my mind. Instead, a single thought crosses the super highway that is my mind at the moment.
This is a new beginning!
Atlantic City, New Jersey
One Week Ago
The thrill of winning a match is something that I will never get used to. That by itself should worry me, but couple that with the thunderous approval of a live crowd make that feeling nothing short of addicting. From the moment that I hear my entrance theme playing till I am backstage in the locker room the adrenaline is pumping. Maybe it isn't adrenaline per se, but I can feel my heart begin to pump that much more and I cannot help but feel more alive than usual.
Pain?
Exhaustion?
Both are seemingly nonexistent as I make my way through the gorilla position and into the backstage area. Mayhem and Rider are next up, but my mind is far too busy trying to catch up to my relentlessly racing heart to register that fact. It isn't anything personal against them, but the dominant performance that I just gave the Atlantic City crowd just overshadowed anything that they could do in that ring! Nothing could ruin this for me! Not tonight!
Well, almost nothing.
"Hey Matt, that was quite a strong showing out there against Mischa Killings and Richard Dweck despite the curveball that changed the match from a fatal four-way into a triple threat. Care to share what's going through your mind right now?"
Hank Brown, just the man that I didn't want to speak to at this moment. It wasn't that I didn't see him as I rounded the corner, it was impossible to mistake him and the waiting camera, but I hadn't thought he be wanting to speak with again tonight. Not after that catastrophe prior to the start of Payback. As for his question? My mind is a million lightyears away from the here and now, and that makes things just that much more difficult for me.
"Well, I......uh....pffft! Does anybody really care? I mean, yeah the match got shortchanged a bit but that didn't change anything!"
"Are you saying th-"
"That is EXACTLY what I'm saying ol' Hanky! I went in there and did exactly what I wanted to do! So be prepared for more of that! WOOOO!"
Without giving Hank a chance to produce any further inquiries, I push my way past him and leave him (and those watching) with a loud exuberant shout! Despite my overjoyed mood, I cannot help but get a certain sense of deja vu. My racing mind doesn't pick up on it, but my emotional heart does. Even then it doesn't make any headway in my mind. Instead, a single thought crosses the super highway that is my mind at the moment.
This is a new beginning!
Some High School Gym
Some town, Massachusettes
Four Years Ago
Dejected, I sit alone in the shitty locker room in this shitty little High School that I didn't even bother learning the name of. Good thing I didn't. I didn't want to remember this shithole anyway! More importantly, why does this always happen to me? I go out there to entertain but instead, I end up the butt of their laughter! This f,eeling is a common occurrence that I'll never get used to. It's something I don't want to get used to, but losing every match you're in kind of sucks. Which means it's pretty inescapable. I HATE IT!
"Well, aren't you a little bitch."
"THE FUCK YOU SAY?!"
With my dejection turning into anger, I hurriedly shoot up to my feet. Ready to fight it out with whoever had spoken to me! However, and much to my shock, my verbal assassin was a woman! Not that there was anything wrong with that. It's just that my mind hadn't connected the dots of the words spoken to that of the voice that had said them.
Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black SLAYER T-shirt, the porcelain white woman matched my anger filled glare with an overly smug smile of satisfaction.
"Now there is that fire I was hoping for."
"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
Despite the anger in my voice and the overall unpleasantness that I feel seething out of me, the woman continued to wear her smug smile as she closed the distance between us. Once she was close enough, the woman placed her left hand on my chest and shoved me backward! Caught off guard, I trip over the bench and fall to the concrete floor! With confusion, anger, and surprise battling each other for dominance over what had just happened I look up at the woman.
"Name's Claire and I have an offer that your not gonna want to fucking pass on."
Bob Carpenter Arena
Newark, Delaware
Present Day
"Can I not do this but say I did?"
"No can do Matt. Management will have my head if you don't get this done."
"Well....shit. Let's get this over with."
With a sigh of resignation and a shrug of my shoulders I give in to the man's demand for a promo before Slam goes live. Nothing has changed during this one week span when it comes to me and my inability to properly cut a promo. However, it seems like people just don't want to get it through their heads about how I feel about it. Then again I can't say I blame them any. They did allow me a week to film something on my own. BOy, that's a mistake they need to quit making.
"Okay, starting in 3.......2......"
With an overly dramatic gesture from the guy running the camera, the promo begins with me staring blankly into the camera standing in just my cargo shorts and boots. What a terrible countdown for a terrible promo. Fuck.
"Well....how do I begin?"
Trying to hide my shame the best I can as I nervously look around the locker room for...I don't even know what, I look down at the floor before sighing heavily. There isn't any way I can hide how terrible I am at this. If that's going to be the case then I might as well go for it. Right? With that in mind, I look back up and into the camera.
"Listen, this whole talking thing isn't something I'm great at. Hell! I'm pretty terrible at it, but you know what? Fuck it. Last week, when I debuted at Payback, I came out on top over two other people in pretty dominating fashion........well technically it was three people, but whatever. Point is, I fucking dominated. This week I get to square off against a woman with a helluva background that should give me a run for my money."
Reaching down, I grab the T-shirt I had draped over the bench a couple minutes ago before looking back into the camera.
"I say should because Miss Luiz hasn't exactly been herself the last couple of weeks. She should know that having a distracted mind isn't going to end well for her. Not when she's stepping into the ring against a guy that has no problem slamming his knee into her face repeatedly.....I'm talking about me and what I did to wreck Dweck. Anyway, the fact is she has been pretty distracted with that mask of her's and I gotta say that I'm pretty disappointed. As somebody that lives with that devil of uncertainty and fear, I can say for certain that it isn't the mask that she should be concerned about."
Taking a moment to breathe, and more importantly think, I tug the T-shirt over my head before making sure that it fits properly. The T-shirt has a picture of a sad looking Danny McVay standing alone with crumpled party hat and holding onto the string of a deflated balloon. The words "Let McVay Party" running across the top and bottom of the picture.
"Instead, she should be concerned about tonight. About me. Why? Well, you all saw what I did to Dweck and Killings. Tonight it's going to more of the same. Whether she becomes Honorbound, goes for a spin in the Disaster Cycle, or gets got with a Devil Driver all roads lead to the same ending. The Draven Effect."
With a silly grin plastered on my face, I give the camera an impish wink before walking out of the shot and effectivly cut the promo off there. Terrible? More like super terrible!
Some town, Massachusettes
Four Years Ago
Dejected, I sit alone in the shitty locker room in this shitty little High School that I didn't even bother learning the name of. Good thing I didn't. I didn't want to remember this shithole anyway! More importantly, why does this always happen to me? I go out there to entertain but instead, I end up the butt of their laughter! This f,eeling is a common occurrence that I'll never get used to. It's something I don't want to get used to, but losing every match you're in kind of sucks. Which means it's pretty inescapable. I HATE IT!
"Well, aren't you a little bitch."
"THE FUCK YOU SAY?!"
With my dejection turning into anger, I hurriedly shoot up to my feet. Ready to fight it out with whoever had spoken to me! However, and much to my shock, my verbal assassin was a woman! Not that there was anything wrong with that. It's just that my mind hadn't connected the dots of the words spoken to that of the voice that had said them.
Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black SLAYER T-shirt, the porcelain white woman matched my anger filled glare with an overly smug smile of satisfaction.
"Now there is that fire I was hoping for."
"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"
Despite the anger in my voice and the overall unpleasantness that I feel seething out of me, the woman continued to wear her smug smile as she closed the distance between us. Once she was close enough, the woman placed her left hand on my chest and shoved me backward! Caught off guard, I trip over the bench and fall to the concrete floor! With confusion, anger, and surprise battling each other for dominance over what had just happened I look up at the woman.
"Name's Claire and I have an offer that your not gonna want to fucking pass on."
Bob Carpenter Arena
Newark, Delaware
Present Day
"Can I not do this but say I did?"
"No can do Matt. Management will have my head if you don't get this done."
"Well....shit. Let's get this over with."
With a sigh of resignation and a shrug of my shoulders I give in to the man's demand for a promo before Slam goes live. Nothing has changed during this one week span when it comes to me and my inability to properly cut a promo. However, it seems like people just don't want to get it through their heads about how I feel about it. Then again I can't say I blame them any. They did allow me a week to film something on my own. BOy, that's a mistake they need to quit making.
"Okay, starting in 3.......2......"
With an overly dramatic gesture from the guy running the camera, the promo begins with me staring blankly into the camera standing in just my cargo shorts and boots. What a terrible countdown for a terrible promo. Fuck.
"Well....how do I begin?"
Trying to hide my shame the best I can as I nervously look around the locker room for...I don't even know what, I look down at the floor before sighing heavily. There isn't any way I can hide how terrible I am at this. If that's going to be the case then I might as well go for it. Right? With that in mind, I look back up and into the camera.
"Listen, this whole talking thing isn't something I'm great at. Hell! I'm pretty terrible at it, but you know what? Fuck it. Last week, when I debuted at Payback, I came out on top over two other people in pretty dominating fashion........well technically it was three people, but whatever. Point is, I fucking dominated. This week I get to square off against a woman with a helluva background that should give me a run for my money."
Reaching down, I grab the T-shirt I had draped over the bench a couple minutes ago before looking back into the camera.
"I say should because Miss Luiz hasn't exactly been herself the last couple of weeks. She should know that having a distracted mind isn't going to end well for her. Not when she's stepping into the ring against a guy that has no problem slamming his knee into her face repeatedly.....I'm talking about me and what I did to wreck Dweck. Anyway, the fact is she has been pretty distracted with that mask of her's and I gotta say that I'm pretty disappointed. As somebody that lives with that devil of uncertainty and fear, I can say for certain that it isn't the mask that she should be concerned about."
Taking a moment to breathe, and more importantly think, I tug the T-shirt over my head before making sure that it fits properly. The T-shirt has a picture of a sad looking Danny McVay standing alone with crumpled party hat and holding onto the string of a deflated balloon. The words "Let McVay Party" running across the top and bottom of the picture.
"Instead, she should be concerned about tonight. About me. Why? Well, you all saw what I did to Dweck and Killings. Tonight it's going to more of the same. Whether she becomes Honorbound, goes for a spin in the Disaster Cycle, or gets got with a Devil Driver all roads lead to the same ending. The Draven Effect."
With a silly grin plastered on my face, I give the camera an impish wink before walking out of the shot and effectivly cut the promo off there. Terrible? More like super terrible!
