Post by raze on Mar 17, 2024 9:59:45 GMT -8
The camera brings us into a familiar living room, or part of it anyway. The leather couch next to an amplifier stack. Marshalls, naturally. The Epiphone flying V stays in its stand. On the couch lies Raze, who had competed two days ago in one of the most violent, brutal matches in One Wrestle history. He is lying on his back, face giving away some of the pain he's in as the corner of his mouth twitches and tenses. He looks over at the camera, giving a chin just to acknowledge it.
"That time already?"
He sits up slowly, a groan signalling the pain, primarily in his back. He swings his legs down until his feet touch the floor, giving an "ooh" as he does so.
"Alright"
He takes a few breaths as he attempts to will the pain down. His eyes become focused, even if it still gives him away. Nodding in satisfaction, he then claps his hands in applause.
"Rowena... Well done, kid. I'm man enough to say it, you got me. One second of difference decided it. You were smart enough to use that shit to pull yourself up. Good job."
He laughs, but it's cut short as another pang of pain shoots across his back. He takes in a sharp breath.
"That's how you add prestige to a fucking title. Now, that doesn't mean I suddenly like you, but you did earn my respect. We tore the house down, almost literally. So now, with a win like that, it's gonna kick into a higher gear for you. More people will want to test you. Don't know when, don't know who, don't know how. Don't really care, point is, after a win like that, you got eyes on you. The title means a good deal more after a match like that and they will notice. Time for you to bounce back."
Raze, noticing he's been gradually slouching as he talks, pauses to straighten up, wincing as he does. Despite himself, he does something unexpected.
"Heheheheh!"
The laughter builds until it's uncontrollable. He arches his back, head back and eyes scrunched tight, tears streaming down his face, fists clenched until his knuckles are white! The hysterical, belly laughter starts to diminish and his breathing deepens. He uses his hands to wipe his eyes and he leans back on the couch, vocalising the shooting pains.
"Auu, fuck me... Oh, fuck, laughing makes it worse."
Composing himself, he looks back to the camera, looking oddly content.
"I haven't felt that alive in a match in a very long time. Enjoy the win, I admit you deserve it after that. But we may well meet again, sooner or later. Neither of us are booked at the next show. Seems we have a reprieve. So, you'll need to get ready for another defence, most likely. But me? What will I do?"
He leans forward, jaw clenched. An ice bath only does so much.
"Whatever the fuck I want."
He looks out of frame, holding up a finger.
"Hold on. That match finished what Douglas Crane starred. It helped me find the perfect balance. I just happened to lose, but I found the balance I needed. So, my thanks to whoever the fuck made that stipulation. Seriously. A new chapter begins."
Raze reaches off frame and procures a bottle of pills. Painkillers, most likely. Pouring a couple into his hand, he pops them in his mouth and closes the bottle. He then grabs a beer, twisting the top off and washing the painkillers down. He didn't use them often, a habit from his PMC days, in situations where there was no access to any. Still, this, in his mind, was a special occasion, so fuck it. At his signal, the camera fades to black as he begins to lie back down and rest a little.
"That time already?"
He sits up slowly, a groan signalling the pain, primarily in his back. He swings his legs down until his feet touch the floor, giving an "ooh" as he does so.
"Alright"
He takes a few breaths as he attempts to will the pain down. His eyes become focused, even if it still gives him away. Nodding in satisfaction, he then claps his hands in applause.
"Rowena... Well done, kid. I'm man enough to say it, you got me. One second of difference decided it. You were smart enough to use that shit to pull yourself up. Good job."
He laughs, but it's cut short as another pang of pain shoots across his back. He takes in a sharp breath.
"That's how you add prestige to a fucking title. Now, that doesn't mean I suddenly like you, but you did earn my respect. We tore the house down, almost literally. So now, with a win like that, it's gonna kick into a higher gear for you. More people will want to test you. Don't know when, don't know who, don't know how. Don't really care, point is, after a win like that, you got eyes on you. The title means a good deal more after a match like that and they will notice. Time for you to bounce back."
Raze, noticing he's been gradually slouching as he talks, pauses to straighten up, wincing as he does. Despite himself, he does something unexpected.
"Heheheheh!"
The laughter builds until it's uncontrollable. He arches his back, head back and eyes scrunched tight, tears streaming down his face, fists clenched until his knuckles are white! The hysterical, belly laughter starts to diminish and his breathing deepens. He uses his hands to wipe his eyes and he leans back on the couch, vocalising the shooting pains.
"Auu, fuck me... Oh, fuck, laughing makes it worse."
Composing himself, he looks back to the camera, looking oddly content.
"I haven't felt that alive in a match in a very long time. Enjoy the win, I admit you deserve it after that. But we may well meet again, sooner or later. Neither of us are booked at the next show. Seems we have a reprieve. So, you'll need to get ready for another defence, most likely. But me? What will I do?"
He leans forward, jaw clenched. An ice bath only does so much.
"Whatever the fuck I want."
He looks out of frame, holding up a finger.
"Hold on. That match finished what Douglas Crane starred. It helped me find the perfect balance. I just happened to lose, but I found the balance I needed. So, my thanks to whoever the fuck made that stipulation. Seriously. A new chapter begins."
Raze reaches off frame and procures a bottle of pills. Painkillers, most likely. Pouring a couple into his hand, he pops them in his mouth and closes the bottle. He then grabs a beer, twisting the top off and washing the painkillers down. He didn't use them often, a habit from his PMC days, in situations where there was no access to any. Still, this, in his mind, was a special occasion, so fuck it. At his signal, the camera fades to black as he begins to lie back down and rest a little.