[Live]
Just as last week, the titantron flickered on to reveal a small TV monitor, playing the highlights of the previous Salem Croft vs Freakshow match. One of the major highlights it seemed to keep repeating was Salem's use of the metallic baseball bat, of which some fans seem to recall from memories of past federations. Finally, it showed the referee holding Salem Croft's hand high in victory.
"Here is your winner, Sal-"
The TV promptly cut off before the announcer could finish. The camera panned outward and turned around to show the familiar face of the iconic Matt Shanahan, sitting up on another crate. He wore the same leather trenchcoat from last week, accompanied by his black shirt and jeans underneath. His aviators hung around the neck of his shirt, keep his black eyes revealed to the world.
"Freakshow... That's another name I hadn't heard in a long-a** while. Surprised to see isn't dead yet... He actually put up a decent fight, I guess. That Salem kid knew what he was doing though. I mean... Who else would've known that Freakshow hated baseball bats?" The God of Punks asked out loud to himself, looking at the camera to give it a quick wink. Had Matt had some influence on that decision? Don't get your hopes up.
Shanahan reached down and picked up his beer bottle off the crate and took a quick swig from it; his face distorted into a grimace as he pulled away, taking a moment to stare at the bottle. "... Bud Light? Seriously? They're -still- springing for liquefied s**t around here?" The God of Punks stated in a rather annoyed tone, his vocal volume rising as he did. His eyes turned to stare down at the clipboard he had taken to carrying around since last week; an LWL contract, of course. He picked it up after setting down the beer and began to flip through the pages. "... You know what?"
Quickly reaching into his pocket, Matt produced a pen and began to scribble onto the contract. Some fans began to shout in joy that Shanahan was signing it... But after his scribbling went on for well over a minute, it was clear he wasn't really signing it. "... There, I think that'll work," Matt lifted his head to look around, spotting a stray crew member walking through the hall, "Hey! Hey you! Get over here!"
The crew member rushed over to stand in front of Matt, his eyebrows raised. Not because of the fact that this man was demanding his attention, but because he didn't seem to know who the man was, "Um... Yes sir?"
Shanahan pushed the clipboard into the young man's chest as he stood up, those black eyes staring down to the smaller male, "Get this to whatever ******** owns this company. Tell them if all these revisions are made official, then I'll possibly sign on. And so help me, if they don't include my demands for decent booze around here, I will hunt you down and beat you wi-..." Matt paused to turn around and look for his baseball bat... What a coincidence, it wasn't there! "... With my bare hands!" The God of Punks finished, his intense glare softening at the sight of the man nearly cowering before him, "... And here, take this for your troubles. Now scram!" He commanded after reaching into his pocket and pushing a single currency bill into his hands.
Turning on heel, Matt began to walk off towards the double doors that said EXIT on the front of them. "Now... Where did I leave my bat..."
[End scene]
Just as last week, the titantron flickered on to reveal a small TV monitor, playing the highlights of the previous Salem Croft vs Freakshow match. One of the major highlights it seemed to keep repeating was Salem's use of the metallic baseball bat, of which some fans seem to recall from memories of past federations. Finally, it showed the referee holding Salem Croft's hand high in victory.
"Here is your winner, Sal-"
The TV promptly cut off before the announcer could finish. The camera panned outward and turned around to show the familiar face of the iconic Matt Shanahan, sitting up on another crate. He wore the same leather trenchcoat from last week, accompanied by his black shirt and jeans underneath. His aviators hung around the neck of his shirt, keep his black eyes revealed to the world.
"Freakshow... That's another name I hadn't heard in a long-a** while. Surprised to see isn't dead yet... He actually put up a decent fight, I guess. That Salem kid knew what he was doing though. I mean... Who else would've known that Freakshow hated baseball bats?" The God of Punks asked out loud to himself, looking at the camera to give it a quick wink. Had Matt had some influence on that decision? Don't get your hopes up.
Shanahan reached down and picked up his beer bottle off the crate and took a quick swig from it; his face distorted into a grimace as he pulled away, taking a moment to stare at the bottle. "... Bud Light? Seriously? They're -still- springing for liquefied s**t around here?" The God of Punks stated in a rather annoyed tone, his vocal volume rising as he did. His eyes turned to stare down at the clipboard he had taken to carrying around since last week; an LWL contract, of course. He picked it up after setting down the beer and began to flip through the pages. "... You know what?"
Quickly reaching into his pocket, Matt produced a pen and began to scribble onto the contract. Some fans began to shout in joy that Shanahan was signing it... But after his scribbling went on for well over a minute, it was clear he wasn't really signing it. "... There, I think that'll work," Matt lifted his head to look around, spotting a stray crew member walking through the hall, "Hey! Hey you! Get over here!"
The crew member rushed over to stand in front of Matt, his eyebrows raised. Not because of the fact that this man was demanding his attention, but because he didn't seem to know who the man was, "Um... Yes sir?"
Shanahan pushed the clipboard into the young man's chest as he stood up, those black eyes staring down to the smaller male, "Get this to whatever ******** owns this company. Tell them if all these revisions are made official, then I'll possibly sign on. And so help me, if they don't include my demands for decent booze around here, I will hunt you down and beat you wi-..." Matt paused to turn around and look for his baseball bat... What a coincidence, it wasn't there! "... With my bare hands!" The God of Punks finished, his intense glare softening at the sight of the man nearly cowering before him, "... And here, take this for your troubles. Now scram!" He commanded after reaching into his pocket and pushing a single currency bill into his hands.
Turning on heel, Matt began to walk off towards the double doors that said EXIT on the front of them. "Now... Where did I leave my bat..."
[End scene]
