Welcome to Gaia! ::

[This is the section where contracted wrestlers can interact and do their business. Whatever one would expect there to be in a backstage area, it can be found here. This thread will only be active during the Monday Massacre #13 show at the North Charleston Coliseum in Charleston, South Carolina.

NOTE: This includes the General Manager's Office now.]

Matt sat inside of his office quietly, shuffling through a stack of notes for his special announcement later in the evening. The knock echoed through his room, causing the General Manager to look up from his notes and stare at the door through the tinted glass of his aviators. "... Yep, come in."

A sigh escaped Shanahan's lips at the question, one that he heard more times in his career than he could remotely remember. He went back to looking over the notes while muttering, "Months being here and you're just now questioning it? Or is there a better reason you're here?"

Jack Arson would be caught on camera entering the arena in his 1976 Corvette Stingray...why he was here this evening remained to be seen seeing as the O.M.W.C. had been given the night off.

He pulled his car into the garage and was quick to throw the door open and climb out of the car, the frustration on his face was plain to see as he made his way through the parking garage into the corridor leading to the general managers office. Jack had been in a bit of a funk since falling short in his last Crimson City title match, and it was made obvious last week when he was pinned by Scorpio Saint Mercer..a loss that Arson would never forget.

Jack would come down the hallway and make his way to Shanahan's office and without a care for what the boss was doing, would pound on the door about 15 times with his fist that was roughly half the size of a toaster...Arson was irate due to this recent funk and what little decency he had had gone out the window after the Mercer loss.

Vaseline Man waited in line behind the visibly irate Jack Arson. Vaseline Man had much less business to handle, probably less important. He just stood there twiddling his thumbs.

Dion thought about what Shanahan had said. For his tenure here, Dion had mostly dealt with minor annoyances backstage or help break up scuffles. Now that he was healthy again...

"...I don't intend to conquer anymore. I intend to win. Seasons, Crimson, whatever; I'll contend for any title that there is a contender match opening for, at Hardcore Harvest."

Dion nodded at the offer, his way of accepting it. "Thanks, Shanahan. That was pretty much it," he said, standing up. As he made his way to the door, he turned back to say, "...Also, I do intend to bring only my best to this company. You're a good man, Shanahan, and only deserve the best from all of us. Just wanted to say that." With that, he walked out of the office.