Post by Matt Rydell on Jul 21, 2014 18:53:19 GMT -6
[friday 18th june;]
[evermore stadium, infinity city;]
[11:08pm;]
**THUD**
A football flies from the edge of the penalty area, into the top right corner of the goal.
**THUD**
**CLANG**
Another ball fizzes through the air, this time pinging off the crossbar. The sound echos around the empty Evermore Stadium, the home of Matt Rydell's Infinity City FC. Rydell pauses, breathing heavily. He looks around the empty arena, floodlights illuminating row after row of empty seats. Sponsors flash on the advertising boards on the side of the pitch, but there's nobody there to see them. A stadium usually filled to the brim with rowdy fans dressed in all blue, is now eerily silent.
"This is a horrible city;" Rydell thinks, as he stares around the home of his baby. His creation. "But I bloody love this stadium." He spins around quickly, lashing another ball into the middle of the net. Rydell used to come here all the time when he lived in Infinity City. At the beginning, the groundsmen were furious that the chairman was strutting onto the pitch in the middle of the night to relieve his frustrations, but they were used to it by now. Rydell had been here a lot.
He was back for a few days, finalising some sponsorship deals for the club, and moving into a new apartment. He didn't live here anymore, but it was important to have an apartment here, for when he needed to be here. His old apartment was luxurious, three bedrooms, with a theatre. His new one was one bedroom, normal. It was nice though, in a good part of town, close to the arena. Moving was stressful though, and dealing with idiot movers all day hadn't been fun.
It wasn't the sponsorship deals, or the moving, or even the stress of flying from Minnesota to L.A. to Infinity City that had him here, late on a Friday night, pinging footballs by himself. It was days removed from his return match on Breakthrough, where he lost a triple threat match. Frustrated wasn't the word. He was so sure that he was going to pick up the victory. He had been gone for two weeks, but he had been training every day. Watching footage. Rolling around in practice rings. He hadn't been slouching, he wasn't taking a holiday. Yet here he was, on the back of a defeat after just his second match.
He turned to smash another ball towards goal, but before his foot touched the ball, the iPhone in his pocket buzzed, as the sound of his phone ringing echoed around the empty stadium. He reached down into his pocket, grabbing his phone and looking at his screen. The pretty face of his assistant, Claire Knox, was smiling at him. He guessed that wasn't her expression on the other side of the phone.
"Hey Claire. How's it goi-"
"Are you mad?"
"Uh..."
"Seriously. Are you an idiot? What on earth possessed you to confront the wife of your boss. On live television. After one match. Please, explain to me the thought process that you went through to get to that point."
"I don't like the way things are being run, so I went straight to the top."
There was an audible sigh from the other end, as Rydell winced, expecting a rollocking.
"Well, BOSS, I don't like the way things are being ran here, so I'm going to air my grievances to you. You trailed me from LA to Infinity City, on a whim. You put me in charge of your life, and proceeded to go mental because you didn't like being popular. Then you uprooted me back to LA, just as I got comfortable in Infinity City. Then, after months of complaining that you weren't interested in wrestling, you fly to Minnesota and sign a contract without even consulting me. You told me that you could handle this. That you were going to stay out of trouble, and get on with your job. If you can't do that, hand in your resignation. I will not babysit you again while you have a nervous breakdown AGAIN. You're a grown man, FIGURE IT OUT."
Click. The line went dead, and Rydell was left standing, feeling extremely lonely, in his empty stadium.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[monday 22nd july;]
[herb brooks national hockey centre, st. cloud, minnesotta;]
[7:47pm]
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, The Wolf; Matt Rydell."
The camera pans out a little, as the figure of Matt Rydell steps into view. He takes the microphone from Darius Yates, pushing him out of the frame.
"And you're done, Yates. Thanks for the introduction. People, my name is Matt Rydell. I'm The Wolf, The New Breed of Professional Wrestler, The New Dawn. I've been called a liar. A bastard. A bitch. A cheater. Overrated and underrated. Good and bad. Right and wrong. But for all the names I've been called, all the phrases coined about me, there's one thing I've never been called. Kiss-ass."
"If anything, I've been called the opposite. You see, there is a recurring theme wherever I go. Whether it's in the wrestling world, the business world, even out in the real world, I seem to have a real issue with authority."
"It's not something I intend. I never actively seek out fights with my superiors. It just happens. I can't explain, and I can't give you a reason why it keeps happening. All I can tell you is why it's happening this time."
"So I came in here, with little knowledge about the company. So I've been watching, listening, judging everybody and weighing them up. And from all that, there was one thing that stuck out to me. One person who I couldn't quite figure out. You see, everybody seemed to deserve their place on the card. Everybody was in the right spot. Except for one. Rayne Draven-Omega. Every time I walk through the locker room, I hear people blowing her up, saying how good she is. I've watched her though, and I'm not impressed. Maybe she is talented, maybe she is a true great. Or maybe she's in the position she's in because she happens to be boinking the man who makes all the decisions."
"Seems to me, you can get whatever spot you want, as long as your the one opening your legs. Maybe I should have opened mine, and I would have been in the title tournament. But that's not the point. My point is that there seems to be some preferential treatment being handed out around here, and I either want in, or I want it out."
"That's why I confronted Mrs. Omega last week. I didn't agree with what was going on, so I spoke up. I didn't hide away from the issue. Unlike Rayne, who hid behind her new enforcer Mr. E. I'm not sure if Rayne can't fight her battles, but her new bodyguard was really quick to step into her defence. I hope you're keeping an eye on that, boss."
"So maybe I'm in this fatal four way tonight because I lost last week. Or maybe I'm in it because I stood up and spoke out, when other dudes wouldn't have the balls to. Either way, I don't plan losing two weeks in a row. Losing last week reminded me of how much I hate losing. I was backed into a corner, and I lost the fight. But now? I taste my own blood, and it's made me angry. Usually, I like to talk some smack about my opponents, make a few jokes, and the close it out with a clever quote, mixed with various moments of me telling everybody in the arena that they're a dumb asshole. Tonight, I don't have the time. I'm really hungry for redemption, and it really doesn't matter who I'm facing. YOu could put God himself in front of me, and it wouldn't matter."
"Last week was the trial run. Tonight? The Wolf's really back. Start running."
[evermore stadium, infinity city;]
[11:08pm;]
**THUD**
A football flies from the edge of the penalty area, into the top right corner of the goal.
**THUD**
**CLANG**
Another ball fizzes through the air, this time pinging off the crossbar. The sound echos around the empty Evermore Stadium, the home of Matt Rydell's Infinity City FC. Rydell pauses, breathing heavily. He looks around the empty arena, floodlights illuminating row after row of empty seats. Sponsors flash on the advertising boards on the side of the pitch, but there's nobody there to see them. A stadium usually filled to the brim with rowdy fans dressed in all blue, is now eerily silent.
"This is a horrible city;" Rydell thinks, as he stares around the home of his baby. His creation. "But I bloody love this stadium." He spins around quickly, lashing another ball into the middle of the net. Rydell used to come here all the time when he lived in Infinity City. At the beginning, the groundsmen were furious that the chairman was strutting onto the pitch in the middle of the night to relieve his frustrations, but they were used to it by now. Rydell had been here a lot.
He was back for a few days, finalising some sponsorship deals for the club, and moving into a new apartment. He didn't live here anymore, but it was important to have an apartment here, for when he needed to be here. His old apartment was luxurious, three bedrooms, with a theatre. His new one was one bedroom, normal. It was nice though, in a good part of town, close to the arena. Moving was stressful though, and dealing with idiot movers all day hadn't been fun.
It wasn't the sponsorship deals, or the moving, or even the stress of flying from Minnesota to L.A. to Infinity City that had him here, late on a Friday night, pinging footballs by himself. It was days removed from his return match on Breakthrough, where he lost a triple threat match. Frustrated wasn't the word. He was so sure that he was going to pick up the victory. He had been gone for two weeks, but he had been training every day. Watching footage. Rolling around in practice rings. He hadn't been slouching, he wasn't taking a holiday. Yet here he was, on the back of a defeat after just his second match.
He turned to smash another ball towards goal, but before his foot touched the ball, the iPhone in his pocket buzzed, as the sound of his phone ringing echoed around the empty stadium. He reached down into his pocket, grabbing his phone and looking at his screen. The pretty face of his assistant, Claire Knox, was smiling at him. He guessed that wasn't her expression on the other side of the phone.
"Hey Claire. How's it goi-"
"Are you mad?"
"Uh..."
"Seriously. Are you an idiot? What on earth possessed you to confront the wife of your boss. On live television. After one match. Please, explain to me the thought process that you went through to get to that point."
"I don't like the way things are being run, so I went straight to the top."
There was an audible sigh from the other end, as Rydell winced, expecting a rollocking.
"Well, BOSS, I don't like the way things are being ran here, so I'm going to air my grievances to you. You trailed me from LA to Infinity City, on a whim. You put me in charge of your life, and proceeded to go mental because you didn't like being popular. Then you uprooted me back to LA, just as I got comfortable in Infinity City. Then, after months of complaining that you weren't interested in wrestling, you fly to Minnesota and sign a contract without even consulting me. You told me that you could handle this. That you were going to stay out of trouble, and get on with your job. If you can't do that, hand in your resignation. I will not babysit you again while you have a nervous breakdown AGAIN. You're a grown man, FIGURE IT OUT."
Click. The line went dead, and Rydell was left standing, feeling extremely lonely, in his empty stadium.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[monday 22nd july;]
[herb brooks national hockey centre, st. cloud, minnesotta;]
[7:47pm]
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time, The Wolf; Matt Rydell."
The camera pans out a little, as the figure of Matt Rydell steps into view. He takes the microphone from Darius Yates, pushing him out of the frame.
"And you're done, Yates. Thanks for the introduction. People, my name is Matt Rydell. I'm The Wolf, The New Breed of Professional Wrestler, The New Dawn. I've been called a liar. A bastard. A bitch. A cheater. Overrated and underrated. Good and bad. Right and wrong. But for all the names I've been called, all the phrases coined about me, there's one thing I've never been called. Kiss-ass."
"If anything, I've been called the opposite. You see, there is a recurring theme wherever I go. Whether it's in the wrestling world, the business world, even out in the real world, I seem to have a real issue with authority."
"It's not something I intend. I never actively seek out fights with my superiors. It just happens. I can't explain, and I can't give you a reason why it keeps happening. All I can tell you is why it's happening this time."
"So I came in here, with little knowledge about the company. So I've been watching, listening, judging everybody and weighing them up. And from all that, there was one thing that stuck out to me. One person who I couldn't quite figure out. You see, everybody seemed to deserve their place on the card. Everybody was in the right spot. Except for one. Rayne Draven-Omega. Every time I walk through the locker room, I hear people blowing her up, saying how good she is. I've watched her though, and I'm not impressed. Maybe she is talented, maybe she is a true great. Or maybe she's in the position she's in because she happens to be boinking the man who makes all the decisions."
"Seems to me, you can get whatever spot you want, as long as your the one opening your legs. Maybe I should have opened mine, and I would have been in the title tournament. But that's not the point. My point is that there seems to be some preferential treatment being handed out around here, and I either want in, or I want it out."
"That's why I confronted Mrs. Omega last week. I didn't agree with what was going on, so I spoke up. I didn't hide away from the issue. Unlike Rayne, who hid behind her new enforcer Mr. E. I'm not sure if Rayne can't fight her battles, but her new bodyguard was really quick to step into her defence. I hope you're keeping an eye on that, boss."
"So maybe I'm in this fatal four way tonight because I lost last week. Or maybe I'm in it because I stood up and spoke out, when other dudes wouldn't have the balls to. Either way, I don't plan losing two weeks in a row. Losing last week reminded me of how much I hate losing. I was backed into a corner, and I lost the fight. But now? I taste my own blood, and it's made me angry. Usually, I like to talk some smack about my opponents, make a few jokes, and the close it out with a clever quote, mixed with various moments of me telling everybody in the arena that they're a dumb asshole. Tonight, I don't have the time. I'm really hungry for redemption, and it really doesn't matter who I'm facing. YOu could put God himself in front of me, and it wouldn't matter."
"Last week was the trial run. Tonight? The Wolf's really back. Start running."
