Post by Roy Vezina on Sept 19, 2024 11:35:30 GMT
The sound of rain patters against the windows of a small, dimly lit diner. The atmosphere inside is warm, with the smell of coffee brewing and the faint clatter of silverware in the background. At one of the booths, sitting opposite a newspaper reporter, is Roy Vezina. He’s not in his usual wrestling gear, but in a leather jacket, the air of arrogance still clinging to him despite the casual setting. He stirs his coffee absentmindedly, his eyes narrowed as he speaks. The reporter sits across from him, scribbling notes as Roy begins talking about his upcoming match.
Roy Vezina: (leaning back, smirking slightly as he watches the rain outside) “You know, this is the kind of place where people come to talk about their problems, vent about their lives. But me? I don’t have problems. Not real ones, anyway. All this noise about Kalidah, the Ambush, Pollo Road… it’s just background chatter. The truth is, I’m exactly where I need to be.”
The reporter, clearly intrigued, leans forward, pen poised to jot down more notes.
Reporter: “This is arguably the biggest match of your career. The PMLL Heavyweight Championship. Kalidah has been a dominant champion, and the stakes are higher than ever. How are you feeling going into Golden Road?”
Roy chuckles, taking a slow sip of his coffee before setting the mug down. His confidence oozes out with every word.
Roy Vezina: “How do I feel? I feel like I’m about to do what I’ve always known I could do—take the top spot. Kalidah’s been holding onto that belt, walking around with his creepy little gang, playing his mind games, but all of that’s smoke and mirrors. He wants everyone to be afraid of him, like he’s some kind of living nightmare. But me? I see through that.”
The rain outside picks up, adding a tense, moody vibe to the scene. Roy glances out the window for a moment before turning back to the reporter.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah might have everyone else spooked with his masks, his Ambush, and whatever else he throws at them. But at the end of the day, he’s just Eli to me. All that nightmare stuff is a crutch. He knows he’s gotta rely on that crap because when it’s just him in the ring, when it’s just him and me… he’s no different from anyone else I’ve beaten.”
The reporter raises an eyebrow, surprised by Roy’s casual dismissal of the champion.
Reporter: “But Kalidah isn’t just anyone. He’s held the PMLL title for quite some time. He’s fought off some of the toughest competition in Pollo Road. What makes you so sure you can succeed where others have failed?”
Roy leans forward, his eyes narrowing as his smirk grows more pronounced.
Roy Vezina: “What makes me so sure? Look at me. Look at my track record. I’ve been knocking on the door for a while, but now it’s time to kick that door in. Kalidah’s a great champion, sure. But great champions fall. And when they do, they fall hard. Kalidah’s reign is running on borrowed time. That title he’s clinging to? It’s slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t even know it yet.”
The reporter scribbles furiously, trying to keep up with Roy’s words.
Reporter: “You mentioned the Ambush—Kalidah’s group. They’ve been a constant thorn in your side. Are you concerned they might interfere at Golden Road?”
Roy scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, clearly unimpressed by the thought.
Roy Vezina: “The Ambush? Let them try. Those masked clowns are just background noise. Sure, they can jump people from behind, they can play their little games, but when it comes down to it, they don’t have what it takes to stop me. If they show up at Golden Road, they’re just signing up for a beating.”
He pauses, staring out the window again as the rain continues to pour. There’s a brief silence before Roy speaks again, his voice low but filled with intensity.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah can hide behind his Ambush, behind his masks, his mind games, all of it. But when it’s just me and him in that ring, face to face, all that disappears. It’s just two men, and one of us is walking out with that title. I know which one it’s gonna be.”
The reporter, sensing the gravity of Roy’s confidence, continues scribbling down notes.
Reporter: “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about the outcome. No doubts at all?”
Roy smiles, but there’s a sharpness to it now, a steely determination behind his eyes.
Roy Vezina: “Doubts? Doubts are for people who don’t know what they’re capable of. Me? I know exactly who I am, and I know exactly what I’m capable of. Kalidah’s just another obstacle, and I’ve been knocking obstacles down my whole career. I’ve come too far, worked too hard, to let some guy in a mask stop me.”
The rain pounds harder against the windows as Roy leans forward, his tone turning colder, more intense.
Roy Vezina: “This isn’t just about the PMLL title. This is about proving to everyone—Pollo Road, Kalidah, the fans, the Ambush—that I’m the guy. I’m the one who takes the top spot. And when Golden Road is over, when that bell rings, I’ll be standing in the center of that ring with my hand raised and that championship around my waist.”
Roy stands up from the booth, tossing a few bills onto the table for his coffee before glancing back at the reporter.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah’s time is up. And I don’t care how many nightmares he throws my way, because I’m the one turning them into reality.”
With that, Roy turns and walks out of the diner, the sound of the rain fading as he pushes open the door and disappears into the stormy night. The reporter watches him go, furiously writing the last few lines as the scene fades to black.
Roy Vezina: (leaning back, smirking slightly as he watches the rain outside) “You know, this is the kind of place where people come to talk about their problems, vent about their lives. But me? I don’t have problems. Not real ones, anyway. All this noise about Kalidah, the Ambush, Pollo Road… it’s just background chatter. The truth is, I’m exactly where I need to be.”
The reporter, clearly intrigued, leans forward, pen poised to jot down more notes.
Reporter: “This is arguably the biggest match of your career. The PMLL Heavyweight Championship. Kalidah has been a dominant champion, and the stakes are higher than ever. How are you feeling going into Golden Road?”
Roy chuckles, taking a slow sip of his coffee before setting the mug down. His confidence oozes out with every word.
Roy Vezina: “How do I feel? I feel like I’m about to do what I’ve always known I could do—take the top spot. Kalidah’s been holding onto that belt, walking around with his creepy little gang, playing his mind games, but all of that’s smoke and mirrors. He wants everyone to be afraid of him, like he’s some kind of living nightmare. But me? I see through that.”
The rain outside picks up, adding a tense, moody vibe to the scene. Roy glances out the window for a moment before turning back to the reporter.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah might have everyone else spooked with his masks, his Ambush, and whatever else he throws at them. But at the end of the day, he’s just Eli to me. All that nightmare stuff is a crutch. He knows he’s gotta rely on that crap because when it’s just him in the ring, when it’s just him and me… he’s no different from anyone else I’ve beaten.”
The reporter raises an eyebrow, surprised by Roy’s casual dismissal of the champion.
Reporter: “But Kalidah isn’t just anyone. He’s held the PMLL title for quite some time. He’s fought off some of the toughest competition in Pollo Road. What makes you so sure you can succeed where others have failed?”
Roy leans forward, his eyes narrowing as his smirk grows more pronounced.
Roy Vezina: “What makes me so sure? Look at me. Look at my track record. I’ve been knocking on the door for a while, but now it’s time to kick that door in. Kalidah’s a great champion, sure. But great champions fall. And when they do, they fall hard. Kalidah’s reign is running on borrowed time. That title he’s clinging to? It’s slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t even know it yet.”
The reporter scribbles furiously, trying to keep up with Roy’s words.
Reporter: “You mentioned the Ambush—Kalidah’s group. They’ve been a constant thorn in your side. Are you concerned they might interfere at Golden Road?”
Roy scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, clearly unimpressed by the thought.
Roy Vezina: “The Ambush? Let them try. Those masked clowns are just background noise. Sure, they can jump people from behind, they can play their little games, but when it comes down to it, they don’t have what it takes to stop me. If they show up at Golden Road, they’re just signing up for a beating.”
He pauses, staring out the window again as the rain continues to pour. There’s a brief silence before Roy speaks again, his voice low but filled with intensity.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah can hide behind his Ambush, behind his masks, his mind games, all of it. But when it’s just me and him in that ring, face to face, all that disappears. It’s just two men, and one of us is walking out with that title. I know which one it’s gonna be.”
The reporter, sensing the gravity of Roy’s confidence, continues scribbling down notes.
Reporter: “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about the outcome. No doubts at all?”
Roy smiles, but there’s a sharpness to it now, a steely determination behind his eyes.
Roy Vezina: “Doubts? Doubts are for people who don’t know what they’re capable of. Me? I know exactly who I am, and I know exactly what I’m capable of. Kalidah’s just another obstacle, and I’ve been knocking obstacles down my whole career. I’ve come too far, worked too hard, to let some guy in a mask stop me.”
The rain pounds harder against the windows as Roy leans forward, his tone turning colder, more intense.
Roy Vezina: “This isn’t just about the PMLL title. This is about proving to everyone—Pollo Road, Kalidah, the fans, the Ambush—that I’m the guy. I’m the one who takes the top spot. And when Golden Road is over, when that bell rings, I’ll be standing in the center of that ring with my hand raised and that championship around my waist.”
Roy stands up from the booth, tossing a few bills onto the table for his coffee before glancing back at the reporter.
Roy Vezina: “Kalidah’s time is up. And I don’t care how many nightmares he throws my way, because I’m the one turning them into reality.”
With that, Roy turns and walks out of the diner, the sound of the rain fading as he pushes open the door and disappears into the stormy night. The reporter watches him go, furiously writing the last few lines as the scene fades to black.