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+--- Thread: Warfare Aftermath (/showthread.php?tid=11405)
Warfare Aftermath - Colt Griffin - 03-27-2014
A broken, battered and half conscious Colt Griffin is taken down off the wall from whence he was nailed to by the backstage staff and helped to the trainer's room. He says not a word, but his eyes could write a book. He just stares at the wall, even as the glass is removed from his scalp and his wounds are tended to. Eventually he makes his way back to the locker room, only to sit on the bench, brooding over the night's events. Like a statue, he remains there the entire show. Until finally....
"No one makes a fool of me! No one disrespects me like that! No one!"
He declares through gritted teeth. His blood boils just at the thought of those black and white colors. He quickly stands up and with all the strength from every fiber of muscle he tosses the chair across the room. He also begins to repeatedly punch the drywall, the sheet rock crumbling with every blow. His knuckles are now crimson with blood and dusted in a fine white powder originating from the dry wall. He doesn't even feel it. All he feels is anger and hatred. Needless to say this has attracted the attention of others in the locker room and many have come from outside to see what the commotion was. Cautiously, Steve Sayors makes his way over to Colt, microphone in hand and camera in tow...
Steve - "Um...Colt?
Colt slowly turns his head over his shoulder, a fire still raging in his eyes
Steve - *gulps* "...Colt, can you comment on what happened earlier tonight?"
Colt - "Can I comment on what happened? CAN I COMMENT ON WHAT HAPPENED!?" He grabs Steve by his jacket lapels "I GOT MY ASS HANDED TO ME BY A BUNCH OF HAS BEENS IS WHAT HAPPENED!" He lets go of Steve, and even straightens out his jacket for him so that he can take a second to collect himself "When Mr.
signed me to the XWF, my goal was simple, to win the title and dominate the sport of professional wrestling. Now I've got a different priority, and that's to systematically dismantle the nWo, one by one, piece by geriatric piece. Hall, Nash, Savage, Hogan...you have no idea the hell that has been brought upon yourselves. Now get out of my face you Geraldo wanna-be."Colt raises his hand as if to backhand Steve and the backstage reporter and his cameraman quickly scamper out of the room. A chair can be heard slammed into a metal locker before the camera fades to black.