As Michael swipes the key card, the door opens and they enter the main body of the room, the siblings make their way towards their respective bedrooms of the conjoined suite. A deep gush of air exhales from Michael nose as he dumps his carry-on luggage onto the bed, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his fair blonde hair. He calls through to his brother, his voice just loud enough to carry through the adjoining room.
(Michael): Well, Gabriel, that wasn’t exactly what I would call the most thrilling debut we are going to experience.
From his own room, Gabriel manages a small ironic smirk as he stoops his six-foot six-inch frame downward towards the mini-fridge in his room and pulls out two seventy-five millilitre bottles of Sprite. He twists the cap off one of them and takes a long gulp, releasing a refreshed sigh afterwards before exiting the bedroom and meeting Michael in the living room. He tosses his brother the other bottle of Sprite who catches it with instinctive flick of the wrist. He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment to his brother.
(Gabriel): That would be the understatement of the millennium, Michael. I was far too sloppy…FAR too sloppy…
Michael shakes his head dismissively through a swig from his juice.
(Michael): Don’t beat yourself up too much, brother. We were victorious and like they say, “that’s all that matters.”
Gabriel screws his face up in an annoyed fashion.
(Gabriel): Rubbish, Michael. That was our main chance of showing everyone around here what we’re really capable of. Any other tag team watching our match would see a mediocre performance against a piss-poor excuse for a tag team. Goddamnit!
Gabriel proceeds to throw his now-empty Sprite bottle across the room in frustration, before lowering his head and placing his hands on his hips.
(Michael): Gabriel, calm yourself. In essence, this could be quite beneficial. We just disposed of the former tag team champions with minimal effort and without them causing us much trouble. Yes, we can definitely use this to our advantage.
(Gabriel): Come off it, Michael; the Sons of Anarchy are pathetic! They couldn’t wrestle out of a paper bag. Former champions *Gabriel scoffs* what a crock of shit. We should have made an example of them and put the entire division on notice!
(Michael): Gabriel, your extraordinary talent for not listening to anything I say never ceases to amaze me. What I meant was, the likes of DNA, TNT and the like will probably not be too impressed with what they witnessed at Havoc, am I right?
Gabriel nods his head lightly, folding his arms.
(Michael): Then the liklihood of them looking past us as just another random tag team who just happened to get a lucky break just increased dramatically. Yes, we were probably a little more cagey and respectful than we’re used to being, but we mustn’t dwell on the past, Gabriel. We have a win under our belts and that’s more than we could ask for. Our next opponent’s whomever they may be will not be as easily disposable but we both know we have the talent and skills to be the best around here. Anton and Davis have already declared that this is going to be their last run as a tag team so they will be nothing but focused on dethroning Shakir and Evers aswell as us. Havoc was nothing more than an ice-breaker; now what these shark-infested waters are like.
Gabriel scoffs again at Michael’s mention of the reigning HWA Tag Team Champions.
(Gabriel): TNT…another waste of oxygen…I wish we could get our hands on them now.
(Michael): We will brother, don’t you worry; we will. But we must find our focus again and only beat the team that’s in front of us, it doesn’t matter who it is. After the next Havoc, we will have definitely caught the attention of our peers and we will be taken seriously and we will be on course to capturing the tag team championships. I promise you brother.
Gabriel smiles as takes off his sunglasses and rests them on the top button of his shirt.
(Gabriel): You’re a great talker, Michael; pity your wrestling isn’t as good.
Gabriel teases, punching Michael friendlily on the arm, who responds in kind.
(Michael): C’mon, let’s watch the DVD of the match and see where we messed up.
Gabriel puts on a sarcastic smile and gives a mocking thumps-up.
(Gabriel): Fun times…
Michael goes back to his room to find the DVD of Havoc’s card whilst Gabriel rummages around the living room for the remote to the fifty-inch widescreen television as the scene fades out.
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