Gabriel, still feeling the after-effects of Hans' "Black Forest Driver", doesn't quite storm up the ramp but it is clear he is not happy with himself. Michael, his younger brother tries to keep pace, offering a sympathetic hand, placing it on Gabriel's shoulder. The two walk in silence towards the backstage and once they reach the Archangels locker room, Gabriel smashes a fist into one of the metal lockers before sitting down aggressively on one of the benches.
(Gabriel): Stupid, stupid, stupid!
A frustrated growl leaks from Gabriel's throat as he sits back; slamming the back of his head into the locker he has just punched.
(Gabriel): I should've seen it coming! I got sloppy and I my concentration went, how stupid can you get?!
Michael's face remains impassive but he feels for his sibling. He relinquishes his arms-across-the-chest look and takes a seat next to his brother.
(Michael): Gabriel, I think you're selling yourself a bit short. You're an incredible competitor, I don't think anyone will doubt that after tonight, but Hans is World Champion for a very good reason.
Gabriel's anger seems to be dissipating now, disappointment and regret taking its place.
(Gabriel): It's not just that, Michael. It's just…I knew I had him, he was staggered, I hurt him. If I'd only channelled my aggression a little bit more…
Gabriel doesn't finish his sentence straight away, merely lowering his head, resting his elbows on his upper legs.
(Gabriel): …who knows…this was my chance at proving I'm not a mindless powerhouse that can only go in one direction…
(Michael): To be honest Gabriel, but who gives a shit what people think? We're the number one contenders for the tag team titles; don't forget that in a hurry. You gave an extremely impressive account of yourself out there against Hans; you should be bigging yourself up, not beating yourself up. You had your first singles match in what? Three years? Against the very best the HWA's singles division aswell, and you gave as good as you got.
Gabriel sighs, nodding.
(Gabriel): It's just a bitter pill to swallow, that's all. I'll be over it tomorrow.
He turns his head to look at his brother.
(Gabriel): Thanks, brother.
Michael raises a single eyebrow, managing a smile along with it.
(Michael): You better not be getting all soppy on me.
Gabriel musters a smirk, even allowing himself a light laugh.
(Gabriel): Not on your life. Anyway, like you said, we're the number one contenders for the tag team titles. Eddie K seems to think that it's going to be a cakewalk for Anton and Davis.
(Michael): I wouldn't pay too much attention to what Eddie K says, Gabriel. The man is a little too pre-occupied with the latest rendition of the New World Order to actually have any clue about how capable we are of beating any tag team that's placed in front of us in this company. I'm sure both the Sons of Anarchy and Anton and Davis themselves can attest to that.
Michael stops for a moment before continuing.
(Michael): The tag titles will be hard to tear from TNT's grasp though. Evers losing his Spotlight Championship could be blessing or a curse. Time will tell whether losing that belt makes him more focused on retaining the tag team championships or whether it's the start of a downward spiral for him and Shakir as a collective unit.
(Gabriel): I guess time will tell.
(Michael): That it will. We'll need to be one hundred percent ready no matter what though.
(Gabriel): I think it's safe to say that's a given.
Michael gives an affirming nod before standing back up straight, adjusting the wrinkled-up sleeves on his t-shirt, placing them back down over his biceps.
(Michael): Anyway, I'll give you some time to get showered etcetera. I'm going for a wander around the arena. Give me a call on your cell when you're done and we'll head to the hotel, hopefully the restaurant hasn't closed; I'm starving.
(Gabriel): Will do, Michael. I won't be long.
The two brothers fist bump as Michael takes his leave from the locker room and Gabriel heads to the shower as the scene concludes and fades out.
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