A series of indecipherable grunts escape Gabriel's mouth as he continues to punish the metal material of the lockers before he eventually stops, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. He looks at the open wounds on his hands for a moment, breathing heavily before placing his hands on his hips and he allows his stare to cascade over to his brother.
Michael still remains silent, leaning the back of his head against the locker behind him before finally ramming the base of his fist against the prior-mentioned locker.
(Gabriel): "Dominated the entire match" "Not even in our league"
Gabriel scoffs, throwing his arms up in a disgusted manner as he quotes Draconis.
(Gabriel): Sons-of-b###hes…they needed THREE guys to beat us tonight.
Gabriel holds up his middle, ring and pinkie fingers on his left hand, emphasising the number.
(Gabriel): Three.
He notices that Michael still remains silent.
(Gabriel): Are you not even the least bit bothered by what happened out there?
Michael stands up, speaking for the first time.
(Michael): Of course I am, Gabriel, if you hadn't noticed, I'm the one who suffered the pinfall.
(Gabriel): There wasn't anything I could do to stop that, Michael, I was trying to make the arena stop spinning after that little cretin Fallen smacked in the temple with his pathetic championship.
Michael takes a deep breath, not speaking for a moment and he holds his hands up, palms facing outwards. He places one of them on his brother's shoulder acknowledging his plight.
(Michael): I know…Sorry….we shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves. We need to re-group quickly. Obviously Fallen and his little band of miscreants reckon they have some sort of run going, that they put the HWA on notice. But we will swiftly put that inequity to rest.
(Gabriel): We can't afford to direct our attentions away from the tag titles though.
(Michael): Big brother, you doubt us that much? The HWA has yet to see the Archangels for who they really are, Gabriel. They think we're low-key, staying out of the limelight. We will prove that we can fight a war on multiple fronts.
Gabriel nods in appreciation of his brother's newly-renewed zeal.
(Gabriel): As long as we get to beat the holy hell out of every member of the Sons of Anarchy, it sounds like a plan to me.
(Michael): I've got a funny feeling that Anton and Davis will prevail later this evening aswell. I think we should pay them a post-match visit don't you think, let them know of our intent.
(Gabriel): I couldn't agree more.
Michael eyes Gabriel's bloodied knuckles.
(Michael): You want to get them seen to first?
Gabriel looks from Michael to his bleeding hand and back up, with a smile on his face.
(Gabriel): It's only blood, brother; plenty more where that came from.
The two brothers bump fists as they exit the locker room and the scene fades to black.
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