As Stu-E Price looks down upon the brand new Tag Team Championship belts, the gold reflects the light of the room and illuminates his face as he thinks about the decision he’s been left with. Mrs. Shevington had warned him of what lay ahead, but every angle he thought of ultimately proved wrong. As he stares at the belts, the view fades to a picture of Senester.
“It would be quite the experience to pick Senester, learn from him what I can before ultimately meeting him one on one when it mattered down the road. The benefit of teaming with him would be having a better seat than anyone in this business to watch and learn from him. The downside being I’m not sure the guy would gladly accept the position as my tag team partner. With him it would have to be Senester and Stu-E rather than the other way round. It wouldn’t take long for him to screw me out of the Championship when he got bored of it.”
The picture changes to one of Michael James, his current arch nemesis.
“Now James, that could be a lot of fun, forcing him to be my tag team partner. He just admitted this week that I’m the only guy in the company who can go toe to toe to him on any day of the week. For that bastard, that’s the closest you’ll get to a compliment. Some of the most entertaining times in tag team wrestling have been when the Champions don’t see eye to eye, so there’s also that. It would be great TV for the fans, sure, but again I’m not so sure how long that would last. It would surely boil his piss knowing he has to work with me for the sake of a Championship belt, he’d no doubt turn his back and cheap shot me once the novelty factor wore off.”
Again the picture changes, to one of Bryan Deas.
“My old friend, the one everybody and his Mother expects me to pick. Just last week he managed to join the long list of people to defeat me in the past year or two. With him I know I can trust him at all times, with him I know as a tag team we can bring some good chemistry to the tag team division. But I also know he’s got his hands full with his drive towards both the All Star Championship and the World title. I would hate if I ended up distracting him from his ultimate aims.”
The view goes back to Stu-E looking at the tag team championships, he tosses them down on the floor, lays down on the floor of the hotel room and folds his arms behind his head in contemplation.
“I really haven’t got a clue who to pick, I’ve got a gut feeling the safest way would be to run a lottery and pick a number. That way there’s nobody getting upset, there’s nobody who can pick a fight with me if they don’t land on that magic number. But then, that would be a cowards way out.
I haven’t exactly lit fires during my time in HWA, sure I’ve the fans on my side but my win loss record is looking like it did when I was rookie. I don’t mind so much but every so often it bugs me, it would bug anybody who was a competitor. And now I’m the brand new tag team champion, about to pull double duty. Every single guy on the roster would be a worthy choice, I can find a million reasons to pick each one and a million reasons not to pick one. I guys I’ll have to sleep on it, and see what pops in to my head when I’m handed that microphone.”
Slowly the view moves away from Stu-E and focuses upon the tag team title belts before fading out.
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