Some of the HWA staff brief him on what transpired after his sudden collapse, and he begins formulating a plan to turn things to his advantage. He knew some of these reporters would be like vultures if they sensed any sort of weakness and he sought to squash any doubts about his physical and mental wellbeing straightaway.
He walks with purpose through the curtain, sitting down in front of the sea of microphones placed across the tablets. As soon as Butch sits front and centre, he looks out upon the gathered mass of journalists, camera crews, bloggers and social influencers ready to record every word he says. There's an air of uncertainty and concern in the space between them, and as he opens his mouth to speak, no one quite knows what to expect. He clears his throat, adjusts his microphone, and finally speaks.
(Butch): Listen, before I go ahead and answer of your questions, I’d like say something. Earlier on, I experienced a anxiety attack right before I was due to come in here and address you all. But rest assured, I am absolutely fine, I’m fighting fit…. Now… If any of you here today decided to peep your head through that curtain and seen me lying on the ground struggling to breathe and my wife panicking next to me as a medical professional tried to help me and the first thought that came to mind was “I’m not going to help, I’m going to film this and post it on my Twitter timeline”, please stand up.
There is a long, awkward silence in the conference room, save a few polite coughs from some who try to break the tension. Butch smirks to himself, shaking his head.
(Butch): No one wants to be brave, huh? I get it, it’s just the eyes of the professional sporting world on you and you don’t want to admit to the world that you’re tasteless, spineless f***s, do you?
Off camera behind the curtain, Red Dragon and Hans watch through a slit and whisper to one another.
(Red Dragon): Guess we’re down the rabbit hole then…
(Hans): Mein freund, forget the rabbit hole, he’s way off the deep end now.
Back in the room, Butch still sits, his emerald green eyes scan the room at the journalists none of whom want to make eye-contact.
(Butch): I’m not answering a single f***ing question until any of you arseholes who thought you’d film me as I lay there literally gasping for breath, feeling like there Andre the Giant himself was standing on my chest instead of offering help, stands up. At Havoc tonight, we had some incredible moments, some “what-the-f***-moments” and some incredible matches. Tonight deserves to be about everyone back in that dressing room. We should be talking about Jeremy Branson beating a former IWGP World Heavyweight Champion, we should be talking about Matt Miller taking a former HWA World Champion to his limits, about William Draconis and Stu-E Price kicking off the first Havoc in eight years, about Michelle Learner and Sarah Callahan having the first competitive women’s match in HWA in fourteen years.
Look, I get I’m the elephant in the room right now but not one single person here deserves a single word about my thoughts on tonight when half of you would rather record a grown-man having an anxiety attack than help him. And you know what? That f***ing hurts me. I’ve given you all headline after headline in my own in-ring career, I’ve given you all countless hours of my own personal time and when I needed someone to even just make a goddamn phone call or offer my wife some help, not one of you gave a flying f***! Now look, my legal department has also issued out a cease-and-desist order so if any of you even think of posting whatever you recorded, I guarantee we’ll know before you can even check your comments section. So save yourself the bother and any further embarrassment and leave my arena now.
After another long, awkward moment, four journalists out of the group stand up and slink out of the room, trying not to be seen.
(Butch): Great, good riddance. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. What a night that was, wasn’t it? Who’s got a question?
(Reporter #1): Butch, there’s so much ground to cover tonight. What are your first thoughts on your first show as company owner? We seen footage of you arriving here earlier helping out with the backstage side of things. Are you always going to be as hands on?
(Butch): I…
Butch stops before he can finish his sentence. He takes a big breath in through his nose. The medics that helped him earlier have concerned looks on their faces as they watch on in the background. Butch catches their eye and gives them a subtle shake of his head to let them know he’s fine. Just then he stands up from his seat, pushing it so far out, it topples over.
(Butch): You know what? I’m incredibly proud of every single member of my roster tonight. Every man and woman that competed tonight brought their A-game and then some and I couldn’t have asked for more. I will address the other key events from Havoc later when my lungs don’t feel like they’re on f***ing fire. None of you deserve anything from HWA tonight, instead, every single man and woman in that locker room deserves your thanks and your appreciation. We’re done tonight, all of you get the f*** out of my arena.
Butch storms off, rampaging through the curtain, past Hans and Red Dragon as the scene fades to black.
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