| Welcome to Reality; POTW II, Jurgen Johanssen [feat. Maggie McIntyre] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 23 2016, 08:06 AM (27 Views) | |
| Michael Draven | Jun 23 2016, 08:06 AM Post #1 |
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EWA Minority Owner
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pleased to meet you hope you guess my name Albany, NY Saturday, June 18, 2016 - 7:17 PM He stood there, a box of chocolates in one hand and a bottle of Jameson in the other, looking like a drowned rat. It had started pouring down rain only minutes ago, heralding his arrival like some little black cloud of doom. Michael Draven just looked...sad. And right then, no matter the animosity that had been brewing over the last two weeks, Maggie McIntyre didn’t have it in her to be mad at him. Perhaps the talk with his older brother would yield good results. Perhaps. Maggie just stared at him for a moment or two before taking a step back to usher him inside. He was dressed so nicely, but the rain had thoroughly soaked him on the walk from the Jeep to the door. This motel wasn’t the greatest, but it was quiet and out of the way. She’d stayed here as a child with her mother when they fell on hard times. It wasn’t always forever. Usually just a week or two before money would magically appear in her mother’s account, the rookie knew now where that money had come from. Her father hadn’t been allowed to see her, but he wasn’t going to let his daughter live in a goddamn motel because her mother was irresponsible with money. She went to the bathroom, snatching a dry towel off of the rack and held it out for him. He toweled his face off, shaking his head in the process - and spraying water all over the rookie’s face. She stared at him, incredulous...and then burst out laughing. A moment later, he joined her. In that moment, it was like they’d never been apart. “I missed you.” Maggie’s smile didn’t fade, but she didn’t move to embrace him either. “I missed you too, Mike.” He was soaking wet and… “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the show. I didn’t know if I wanted to see you.” The smile faded a little then and she wrapped her arms around herself, dark brown eyes looking up to him. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again after I ran out like that and yelled at you.” He sighed, leaning back against the closed door. “Of course I do, Maggie. This business…” He shook his head, trying to articulate his thoughts on the drive over from Buffalo. “This business has a way of bringing out the worst in people. That person back at my condo, that’s not the Maggie I know...the Maggie I fell in love with. I know we’ve known each other for a relatively short time, but I can say that fairly confidently. And look...this is my fault. I got you involved in all of this mess. I wouldn’t blame you at all for walking out on me.” “I’m sorry.” She moved to sit down on the edge of the king-sized bed, keeping her gaze locked with his. “I got myself involved the moment I talked you down from that ledge. The second I got close to you, I made myself a target.” It wasn’t a bad thing and her tone let him know that. “I don’t know what the hell is going on in my brain half the time, but I don’t like fighting with you. I just want us to be happy...and I want the Havens to spontaneously combust...and the rest of the Youth to be plagued by some flesh eating virus until they look like Quasimodo, but...I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I miss you.” Maggie brought her legs up to her chest, looking over at the chocolates and whiskey he’d brought. He knew her well enough by now to get her exactly what would make her feel better. “I’m sorry I left like I did.” “I’m sorry for not being there for you, for your match against Indr--” “Stop.” Her eyes widened, her voiced a little panicked. “Don’t talk about him. I’ve had no nightmares for almost a week...just don’t talk about him. I don’t want him to have the power over me anymore.” He smiled at her. Perhaps the time apart had been good for her, if she’d been able to exorcise the personal demon that was Indrid Calder. “I’m glad to hear that. You look...beautiful. More beautiful than usual - I can tell you’ve been able to sleep.” Sleep had been a problem for the rookie, ever since this mess with Calder had began. She didn’t want to tell him that the only reason she’d been able to sleep for a week now. There was no reason to tell him. Maggie was able to sleep and that was all that mattered. She just laughed, “Yeah, the bags under my eyes aren’t so dark. So I don’t look like a raccoon who hasn’t slept in a few centuries.” The daughter of Ed Johnson heaved a sigh and looked him over again. He was a sight for sore eyes, even looking as miserably sad as he did all soaked. “You should change. You look nice and all...and thank you for the gifts, but you’ll get sick if you stay in wet clothes.” He’d bought a new shirt and pair of jeans at the Crossgates Mall before coming here...he wasn’t about to explain why he had over a week’s worth of dirty clothes with him, and nothing clean to wear. The fact that he’d been in Buffalo following the Youth around since Battlelines XIV probably wasn’t the best thing to mention right now. “On one condition...come home, Maggie. Please. The condo feels empty with you around.” He cursed himself internally for lying to her - he’d barely been there since she’d left. “We can stay until morning here, if you’d like...but I want you to come back to Boston with me. Will you do that?” Maggie couldn’t help the little chuckle that left her mouth. Erik Draven had talked to his brother, apparently. “You’re staying the night here with me, I’m not going back today.” The rookie held out her arms for him. “Come here, Mike.” He breathed a sigh of relief. Things were finally back to normal. He crossed the room, taking her into his arms, kissing her softly. “Let’s not spend this much time apart if we can help it.” The pale brunette returned that kiss with one of her own and pulled back, laughing again. “You’re still all wet, Doofus. You get changed now, while I open that bottle of whiskey...and you can spend the next couple of hours showing me exactly how much you missed me. Deal?” He raised an eyebrow. She was not normally so forward about their bedroom activities....unless she was under the influence of something, of course. He chalked it up to their being apart for the last few weeks...and besides, was it really a bad thing? “I like the sound of that, Mags.” He quickly left the room, heading to his Jeep to grab his bag. When the door closed behind him, she let out a sigh and looked over to the duffel bag on the luggage stand. It had taken nearly two weeks for her to be able to figure out a way to sleep. She reached over for the bottle of Jameson and unscrewed the cap, taking a few deep swigs. The only way to beat the devil in her head was not to stand in his path, but to move to his right hand. Maggie rushed to pull off her sweats and tank top, bringing her legs up to her chest to hide herself. It was the best way to keep him from asking questions. He came back in, even more soaked now, to the sight of her impish grin and naked flesh. A welcome invitation. “On second thought, if this is how you’re going to greet me, maybe we need to spend more time away.” He grinned, crossing the room to her. Michael shed his clothing as he stopped at the foot of the bed, gazing down at her with a hunger he hadn’t know for weeks. She was so beautiful. He kneeled on the edge, leaning over her to capture her lips again. Maggie opened her legs for him, wrapping them around his taller frame and he spent hours showing her exactly how much he missed her. And she repaid the favor. Over and over again. "Welcome to the EWA, Jurgen Johanssen. Please allow me to formally introduce yourself. I'm Michael Draven, the man that's going to teach you what professional wrestling is really like at Path of the Warrior. It seems your 'fearless leader' has things a little mixed up, my friend. Allow me to take a moment and explain this situation to you, so that you can better understand where I'm coming from. Osbourne Kilminster has had a problem with me since the day he and I first met. He's blamed EWA management for his own individual failures. Blamed me for his own individual failures. He claims he can wipe the floor with me and that I'm ducking him, yet it was Michael Draven who defeated him at Battlelines XI in the twelve man tag that helped wrestle control of the EWA away from the corrupt Duane Gates. He claims that I ducked his challenge by stepping up to you and seeing if you had the sack to step into the ring. One thing he's correct about, though, Jurgen...I did turn the tables on him. He had this impression that I answer directly to Erik Draven, when the reality is that I answer to no one. I'm the man that put my own brother through a trophy case, and your master suddenly believes that I'm simply going to kowtow to him? It doesn't work that way, Jurgen. So I decided to play his game by challenging you. The mighty Jurgen Johanssen. The man we've aired massive hype videos for before ever even seeing him step into the ring. Quite frankly, I want to see if the hype is real. You're freakishly large, Jurgen. I have no doubt that you're being coined "The Juggernaut" by your peers in The Institute for a reason. But the question you have to ask yourself...are you ready? Are you truly ready for this? You've been training relentlessly under Kilminster since before you even arrived in the EWA. You've been a visible presence at his side from Day #1 here. And yet you've never engaged in a single moment of physicality within the confines of the EWA. You've never raised a fist to anyone, never locked up with anyone. You're the closest thing we have to a mystery. At Path of the Warrior, I want to open that neatly wrapped package, and find out what's inside. Osbourne Kilminster has sheltered you from the public's eye. He's kept you hidden deep in the recesses of The Institute, and sure, we've seen little peeks here and there. You towering over Sinclair, planting him to the mat with a move. Manhandling a trainee. Running on the treadmill. All things carefully crafted, carefully designed to show us that Jurgen Johanssen is a monsterous, intimidating physical specimen, and that we should fear the day when he's finally unleashed onto the EWA. I know nothing about you, Jurgen. I know nothing of your past. Nothing of your present, really. You're a great mystery to me, and I like that. This match, at its core, has little to do with the mutual dislike for one another that Osbourne Kilminster and I share. I'm curious about you, Jurgen. You and Shaun Sinclair are the prized pupils of one of the greatest warriors this business has ever known. The man who crippled The American Champion, Chip Masters. The man who put a complete and total end to the dominant reign of Jada Kaine. And he determined you weren't ready to compete in a battle royal. Because make no mistake about it. We can dress it up with nice and fancy terms such as "The Warrior's Trial" in our marketing department, but at its core, the Warrior's Trial is a battle royal. And it's certainly a grueling match, make no mistake about that. I'm not here to demean it, or the two warriors who have emerged victorious thus far in those contests. But a man of your size...of your absolute phyiscal presence? Matches like the Warrior's Trial are made for men like you to dominate. To smash bones, tear flesh, and destroy those who stand in your way. You would've been declared one of the heavy favorites without even being seen in action prior...and he pulled you from it. That tells me there's a flaw. A glaring weakness that Osbourne Kilminster doesn't want the world to know about. I'll level with you, Jurgen. I played the game with Osbourne, and I lost. I expected him to hold you back from accepting my challenge...to publicly humiliate and shame you by telling you that you weren't ready. He out-manuevered me. Don't take that to mean I'm afraid of you. I'm not. I'm excited about the opportunity to step into the ring with a completely unknown commodity, one who's been hyped for months. This isn't an opportunity that arises every day. Here's where this becomes a problem for you, Jurgen. Your master underestimates me. He underestimates me because he capitalized on an opportunity to ambush me as a surprise opponent, defeated me, and sent me through a steel entrance ramp. Your master considers me a washed up, weak in-ring competitor whose best days are behind him. I assure you, Jurgen Johanssen...Osbourne Kilminster knows nothing about Michael Draven. He knows nothing of what he's unleashed upon you. But I'm going to show him...and I'm going to show you. Consider Path of the Warrior your initation to the world of professional wrestling, Jurgen. This business isn't about partying, screwing groupies, getting drunk after matches and training. It's about sheer brute force. It's about willpower, determination, fortitude, and heart. It's about blood, bruises, and broken bones, and I will deliver those to you in spades. The contracts are signed, Jurgen. There's no being pulled from this one. You will step into the ring for the first time ever, and you'll do it against Michael Draven. Not the Michael Draven that's been following Alexander Haven around, waiting for a match. Not the Michael Draven that lost to Osbourne Kilminster thanks to interference from the entire Youth. You're facing the Michael Draven that once set Ray Willmott on fire. Ask him about it. He'll tell you. You're facing the Michael Draven that's the sole reason that Erik Draven has that slight limp when he walks now, and those scars on his face. Welcome to the EWA, Jurgen Johanssen. Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm the last man you'll ever compete against." Afterward, she slept. Falling asleep before him was extremely rare, and he took the opportunity as he faced her, lying in the motel bed with the old, creaky springs, to watch her sleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths. She was the one piece of stability in his life. He just had to find a way to maintain his relationship with her, while getting the revenge he wanted - needed - against Alexander Haven. He would conquer his demon. He would defeat Haven once and for all, and move forward with her. After all, she’d done the same with Indrid Calder. She’d faced her demon during their time apart and vanquished it...he owed her the same in return. Smiling, he rolled over, facing away from her as to not disturb her sleep, and turned the light out. A moment later, Maggie McIntyre opened her eyes. |
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10:51 AM Jul 11