"Damn it all! That close!"
The EPW cameras fade in to the interior of Key Arena's back hallways. Posters of women's basketball games, rock concerts, and even a wrestling event or two line the halls, but the camera is focused o one man roaming the halls, Donovan Astros. After his defeat at the... well, not hands, but feel of the Escape Artist, "Dopesmoker" Erik Black, Astros's shouts have more of an 'goldangit' feeling than that of any anger. More like the one that got away.
ASTROS: In the ring I dominated him, but he just slipped out and ran. Argh! Now where the heck is my dressing room...
Astros comes up across the main EPW locker room, and a list of names is on the door. The camera pans down the list... and it's every male competitor except for "Triple X" Sean Stevens and himself, and we know Stevens had his own private dressing room...
ASTROS: Wonderful. Where in the hell did those agents lead me earlier?
Astros continues to walk the halls, passing by the big star logo for Sean Stevens on his dressing room door, before stopping and laughing. The camera pans over, and a door marked "Janitor" has had a small piece of tape placed on it, and the name "Donovan Astros" scrawled out on it in Sharpie.
ASTROS: Whatever, guys.
Astros opens the door and his clothes bag is sitting in a mop bucket. A full mop bucket. Filled with rather dirty water. Astros angrily rips his bag out of the muck and unzips it, checking the end that was out of the water to see what's still mostly dry. He pulls out a hooded sweatjacket and puts it on, zipping it up and closing his bag. Astros looks at the camera and shakes his head like the camera's expecting a response, and then walks off as we fade out.
The EPW cameras fade in to the interior of Key Arena's back hallways. Posters of women's basketball games, rock concerts, and even a wrestling event or two line the halls, but the camera is focused o one man roaming the halls, Donovan Astros. After his defeat at the... well, not hands, but feel of the Escape Artist, "Dopesmoker" Erik Black, Astros's shouts have more of an 'goldangit' feeling than that of any anger. More like the one that got away.
ASTROS: In the ring I dominated him, but he just slipped out and ran. Argh! Now where the heck is my dressing room...
Astros comes up across the main EPW locker room, and a list of names is on the door. The camera pans down the list... and it's every male competitor except for "Triple X" Sean Stevens and himself, and we know Stevens had his own private dressing room...
ASTROS: Wonderful. Where in the hell did those agents lead me earlier?
Astros continues to walk the halls, passing by the big star logo for Sean Stevens on his dressing room door, before stopping and laughing. The camera pans over, and a door marked "Janitor" has had a small piece of tape placed on it, and the name "Donovan Astros" scrawled out on it in Sharpie.
ASTROS: Whatever, guys.
Astros opens the door and his clothes bag is sitting in a mop bucket. A full mop bucket. Filled with rather dirty water. Astros angrily rips his bag out of the muck and unzips it, checking the end that was out of the water to see what's still mostly dry. He pulls out a hooded sweatjacket and puts it on, zipping it up and closing his bag. Astros looks at the camera and shakes his head like the camera's expecting a response, and then walks off as we fade out.