Post by David Hunter on Jun 21, 2019 9:59:29 GMT -5
We go backstage, per the usual, where David Hunter, per the usual, is dragging himself down the hallway, per the usual.
He has obviously just left the arena if the sounds of Kyle Shane's music playing in the background aren't clear. He looks down to the ground, beginning to speak.
David Hunter: Just another week huh?
David glances up and sees the camera. With validation that his words are being heard, he continues.
David Hunter: Yet another Trauma goes by, another show, and here David Hunter is, eating his crow like a Vic Mignogna matriarch.
David looks away, spitting out a wad on the ground.
David Hunter: Maybe it's me, you know? Maybe...what I'm doing isn't enough. Maybe I'm too focused on the crowd. Maybe I'm too focused elsewhere. Or maybe, just maybe, David Hunter just isn't good enough.
He continues to stumble down the hallway. A trip-up leads the cameraman to step forward, but David holds up his hand, causing them to step back where they were.
David Hunter: I'm fine, I'm fine. I've been through worse with worse people. It's just...I can't...not be good enough...because if I'm not good enough...than it's the same old shit. Kyle Shane on top, Dominator near the main event, the same old wrestler holding that piece of gold...and a Hunter...floundering near the bottom like a dying fish. Because...if I'm not good enough...than none of what I've done makes a difference. None of what I say means a goddamn thing, and if I have to go out there, give my all every--single--fucking--week...and all I walk away with is pain and suffering...than I don't know if I can continue doing this.
David continues walking again, using the wall as a crutch once more.
David Hunter: Sicko's the King of the Underground, and just when I want to put him behind me, old rivalries come back up. And yet again, I find myself facing an insurmountable target. Yet again I find myself trading barbs with this jack-ass. Yet again I have to contend with a guy who doesn't respect anything, let alone me or the Underground division. Yet again...I find myself in a losing situation. If I win, I beat Sicko, but he gets a rematch and I'm stuck, yet again, in the Underground. If I lose...again...I've lost to Sicko...again...and find myself stuck, yet again, in the Underground. It's a fucking cycle with this place.
David stops near a door labeled "Medical Personnel." He leans against the wall next to it, his breath heavy and exhausted.
David Hunter: If I'm not good enough than everything is for naught. If I'm not good enough than this place lives on to die an early death. If I'm not good enough...than fuck it, I might as well have let the bullet hit me.
David takes a few moments to collect his thoughts.
David Hunter: It's not about having to be good enough. It's about needing to be good enough, and I know as soon as Sicko hears this he'll go off on a monologue denouncing me in every way possible, eviscerating me verbally until I go crawling back to mommy...but quite frankly...it's not even worth it, man. Let me...let me check with the doctor, I don't care.
David turns out, putting his hand on the doorknob.
David Hunter: All right, speech is over. You can head on back to your desk.
The door opens, David enters, the door closes.
The camera sits there for a couple seconds before fading away.
He has obviously just left the arena if the sounds of Kyle Shane's music playing in the background aren't clear. He looks down to the ground, beginning to speak.
David Hunter: Just another week huh?
David glances up and sees the camera. With validation that his words are being heard, he continues.
David Hunter: Yet another Trauma goes by, another show, and here David Hunter is, eating his crow like a Vic Mignogna matriarch.
David looks away, spitting out a wad on the ground.
David Hunter: Maybe it's me, you know? Maybe...what I'm doing isn't enough. Maybe I'm too focused on the crowd. Maybe I'm too focused elsewhere. Or maybe, just maybe, David Hunter just isn't good enough.
He continues to stumble down the hallway. A trip-up leads the cameraman to step forward, but David holds up his hand, causing them to step back where they were.
David Hunter: I'm fine, I'm fine. I've been through worse with worse people. It's just...I can't...not be good enough...because if I'm not good enough...than it's the same old shit. Kyle Shane on top, Dominator near the main event, the same old wrestler holding that piece of gold...and a Hunter...floundering near the bottom like a dying fish. Because...if I'm not good enough...than none of what I've done makes a difference. None of what I say means a goddamn thing, and if I have to go out there, give my all every--single--fucking--week...and all I walk away with is pain and suffering...than I don't know if I can continue doing this.
David continues walking again, using the wall as a crutch once more.
David Hunter: Sicko's the King of the Underground, and just when I want to put him behind me, old rivalries come back up. And yet again, I find myself facing an insurmountable target. Yet again I find myself trading barbs with this jack-ass. Yet again I have to contend with a guy who doesn't respect anything, let alone me or the Underground division. Yet again...I find myself in a losing situation. If I win, I beat Sicko, but he gets a rematch and I'm stuck, yet again, in the Underground. If I lose...again...I've lost to Sicko...again...and find myself stuck, yet again, in the Underground. It's a fucking cycle with this place.
David stops near a door labeled "Medical Personnel." He leans against the wall next to it, his breath heavy and exhausted.
David Hunter: If I'm not good enough than everything is for naught. If I'm not good enough than this place lives on to die an early death. If I'm not good enough...than fuck it, I might as well have let the bullet hit me.
David takes a few moments to collect his thoughts.
David Hunter: It's not about having to be good enough. It's about needing to be good enough, and I know as soon as Sicko hears this he'll go off on a monologue denouncing me in every way possible, eviscerating me verbally until I go crawling back to mommy...but quite frankly...it's not even worth it, man. Let me...let me check with the doctor, I don't care.
David turns out, putting his hand on the doorknob.
David Hunter: All right, speech is over. You can head on back to your desk.
The door opens, David enters, the door closes.
The camera sits there for a couple seconds before fading away.
