The bell rang as Jeff Hardy’s hand was raised in victory. Hardy celebrated as his music played in the background. The crowd cheered loudly for Hardy as Roman Reigns rolled out of the ring, selling his defeat. He limped up the ramp, a hand placed over his abdomen. He made his way up to the ramp, passing through the curtain. His posture shifted back to normal once he was completely out of the audience’s view. As he made his way back to the shared locker room. It was pretty silent backstage. Not so much as a clap for the match. He started loosening his wrist braces as he pushed through the door. A frustrated growl escaped his lips as he sat down on one of the benches. After taking a few minutes to decompress, Roman changed out of his wrestling gear and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his bag. He tied his hair back and grabbed his things, heading out of the locker room with every intention to leave before the show was even over. At the last minute, he decided to head over to find Paul Heyman, who was currently in charge of coordinating live events. He had the intention of writing down his house show schedule for the month so he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. He saw Paul browsing the vegetable plate at the catering table. Grabbing a few celery sticks for himself, he nodded in Paul’s direction.
Roman Reigns: Eating healthy?
Paul Heyman: Oh, yes my friend. My daughter is now old enough that she can dictate my diet strategy, so vegetables it is.
Roman smirked as he took a casual bite out of a celery stick.
Roman Reigns: Hey, I was hoping you might have my house show schedule for January available. I was late a couple times because I didn’t write it down ahead of time, so I want to get it taken care of early.
Heyman stopped looking over the catering table and quickly glanced around the room, taking note of all the people still scurrying about with the show going on. He turned to look up at Reigns. He exhaled and cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Paul Heyman: Joe, do you mind if we talk in private about this?
It was a bit of a red flag, but Reigns nodded. Heyman ushered Reigns into a private office that had been set up for him at the arena. When Reigns passed through the threshold, Heyman closed the door. Paul folded his arms as he sat on the corner of table that served as his desk. He looked up at Reigns, who had opted to remain standing.
Paul Heyman: This isn't really my place to say, and I imagine they're probably going to call you soon, but I wanted to give you a heads up.
Reigns shifted his weight a little.
Roman Reigns: What are you talking about, Paul?
Paul Heyman: Joe, you don't have a schedule for the month of January.
Reigns, who went by Joe Anoa'i for those familiar with his family, furrowed his brow as he considered the implications of Paul's statement. That only could really mean one thing.
Roman Reigns: Am I... am I being fired?
Heyman shook his head.
Paul Heyman: They're bringing in some EBWF veterans that are going to work the house show circuit, so some spots had to be moved around. I'm going to be honest with you, Joe. You're not exactly lighting the world on fire here.
Joe put his hands on the back of his head and paced slowly. His demeanor soured quickly.
Roman Reigns: I've been working hard, Paul. It's not like I've been going out there and taking naps every night.
Paul stood up. He gestured towards Roman, acknowledging his comment.
Paul Heyman: Of course. You wouldn't be here otherwise.
Heyman put his hands together as his picked his words carefully.
Paul Heyman: Joe, when you got a contract with Vince over there in Connecticut, he saw the look that he likes and family heritage he could market. You're an Anoa'i, and you're six foot three. You're his wet dream. I cannot tell you how much it does not work that way here.
Joe folded his arms with a raised eyebrow.
Roman Reigns: What's your point?
Paul Heyman: Vince took notice of you because of your looks, and he pushed you. That's how it works there. If you want to be anything here in the EBWF, you're going to need to stop working for Vince McMahon and start working for Wes Ikeda.
Joe sighed defeatedly. Paul was right, the culture here in the EBWF was completely different than what he was used to, and he was flying under the radar because of it. His opening match at Christmas Eve of Destruction where he put Jeff Hardy over in less than five minutes was more than enough evidence of that. He was amazed he had even got a PPV match at all. Joe took a seat. He looked at Paul.
Roman Reigns: What do I need to do?
Paul, sensing that Roman was finally getting past his own pride and was willing to accept input now, decided to make the best of it.
Paul Heyman: Look. Wes Ikeda, more than almost anyone else that works here, is a mark for this business. He doesn't subscribe to the WWE notion that you have to find a guy with a good look, build the company around him, then try to fill in the blanks. He won't build anything around a guy that has gaps. He doesn't care that you look like a Samoan Randy Orton. Wes Ikeda doesn't know you. You need to make him know you. That's not going to happen if you keep treading water the way you've been.
Roman Reigns: I can add more high spots to my matches, Paul. If that's what it takes I can do that.
Paul Heyman: It's not just your in-ring work. You're good. I know you're good, the fans know you're good. They don't have a reason to care about you, so all the big power moves in the world aren't going to land if people aren't plugged into what Roman Reigns is all about. You need to work really hard on your promo and find what works for you. I can even help you with that. Brock, despite the fact that I am his mouthpiece, is actually a fantastic promo, and I think his delivery would work for you. We'll even be in Minneapolis next week, so he'll be in town. The fact is, you need to get people off their seats in the arena, and if you do that, Wes is WILL take notice. It's as simple as that. Wes can make money off of anyone that gets the crowd going. Bottom line - you need to show up ready to be the top guy. I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't think you were capable of doing it.
Joe stood up. He looked down at Paul and extended his hand.
Roman Reigns: Go to bat for me. Please. Give me a couple weeks and I'll turn this around.
Paul grasped Joe's hand and shook it.
Paul Heyman: You know, I got to work with your dad a lot when he was still in the business. He's the reason I know you've got more than enough talent to shape this company the way you see fit.
Joe smirked.
Roman Reigns: Well, let's focus first on making sure I still have a job in February, then we'll get to all that.
Joe parted from Paul's company, heading out the door of Heyman's private office. It wasn't the meeting he wanted, or the information that he was expecting. But it was a wake up call. One that he would need to take seriously if he wanted to continue his wrestling career into 2016.
A dark match concluded at the Target Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The crowd was already shuffled in, eager to participate in a live EBWF Warfare show. Before the cameras rolled, Roman Reigns' theme music thundered out of the speakers within the arena, causing a mixed reaction amongst the fans that were seated. It was an impromptu occurrence, and the crowd stood up as Roman Reigns appeared at the top of one of the middle sections of the building. He descended down the steps in his flak gear, being patted by the crowd in closest proximity. With an emotionless expression on his face, he got down to the bottom and hoped the barricade, stopping to grab a mic from the timekeeper. Reigns ascended the steps and got into the ring, looking out at the thousands of people in attendance. A mostly positive reaction from the crowd welcomed him. Roman twirled the mic a few times and rubbed his goatee before bringing the microphone up to his mouth.
Roman Reigns: You know, in my time wrestling, I've been called a few things. Samoan Superman. A silent warrior. All these little nicknames that people give me to try and describe what Roman Reigns is. And it's all cute and all that people are tryin' to find something for me that they can slap on a lunchbox and sell at a merch stand. They look at me and they say "Hey man, he's tall and big, and he's a guy we can put in a suit and march onto the red carpet and make us look good." That's not me. That's not who Roman Reigns is. I looked at that life, and what that meant to me, and I decided that I was better than just being some companies clueless little poster boy. So I came here, to the EBWF.
The crowd cheered at the mention of the company they had come to see. Roman nodded appreciatively.
Roman Reigns: But man, when I got here - it wasn't as easy as it looked. You all saw what happened at Christmas Eve of Destruction. Jeff Hardy wiped the floor with me. So, here's what is going to happen. Tonight, I'm refocused. I let that other bush league promotion convince me that all I had to do was come out here and look good, and that everything would fall into my lap. I know now that anything worth having, you have to knock some punk ass out for.
Roman brought his tattooed arm up to eye level and showed his fist to the crowd.
Roman Reigns: This pattern on my arm? It's a coat of armor. When you see it across the ring from you, it means you're going to war. After tonight when you think of Roman Reigns, you're gonna think of guys like PJ Black who wind up picking their own teeth up off the ring after this fist connects with their jaw. You're not going to think of nick names or taglines. You all are going to find out tonight who Roman Reigns really is. PJ Black is going to find out who Roman Reigns is. And you... can believe that.
Roman's music blasted out of the speakers as the crowd cheered for the newly refocused Roman Reigns. Roman raised his arms to the crowd from the second rope of the turnbuckle. He headed out of the ring and back up the ramp. His fists were tightly clenched. If Wes Ikeda wasn't noticing him now, he sure as hell would after tonight.
