Newark, New Jersey
The morning after Warfare and the hotel room which Eli Drake was taken into was full of cards and get well soon letters. He couldn't remember much about the night before, he remembered most of the match until it ended and from then on it was a blur. He woke up from his slumber in the hotel room, his head banging from the night before. His back stinging still and lacerations to the back of his arms. He looked around in a daze and went to sit up before falling back onto the bed. His mouth was dry and all he wanted was a glass of water. Again he tried to stand up and this time succeeded. Looking around the room for some clothes. He had no idea how he got back here, or how he was undressed from his in-ring attire and into a pair of boxer shorts he was sporting at the time. He opened the fridge and picked up a bottle of water, drinking it in quick succession. He opened his phone, looking at the twitter mentions, scrolling down the app he released that he had lost the match. It wasn't obvious, sometimes in the past he has had matches where it was so high impact he'd wake up the next day not remembering. He saw a clip of the match and watched it, live footage of him being powerbombed into the table, he sighed. Once again, another loss on his record. His start at EBWF wasn't going as he had planned.
He looked up from his phone and saw all the cards and flowers in vases, he slapped a vase off the table, ran his hand along the sideboard which made all the cards go flying and in turn taking out another vase all smashing to the ground, the floor was now covered in flowers and water and now wet paper from the cards. He sat on the stool at the end of the bed looking down at the floor and sighed. At that moment, his assistant Greg walked through the door.
Greg: Eli, man, what happened? You've ruined the room, do you know how much this is going to cost.
Eli: Why do you keep letting yourself in? What gives you the right to just walk into my goddamn hotel room without knocking? The audacity that you have to stand up to me and get angry with me about a freaking hotel room, seriously Greg. How about we focus more on the fact that I have lost every match I've been in since I joined EBWF. Can you tell me that, buddy? Can you tell me why I wake up after every show with aches and pains and still no win under my belt. Are you my bad luck Greg? Is that what this is? You're the grim reaper of my career.
Greg tried to respond before he was cut off by Eli.
Eli: Did I say you could talk? You work for me, you're not my friend, you're my assistant. You've worked for me for two months now, and you haven't done one thing productive for me. I need change, I need to start building some momentum or else I am going to go stale and the creative team are just going to shove me in the dark matches and I won't get any air time. How am I supposed to get a title shot with no air time, Greg? Tell me that.
Greg went to answer before being cut off again.
Eli: Don't answer that, Greg. You know what, bro, you're fired. I'm done with your bad luck cursing me throughout my time at EBWF. I need to make a mark and that mark is going to be next week at Warfare when I take on Dean Ambrose. Now get out, I have work to do.
Greg scurried out of the door and closed it behind him. Eli got his camera out of his suitcase and stood in front of it, quite close up, the HD captured all of his cuts and bruises on his face and his upper chest and neck area. He closed the blinds to give it some mood lighting, pressed the button he heard three small clicks on the camera. A red light appeared at the top of the device, he put his head down raising it slowly so the camera got all of his injuries.
Eli: The takeover of EBWF starts from today. For too long I have sat idly by and see other people get their success, I worked hard to get where I am, and if I am honest with you, I don't know whether it is the lights of the bigger arenas I work with here in EBWF, whether the talent is just so raw and fresh I can't keep up, or maybe I've just had bad luck, who knows... More importantly, who gives a flying f*ck. I don't care what anyone thinks anymore. I get beat up every week to try and get some momentum to keep me going so I can get a title shot, and they put me in undercard matches. Then, suddenly I asked for a challenge and my wish was granted as last night I went off against one of the greatest in the company. He worked his ass off in there and so did I, I have the scars, cuts, bruises and lacerations to prove what a fight that was last night. Props to you, PJ, you made it work in there.
He said rubbing his head.
Eli: That being said, the time for pleasantries is over. Mic drop right now, this is a takeover. EBWF is prime for the plundering, and I'm going to take control of it all. I'm not satisfied with being given scraps and told 'look at the feast I gave you' that's embarrassing, humiliating it offends me and it's not going to happen again. Let me just hit you with a fact of life so you know what is coming, the onslaught I bring with me will change the shape of EBWF, maybe the whole of the wrestling business itself. Soon the very nature of EBWF will transition into something undreamt of before. This place, right now, is my home. I'll be exerting all my confidence, my charisma into my next match with Dean Ambrose, let's call it what it is folks, a fact of life, what is coming will be absolute total, destructive, domination. No one will know what hit them, especially Dean Ambrose as he happens to be the first person on my list, unfortunately for him.
He said with a grin.
Eli: Once it's all said and done, folks, the whole of the EBWF universe will remember me, gone are the names of the past, the hall of famers, when someone mentions EBWF only one name will come to their head and that is ELI DRAKE. So listen Dean Ambrose, the lunatic fringe, get a haircut, get a bob cut or a buzz cut for all I care, but no matter what part of hair molecule is lunatic it hasn't met someone like me, it may have met something because I'm going to blow the roof off the building on Monday, I'll be like a hurricane, a tidal wave, a solar storm, causing a path of destruction right up to the door of the champion, and no one is going to stand in my way, not now, and not on Monday, Dean. I have nothing to lose, and you never fight a man who has nothing to lose.