“Wait for it.”
The man who knocked obliged and waited a few more seconds. He then got tired of waiting, and knocked three times yet again, this time calling out for who he wanted.
“Mr. Ikeda! There’s a matter that needs your undivided attention.”
Without skipping a beat, the door suddenly opens. The camera turns around to show Dolph Ziggler on the other side of the doorway looking at the man who knocked.
“I was here first. But don’t bother, Wes is probably busy with something else, I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes and haven’t heard anything from him. But, I guess you could give him a message, right? What’s your name, bro?”
The man’s voice was almost inaudible, any ounce of courage he had seemed to have vanished. Ziggler reassuringly put his arm around the young man’s shoulders, and now the camera could easily pick up the size difference between them. Ziggler was, by a wrestler’s standards, more on the smaller side. However, next to normal humans, he looked like he was seven feet tall, one could say that fact was impossible to be taught.
“M-my name is…”
“Your name is…”
“My name is…”
“Don’t tell me you’re the real Slim Shady, everybody’s been looking for you for years, man!”
The young man took a deep breath and said, in a very low volume and with little belief:
“Richard, Mr. Ziggler”
“Richard. I’ve been waiting for a long time for this meeting with Mr. Ikeda. So here’s what we’re gonna do, I know you’re gonna look for him, I know you’re gonna find him, and when you do, tell him to book me on Warfare, alright? Sitting on my ass back in Cleveland is furthering my career, maybe standing up in an EBWF event will, it worked at Wrestlemania, it’ll work again. So tell him that, okay?”
“Okay, Mr. Ziggler.”
Richard turned around to walk away, but Dolph called him out once more and turned him around, superkicking him in the face, sending his headset flying into Wes Ikeda’s office. Dolph kneeled down and said to a hurting Richard:
“Sorry, bro, nothing personal, but you blocked my meeting. Tell Ikeda that kick was a message to whomever he chooses to book me against.”
Dolph grabbed a bag of ice and tossed it at Richard, before walking away and into his locker room ending this segment.
The scene faded into a shot of Renee Young backstage at EBWF Warfare, she was standing backstage, outside a locker room door that read “Dolph Ziggler.” She knocked, and he immediately was heard a bit loudly.
“Just a minute!”
Renee obliged and stayed outside, but opened the door very slightly, and put the microphone up against it, so that it would pick up the conversation the, up until then, was only heard through mumbles and soft muttering. Dolph’s voice was heard clearly, with short pauses, that probably indicated a response on the other side.
“I know it’s complicated, but you have to let the past go… I know, we had good times, there were laughs, and hardly a dull moment, but you and I just clash too much…”
Renee looks at the camera, having realized this was an awkward moment.
“No, I haven’t been to her place, I haven’t even been in Nashville… I’m in a better place, now and… What do you mean happily?! That’s a really impertinent question, and quite frankly, you’re being rude… No, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, I’ve been on edge lately and… The cheerleader costume?! No, I’m not wearing the cheerleader costume… BECAUSE THAT’S NOT ME ANYMORE! You don’t even know who I am!”
An even more awkward silence deafened the surrounding area, as Renee mouthed “Cheerleader?!”
“Goodbye, Vince.”
The door suddenly opened to reveal a smiling Ziggler on the other side, face to face with Renee, who stumbled for a bit, as she wasn’t expecting the door to open without warning, they both glanced at each other awkardly for a while. After regaining her composure, she started her interview, as Ziggler smiled on, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I am here backstage at Warfare with Dolph Ziggler, who seemed to be having a tough time with a phone call just now, anything you can tell us.”
“Nope. But, in other, completely unrelated news, my contract might be coming up in the next few months.”
“Are you teasing a departure from EBWF?”
“Wrong again, I’m just updating everybody on my contract status. Not that it matters, though, most people don’t even remember I have a job to begin with. It’s all over twitter along with whatever “Saeler” is.”
“You mentioned Twitter, some speculate that your disgruntled tweets got you this match, do you believe this to be true?”
“I do, actually. I’d love to talk myself up as the best invention since Sliced Bread, and I know I am all that… Sadly, management doesn’t seem to think so. I had to get their attention to get a match at Wrestlemania, and I stole the show as I always do. Now, months later, they seemed to have forgotten how good I am.”
“There have been rumours that you are being punished for insolence with this match against Cesaro, who is said to be a veteran who knows his way around the ring who can end a match at any time. Would you agree with this?”
“I think, if management really wanted to punish me, they’d fire me, suspend me, fine me. Management gave me a chance, I know I give them hell all the time, but they are not that bad, they give chances, unlike some other places I’ve worked. This match against Cesaro isn’t punishment, it’s a shot. A shot at redemption, and proving every doubter wrong. A shot to climb back up the ladder and take my place at the top once more. A shot to be the very best like no one ever was. So what if Cesaro is a tough opponent? I am tougher. As much as he can try to break me down, he never will. I know what he’ll say. He will say I’m all flair and no substance, but on Warfare I will prove him and everyone you doubt wrong, and you can bet your ass I’m not throwing away my shot.
Dolph turned around to walk away but quickly walked back into the interview spot, grabbing the microphone.
“Show. Off.”
He walked out of the frame again, having given the microphone back to Renee Young, who wrapped up the interview up to end the segment.