Biding my time

[Damian Priest]

We are in a fancy looking place. Drapes, red carpeting and in the middle of it is sat Damian Priest with a sly smirk on his face. On the other side is Michael Cole who has notes in front of him, seemingly to ask Priest. Cole looks quite uncomfortable but begins to ask his questions.

"Thank you for joining us. I know you don't have a match at the upcoming Warfare show but I just wanted to get some insight in what your thoughts are so far in this King of the Ring tournament. First, you had a very impressive debut winning your King of the Ring qualifyer against both Rey Mysterio and Pac. What are your thoughts?"

Priest smirks, feeling obviously quite pleased with his win.

"Well, I'd like to thank you for allowing me to participate in this interview. I'm sure you went through hell and high water to get a chance to discuss the most important topics with me. I'm just so humbled and blessed to be in EBWF and be able to compete against the very best this business has to offer."

This takes Cole by surprise, not really expecting such a rather sincere opening statement.

"Uh, sorry but after everything you've said and done so far suggests the opposite. That you ..."

Priest bursts out laughing, not really meaning what he said.

"You should of saw the look on your face when you thought I meant that. Seriously, Rey Mysterio and Pac should of felt privileged getting into the ring with me. I told you what would happen but people like you are so ignorant to the fact you are watching greatness in front of you that you didn't believe me. You thought one of Mysterio or Pac already punched their ticket to the next round. How naive can one person be?"

Cole cuts him off.

"So you are discrediting the wrestling resume of Rey Mysterio? The talent of Pac? They could of ..."

Priest raises his voice.

"Could of what? Beaten me? Are you kidding me? Are you even aware of what I'm sitting on?" Rubbing his hand across the armrest of the Throne. "This is the Throne. MY Throne to be blunt. This tournament is already a formality but people just don't care to admit it. I'm already where I need to be. But the others need to make a paycheck and give the EBWF fanbase false hope that'll be anyone but me. Let's be honest here, Do you see Andrade standing a chance against me? He can't even get out of his own way. Elias? Are you joking? When was he considered a threat? And before you get on about CM Punk, he is nothing more than a has been. Sure, he likes to label himself the voice of the voiceless but when that voice keeps sticking his foot in his mouth, how good is being a voice if it's silenced?"

Rattling around some papers, clearly Michael Cole wants to move on.

"Is there anyone that you would consider as you perfectly stated 'a threat' in this tournament?"

Priest smiles, knowing Cole is trying to get under his skin.

"Yeah, Eva Marie. Heck even Ronda Rousey could give me a run for my money."

You can see that Cole is getting frustrated not getting a straight answer.

"Come on Priest, be serious."

Priest regains his composure, rubbing his chin looking like he seriously thinking about it.

"So, I've thought long and hard about it ... There is noone that is worthy enough of stepping into the ring with me and actually standing a damn chance against the Archer of Infamy. But we have talent that I feel could elevate my name and career with more exposure and more fame. Names like Zelina Vega, Winter, heck I even saw Becky Lynch in the back. There's always room for a female version of Infamy. But let's talk facts, since you are all about that. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when I win this tournament and prove what I've said all along, I will be YOUR King and you will have no choice but to respect my name. You will have no choice but to accept the fact you will see my name and this face on posters, billboards, the front of EBWF trucks and events, any kind of advertisement I will be there. If you don't like it, GET USED TO IT!"

Tossing his earpiece away, Damian Priest gets up, visibly annoyed he feels he is being overlooked. Cut