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empireofsamoa · 6 years

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Matter of Respect. (3/12/2018)

When the clock struck 8PM Eastern (7 Central), the anticipation rose to a high degree within Roman. He was anxious for this night, to the point that he was pacing around wherever he was, unable to catch a moment of calm because he knew he had a storm coming his way in the near-300 pound Heyman-led beast. It had been the moment the company was building up for the past three weeks following his win at Elimination Chamber but the past two times, Roman didn’t get his wish of having a one-on-one faceoff with the Universal Champion. Be it Brock and Heyman flatly not showing up or him in the ring with just Heyman, the one person he wanted to be face-to-face with just hadn’t been around for that. However, this week, he took Heyman’s word that Brock was going to be there, finally.

Finally, after all the incendiary talk fired the champion’s way by The Guy, Brock was going to do something about it and put his two feet in the ring. At least that’s what everyone had assumed heading into Raw on Monday. More importantly, that’s what Roman was anticipating given his threat of violence against the Universal Champion should they come within arm’s length of one another. It was all he could think about over the last week; all he could talk about to and with others and it was finally here...except it wasn’t.

He felt during the day that something had been off. Something wasn’t right. Whenever he’d ask if Heyman and Brock showed up, he wasn’t getting a straight answer. It was typically an “I don’t know” or “let me check with the parking guy”. No clue what the whereabouts of the champion and his advocate were heading into showtime. And even as he stood in Gorilla, stoically cracking his knuckles, he only got a non-committal answer from Vince and Shane as they sat in their chairs and watched Kurt Angle march out to the ring, accompanied by trumpets, horns, and a customary “You Suck!” chant that’s more endearing than derogatory.

“I wanna take us to the Universal Championship match: Brock Lesnar versus Roman Reigns, which will be a match for the ages. But as far as tonight is concerned, unfortunately, I was just told that Brock Lesnar would not make it here tonight. I was told he might’ve had transportation issues or he just wasn’t feeling well or just decided not to show. But regardless, we’re gonna have a great show tonight!”

In no time flat, his blood began to boil.

Whether it was a trait he was blessed with or cultivated over time, Roman never let his anger show that much on the outside unless pushed. Unless he was made to look like a fool. Unless he was blatantly disrespected. And he stood behind the curtain, eyeballing the screen, jaw clenched, both fists balled up tight before he just acted on impulse and motioned that he was heading to the ring. He didn’t know what he was going to do, just that he was going to do something and not let this disrespect go on any further.

And so he was in the ring, railing against Brock for his lack of respect toward the fans, the men and women backstage and the Universal Championship that had become abundantly clear over the last 330-something days. But then he turned his ire toward the chairman of the board, knowing in the back of his mind that there was no going back once he decided to verbally assail the patriarch of World Wrestling Entertainment. Which is why he continued to push and push once he got behind the curtain and in the face of the 70-something year old billionaire, routinely shoving Shane out of the way. His beef wasn’t with Shane, so much so that he barely registered as a blip on his radar.

“Let’s go talk about it. Let’s go talk about it in my office.”

That was all Vince said as he hurried his production staff to cut to commercial break to avoid any other calamities that could potentially occur if this impromptu summit were to be shown live on television. Either he didn’t want dirty laundry exposed for 3 million people to see, or he didn’t want another Wrestling With Shadows moment to occur some 21 years later.

“What the hell was that out there? Huh? Trying to make an ass outta me? The company?”

Once the door to Vince McMahon’s office had closed, neither man took a seat. The tension was already on high the moment they stepped inside, both men proud and combative, bordering on being confrontational in a situation that calls for cooler heads to prevail. And given they had boxed out just about every other person that could’ve been inside with them (road agents, producers, Delilah and Shane), this wasn’t looking like it would be the case.

“I’m tryin’ to figure out why Brock’s wasting my time and disrespectin’ me. That’s what the hell is happenin’, Vince.”

“Brock isn’t disrespecting you; he’s--” It was at this point that Vince was cut off by Roman immediately getting into the older man’s face, a mask of defiance and righteous indignation forming over the younger Samoan’s face.

“--Bullshit. Three weeks in a row, the son-of-a-bitch doesn’t show up; how do you think I’m supposed to take it other than as disrespect? How do you think I’m gonna take Heyman lyin’ to my face last week as anything other than disrespect? Is this what it’s gonna be til Mania? Is that how it is?”

It was a sticking point for him. He had to know what was going on and no one could really blame him. This was one of the biggest matches of his career and it was looking like his opponent was showing off that he largely did not give a shit about it. Something many people could empathize with Roman on, blatant lack of respect and care when it came to the biggest event of the year and it grated him immensely.

“Now, look; you need to calm down, damn it. I can assure you that this isn’t how it’s going to be, and quite frankly, there are better ways to handle your disappointment rather than going to the ring and airing your grievances. That can’t keep happening, and you know that.”

“Hah…”

It was a laugh that was one void of humor. The kind born from being so angry, so upset that you have no choice but to have some sort of reaction that wasn’t blowing up like an overworked smokestack. His reaction caught the elder McMahon off guard, not expecting it to happen.

“Why...why should I listen to you when you weren’t even man enough to tell me what the deal was in the first place? I had to find out like everybody else that Brock wasn’t here. Couldn’t give me a heads up or nothin’? What else are you hidin’ from me, Vince?”

“Now, listen here…”

“Unless you tell me why you’re coverin’ for Brock like you’re his little bitch, there’s nothin’ for me to listen to.”

And in typical Mr. McMahon fashion, his eyes went buggy as he stared at the challenger for the Universal Championship. Even in his old age, he thought that if this was 20 years ago, he would’ve swung on Reigns for his fiery candor. And maybe he still would’ve today if he didn’t have the foresight to see that this would’ve been the worst move to make given the younger man’s current disposition.

“Now, look here, pal,” McMahon extended his index finger into the face of Roman, “I don’t take that kinda talk from my own family, much less someone employed by me, you got that?! I don’t know what’s gotten into you but you need to cut the shit out and calm down. WrestleMania is four weeks away, Goddamn it, and I can’t have you flying off the handle because you didn’t get what you wanted. Bad enough I have Cena throwing a hissyfit because he didn’t get his ‘dream’ match.”

With his jaw clenched tight, Roman rolled his eyes at what McMahon said, this currently lecture annoying him more and more as the seconds ticked away.

“And since you want to get outta line and make an ass outta management, I’m going to have to take action. What’s that idiom your cousin always use to say? ‘Know your role and shut your mouth’? Well, you’re gonna have to do just that because effective immediately, I’m temporarily suspending you.”

“For what?! Tellin’ the truth?”

“For conduct detrimental to the company.”

Roman let out a breath that sounded more like a deep growl as he balled his fist up tightly upon hearing this news. If he didn’t want to further escalate the issue, he would’ve cold clocked the old man right where he stood. Would’ve offered him some much needed catharsis but would’ve also caused more problems than they were worth so naturally, he decided against it.

“Now...go get your things, go home and clear your damn head. We’ll call you when your suspension is lifted.”

Not bothering to share any eye contact with the man, Roman turned and swiped his hand at a cup of pens that were at the end of the desk as he walked toward the door of the office, sending them down in a messy clatter. Grabbing the doorknob, he pulled the door open and immediately began heading out, seeing Renee out the corner of his eye with the microphone extended but rather than staying, he just walked off without a word. It was better that he didn’t; he didn’t even hear a word she said and it would’ve been even more disastrous if he unloaded on her when she was merely doing her job as a journalist.

Still, he was brooding. If it were three years ago, he would’ve done something more impulsive as a means of letting out his anger. Something more irrational but he didn’t. Instead, he just took his lumps and thought on what he needed to do in terms of a plan because he needed one once this suspension was over. But for now? He was just going to have to deal with and accept the lack of respect from the champion, his advocate...and apparently, his boss, too.

#( chronicles )#( c: matter of respect )#( backdated )#((hey remember when I wrote things?))#((well here ya go! have some of this))#((obviously I took what WWE and put my own spin on it because hey why not?))

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