CONTENT

Title: Uncover Your Eyes
Featuring: Quinlan
Date: Sunday, Sept 20
Location: San Juan, Puerto Rico
Show: Wrestleshow #45

San Juan is nothing short of paradise; The weather magnificent, the people friendly and the spirit of fighting was well alive. For a professional wrestler, this was always somewhere near the top of the bucket-list of places to fight.

It wasn’t all that bad for the other onscreen talent, either. Jennifer Williams certainly wasn’t squandering the opportunity to bask in the Puerto Rico sunlight. While she waited for the latest interview assignment, the also-Victory play-by-play voice, sipped at her Long Island iced tea. Her eyes were cast at the beach-goers just a stone’s throw from the porch of the bistro she sat on.

The gentle cough of the man standing at the other end of the table pulled her in. And intrigue lead to confusion, the 5’6” man impractically dressed in a rolled white oxford, tweed vest and grey slacks wasn’t who she expected.

“Madam Williams, was it?”

“Miss Williams,” she corrects him.

He just smiles, thinking he’s offended her with the first words from his mouth. After an awkward beat, he casts his eyes all around, looking for something.

“So, the big lug isn’t here yet?”

“Wait, who?” she barely gets out before he slides into the seat posted acrossed from her. “I am sorry, who are you?”

A practiced, cool and almost charming smile.

“Grady Patrick. I thought Quinlan was scheduled for his interview, oh…. three minutes ago now.”

Taking one long drag from the stiff tea, praying for steeled nerves, Jenn moves the stray strands of hair from in front of her face. Not the flirty hair play, but the ‘I am totally going to be serious,’ look.

“Yeah, ugh, he was. You don’t know where he is do you? My producer has been calling him and getting nothing.”

“No need now, love. I was more than a little shocked you people bothered to ask him to pose for a set of Q and A. That’s why yours truly made himself down to this impossibly humid Hell. Between my client and myself, he falls a little short as an orator.”

Maybe, just maybe if she looked around once more, Quinlan would finally show up and she could get this work assignment over with. A turn of the wrist and a check of the time was her last plea.

“Fine, let’s just get this over with.”

And she waved to the cameraman, who had passed the time zooming in on the sculpted bodies on the beach. Okay, it took more than one wave, but finally she got the thumbs up and the red light.

“Hello members of the UTA Universe, I am sitting here with…”

“Grady Patrick, proud agent of the man that is about to land the latest blow on an already reeling Dynasty this Monday when Claude Baptiste Ranier falls to the Man now free from the Mask, Mitchell Quinlan.”

Somewhat taken aback by being cut off, Jenn leans in to assert some control.

“Alright, let’s start right there, Monday Night. Six matches, six opportunities for the Legacy Championship. Why should we believe that your client has what it takes to claim one of those spots?”

Grady shakes his head, all too ready to correct Jennifer Williams’ assumptions.

“Firstly, lass, my client practically has a first round bye in this hudge pudge attempt by UTA brass to run it’s promotion. CBR is…”

And before she knew what she was saying, Jenn felt the need to interject.

“CBR is the longest running Internet Champion in the UTA’s combined history. Claude is a dangerous man that dealt the blow that put the previously unstoppable force called Alex Beckman on the shelf. And maybe more dangerously, is that he is a founding member of the most influential group of men to band together… and I can’t believe I am running off the resume of that jerk.”

Grady flashes that dismissive grin first to the camera, and then back to Ms. Williams.

“And you think any of that is supposed to cause my client pause? Let’s run the redband trailer on that early Hall of Fame induction you just ran down. CBR is the cocaine addict that walked away from his title reign to chase the White Devil. Ten minutes into an intense battle with the World Champion, it took Claude, three of his posse members and a pipe to beat up a woman. A woman!”

Yeah, that one irked Jenn something fierce.

“But it isn’t any of those, but that last one. Have you any idea how butt hurt CBR must be after Jackson smacked him sideways with that case? And this is a guy that ‘allegedly’ is used to taking it in said butt.”

Jenn’s face cuts read as she turns back to the camera, waving her hand under her chin, calling for the filming to stop. She stands from her seat, turning back to Grady.

“I am sorry, this just isn’t going to work.”

“I am spinning gold for you here, lass. What exactly about this should hit the cutting room floor?”

She turns her head away from the oncoming confrontation, but Grady wasn’t one to ever take the hint.

“Was it the line about the Quebecor using his rear as something other than an exit only?”

The camera has picked up on the modest blond locks and Pittsburgh Pirate #21 jersey, tardy though he may be.

“Well, it’s about time, Q.”

“All apologies, Grady. Sorry about the wait. I got a little held up; the masses run a bit longer here than they do back home.”

Grady doesn’t pull himself from his seat, the only man sitting in the scene.

“Always with that? Rather than prayer to the Good Lord, Almighty, maybe you owe me a touch of thanks. This one was ready to bail out of this surefire trainwreck.”

Feeling the sudden weight of blame cast upon her, Jenn turns back from the short pow-wow with our camera operator. A splash of relief upon her face in seeing the interview subject.

“Quinlan, are you ready to get this over with?”

Pulling out the left arm he has kept tucked behind his back, Quinlan extends the humble bouquet of reds, purples and lily whites.

“And the other reason I was a little late. A wise man once told me to never leave a beautiful woman waiting, not at least without some flowers in hand.”

Surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere his presence brought, or just the idea that she was receiving flowers from one of her co-workers, Jennifer Williams seems a little flush. The consummate professional she buries all of that behind a short smile to the camera.

 

Uploaded to WrestleUTA servers at Sunday, September 20, 11:59:59 am, PST

A panoramic shot of the coast bursts into the frame, crashing waves and sunbathers. Slowly it turns to focus on the familiar sight of Jennifer Williams, a cut white lily in her hair for the tropical touch.

Williams: My guest today is one of the more fluid personalities on the UTA roster today. He has gone from an indie darling in Las Vegas, to the main event of the very first Victory show, back into obscurity. He came back one year later under a mask, proclaiming himself a champion for the faithful, only to ditch the mask after a hard defeat at Ring King. Ladies and gentlemen of the UTA Universe, Mitchell Quinlan.

Stepping into frame is the 6’3” Quinlan, the top three buttons of his Roberto Clemente jersey left undone to compensate for the sweltering heat of Puerto Rico. He offers a friendly, but not exactly smiling, look with the camera.

Quinlan: Sure does sound like a complicated mess of a story when you break it down like that. Throw in the idea that I have only competed in eight matches and people are going to get the notion that I am a man without substance.

Williams: Well, what do you say to people who do say that? People like the man you will be facing this Monday on Wrestleshow, Claude Baptiste Ranier?

Quinlan shrugs his shoulder, but doesn’t look at a loss for words.

Quinlan: To those people, I must admit I have had a somewhat loose relationship with honesty. I have been trying to be what I heard the Faithful crying out for. I wanted to bring something beautiful for the chaos in that ring. I thought I was failing, so I tried adapting the next thing. The only thing I was doing was lying.

His head ducks as he lays out this editorial on his past three months in the business.

Quinlan: I lied to myself, but that wasn’t the sin. And if it was, it is certainly forgivable. What I keep beating myself up about was the idea that I took this holy thing the Faithful made, their energy and only gave them back a false hero. For that, I am looking forward to showing Ranier just exactly how authentic I can be.

Pulling back the microphone, Jenn keeps this pace moving.

Williams: And is this what is about for you now? Honesty?

Opening his mouth, he stops and rubs the back of his fist along his chin. Measuring his words before he continues, there is a three second pause.

Quinlan: Monday night is about the same thing it has always been about. That thing that happens between those ropes and fight, and the Faithful fight along with me. That part was never a lie, Ms. Williams. I am counted as one of the Faithful, just that I am lucky enough to be the one that gets to be in the ring, living this dream.

Williams: With every winner of the matches this week on Wrestleshow moving on to a number one contenders match up of some sort, what would getting an opportunity at the Legacy Championship mean to you?

Almost as if the idea of being a champion was above him, Quinlan shook his head before continuing.

Quinlan: If I am able to go on, it’d be something awesome to know that I kept a title away from Dynasty. It means the Legacy title could potentially be saved from the uninspired grip of power hungry rudos. Saved the same fate as the UTA World Championship.

If he had a drink, he might be tempted to pour some out for the hostage title.

Williams: What were your thoughts as you watched Sean Jackson violently break away from the group he helped build? Since you don’t seem to like the way Dynasty operate.

Quinlan: I was underwhelmed, really. Jackson proved later that night that he was still a self centered egomaniac. But the idea that there is one less man to play bodyguard to LFB’s title reign makes me a little hopeful.

Williams: And you referenced earlier in the week how you felt that this betrayal of the brotherhood Dynasty had is going to play games with CBR’s mind?

Jennifer’s mention of the amature at best production brought a grin over Quinlan’s stubbly face.

Quinlan: It has to, which is a pity of sorts. Canadian v. Canadien ought to be one Hell of a battle. And Claude can pay me all the lip service he wants, but he is a liar. Sean Jackson will be on the back of his mind, if not the very forefront. Claude, I want your best. You’ve got something to prove to yourself? Fine. I’ll bring all that I have, and you won’t see it coming.

Williams: Any last words you wanted to give to the UTA Univ… Faithful?

He taps his right hand over his heart before he starts.

Quinlan: Thank you all. I will never take for granted the highs you give me, and this Monday is time to get going again. From this day forward, I will not let my actions be decided by any past thing, but what the right thing is. More than anything, I think it is time I stopped talking. Time to shut up and fight.



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