[He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, begging to escape from behind it's cage and skip gingerly across the tiled floor of the locker room. He had yet to wipe the smile - that formed the moment he heard his name announced as the winner of the match - from his face, and he doubted there was not much that could cause it to fade away into obscurity. He had come in, a man with no name, and defeated the man that answered to the name given to those who didn't have one.]
[It was a strange feeling, this euphoria of emotion that made him feel light headed, but there was little doubt he would trade it for anything short of more success. Beaming, he lifted his head and nodded.]
Aran Dishon: I know it was just one match, something forgotten by most of the fans the moment I walked back behind the curtain, but it was something I doubt I'll ever forget. This could be considered my first real match, and to come out of it with my hand raised in victory against someone of Doe's caliber means more to me than anyone will ever know.
[He blushes slightly, and his eyes seem to wander around and avoid making contact with the camera.]
Aran Dishon: It's kind of messed up that no one but me is going to care, that bringing it up will only get me laughed at by the rest of the roster. What does that say about people when their best defense against someone being proud of a victory, is to puff out their chest and say that it wasn't against them, so it doesn't matter.
[The smile is still there, but the sudden shrug of his shoulders as he shakes his head gives a slight hint that he isn't particularly happy about what he just said.]
Aran Dishon: I'm new here - new to the sport - so I'm not going to have a grocery list of stuff to harp on about, but what I do have is confidence in saying that the win over John Doe proved something to me. It proved that I do have the ability to compete inside that ring with anyone this roster has to offer. Will I win every match...
[His voice trails off, as his smile is altered just enough to be considered a grin.]
Aran Dishon: I'm confident, not stupid. I know it would be freaking awesome if I would, but I'm not going to hold my breath and expect it to happen anytime soon. No, I'm going to take it one match at a time, deal with the hand that is dealt to me, and hope I'm the one collecting the pot at the end.
[Aran lifts a sheet of paper off of the bench, holding it up to give it another quick glance. He knows exactly what it says though, he memorized the name of his opponent the moment the stage hand gave it to him.]
Aran Dishon: I've already been signed up for another match, and I have to say that I'm excited and a bit nervous all at the same time. Olvyr Asvinnair...You'll have to forgive me if I'm not pronouncing it right, but I'm not quite caught up with the history of everyone here and your name isn't one of the ones I recognize.
Aran Dishon: From what Tom, the stage hand, told me, you're a pretty big dude that dresses up like a viking. Or you are a viking. He wasn't too sure, but he assured me it was one of those.
[He kind of shrugs it off, like it wasn't really too important whether Olvir was a viking or not.]
Aran Dishon: Well to you, sir, I say good luck. Not in a threatening way, mind you, but because I actually wish you all the best. I'm not the kind of guy to wish anyone ill will, but I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that it didn't cross my mind that you might accidentally fall down a flight of stairs and maybe slightly injure yourself.
[He winces and mouths the word 'sorry'.]
Aran Dishon: Yeah, that was probably a bit too much. Anyway, I'm gonna hit the showers. Hopefully karma doesn't come back and bite me in the butt, causing me to slip and hurt myself.
[We fade out, Aran's wide grin the last thing seen.]
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