Post by Evan De Parker on Jun 23, 2012 16:15:39 GMT -4
”Sometimes? I think all people like heavy metal just a little bit… Maybe there’s just that one song. That’s kind of what it’s like for me. Except it’s more like… ten. And all of them motivate me. Some pump me up in a different way, but they’re all motivation. And it puts me in the mood to run straight through anybody and everybody. And I’m not just gonna stop once they’re out of the way-- because it’s not about them. It’s about me. Double fistin’ peace all the way to the top, my friend, haulin’ ass all the way up that proverbial hill.
"But it's not just the music. I like metal everywhere I go. I like the rockstar I reaction I get when my music hits, whether the fans love me or hate me. I like the way they get goosebumps, or they get that sick feeling in the bottom of their gut. There's nobody in the world that can be in a room with me and not have some sort of feeling.
"You love me. Or you hate me. But you're thinking about me. And like a song, I'm stuck all up in your head. And that's how it starts, I mean: immortality. I'm still haulin' up that hill, man. And do you know what I’m gonna do when I get to the top?”
[/url][/I]
”Your winner! And STILL the APW North American Champion, Evaaaaaaan Envi!”
And with the artificial inclusion of a circuit breaker being powered on, we blink into color. Standing before us is Evan Envi, visible from the waist-up dressed in a red shirt advertising Atari. The scenery is unclear due to Evan encompassing the frame, but soon it is evident that we're standing outside in what we can assume is a field.
Evan smiles into the camera, an eerily omniscient look etched upon his face. He soon holds up one finger, disappearing from frame.
It's twenty seconds later when Envi returns to view, this time with the North American Championshp over his left shoulder. His eyes travel between the nameplate and the lens for seconds before he finally speaks, that same omniscient smile returning.
”Hey, Carmen. I hope you’re feeling better after Yarmouth kicked you in your face... And that's the God's honest truth, because I'll be damned if we lose our tag match this week because you couldn't seem to find your jaw. You understand why this match is important. YOU understand why we're in no position to screw up!
"I mean... Did you know there are people that think we're going to lose this? There are idiots out there that think we're not capable of beating Stryker and Lively. Too much manpower, they say. Hitman's riding a torrential wave of momentum and Lively? Well, he's JESUS reincarnate! So they've developed this idea that we're not good enough. And babe, I know I can only speak for myself but I happen to think that's just not so. I have some qualms with the dirt sheets and the guys in the back saying that we're gonna come up short on Meltdown. But I don't blame myself."
Evan opens his mouth to continue, but his eyes widen momentarily before falling half-lidded. He slowly purses his lips and takes a step back from the camera, as if coming to a grand realization. He taps his chin with his index finger, attempting to think.
"You know why there's doubt in the air. You're not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you're not a complete idiot either, Carmen. You dropped the ball twice, and you clearly didn't learn from the first time, ya know? I mean... You lose to Stryker, you deny it, and you literally proclaim that it never really happened. You go on and prepare for your matches each week as if that loss is fictional. And if it's just you versus Stryker, then that's all fine and dandy. I don't give a shit about how you prepare for your singles matches.
"However, skim the circumstances.
"When I see how you let your guard down and made the same mistake twice to lose the Battle Royal to him last week? I lose faith. I lose faith, and OH is it an inopportune moment for that?"
Evan points that index finger at the camera, shaking his head slowly.
"I need to believe in you this week. Sure, you're not as good as me, but you need to be better than them. I already know I am. And I've proved it against Stryker. So YOU need to show up, if your undeservedly inflated ego can step aside long enough to let you understand that. It's you that needs to make these strides and make sure we win.
"But don't worry. I haven't forgotten about me. I haven't forgotten that I've never faced Lively before. And although the same routine has been working pretty damn well for me every single week, I'm gonna go a little bit harder this week, because I know Lively's got somethin' he wants to prove. He wants to shit on my name, but it'll be a cold day in Hell before he grows the spine to get in my face. And while some people look at that as a man being weak, I look at it as a scared man playing a wise card."
Evan smirks and chuckles a bit, stealing a glance at the scenery behind us which still isn't quite clear.
"If I never have the chance to fight Lively, I never have the chance to scout him and feel him out in the ring. Last week he made sure I didn't get that opportunity." Evan shrugs. "So even though I have full confidence that I'm better, it looks like I'm gonna have to assume that this guy is World Champion caliber. I'm fighting Mike Lively, but I'm preparing for the Kurt Nobles. The Biggs'. The Jason Kash-esque talent of the company. Do you understand, Carmen? You should be more like me. You really should."
We hear the vague sound of something cutting through air. Our immediate guess based on our surroundings could be "lawnmower". But with time, the sound resonates with more depth-- we're able to distinguish that it's a helicopter. Evan steals only one brief look in its direction.
"I don't talk just to hear myself, okay? I really wanted this match. I already have one blemish on my record here in APW and I don't need you dicking around and making it two, like you've gone and done for yourself. If you can't figure out why you can't beat Stryker, then don't even get in the ring. Please, don't be confused by my smooth, elegant, and comforting voice. I'm judging you very hard right now."
He nods to the camera through half-lidded eyes, the way somebody might do in a small group if they're diverting their attention to somebody else.
"But Hitman? I never got the chance to say this but I appreciate you making that first visit to the main event, weeks back. Before you, people were criticizing me because my competition was a little 'light', if you will. But now? Well, with all the self-promoting you do, my win over you was probably my most meaningful since becoming the FIRST-EVER North American Champion."
Evan glances at someone off-camera, acknowledging for the first time that he and the cameraman are not alone in what we can still only assume is a field.
"What? Of course I was gonna remind them. Problem?"
"No... Forget I even looked over there."
The educated viewer may realize by the voice that Evan's accomplice is none other than elder sister Sienna.
"Didn't think so."
He pauses once more as the sound of the helicopter's blades grow gradually closer, passing by overhead. A half-smile forms over Evan's face as he gazes skyward. He slowly allows his eyes to drift back downward to the lens, no amusement behind his features.
"Stryker, you've proven that you deserve to be... Here. But let me remind you of something, you son of a bitch..."
Evan's light-hearted and aforementioned (and self-described), "smooth, elegant, and comforting" tone is replaced by an offended one. His pleasant and uninterested face morphs into an irritated grimace.
"You're not Evan Envi. And being Steve Stryker doesn't even put you on that level. You're damn good, and I get that. Hopefully my partner will follow suit and admit that you're the biggest known threat we have in this match. You're the one that's gonna throw a wrench in my plans, Hitman, but you're... the devil... we know. I know how hard you hit. How fast you move. How slow you move. And I did what I said I was gonna do on June 4th back in Greensboro. I became the first man to climb into that ring with you and expose some of your weaknesses. Just some though. But never you worry, Steve-O, because I'm gonna finish the job in Bossier City this Monday."
Evan smirks, but there is no humor or happiness held within it.
"I'm gonna go ahead and expose the rest, just in time for Test for the Best. Because I've got a hell of a problem with you being in that tournament instead of me. Who in their right mind decided that YOU deserved it more than I did? It makes no logical sense, Steven. I beat you, and I did it decisively. But I was overlooked, as per usual. I never even got the chance to be in it... And you did. So before you even say it-- yeah. I'm jealous. Yeah, I'm in envy. And I'm a dangerous man when you have something I want.
"I want your spot. I'm jealous that in APW the consolation prize for second-best is getting catapulted into the premier tournamet. It's unfair, right?
"So since Diamond likes to pretend that I'm not the hottest commodity in Action Packed Wrestling, I've been left with no choice but to take it out on you. All that frustration comes out in the form of..."
Envi takes a second to consider what he wants to say. He looks downward toward his hands before raising both fists, looking at each of them carefully, feigning a need for verification.
"I'm gonna beat you until you tell me that you can't take it anymore. Don't tell the ref, tell me when you give up. I fucking dare you to speak without merit again on MY show.
"If I recall, you accused me of being frightened like a child the first time we faced. All because I had the confidence to admit that you had talent. Sure let that one get to your head.
And look where THAT got you."
Evan frowns slightly.
"Everyone acts as if this title is a death sentence and I'm doing 25-to-life on APW's baby-brother show, but let's clear one thing up right now.
"I'm not ashamed of being the first guy to hold this title. I'm damned-sure not ashamed that I'm making waves and getting people like YOU noticed by the very people you're so anxious to lock up with on Overdrive.
"So I'm doing Meltdown a bit of an injustice by facing you this week. It's gonna hurt Diamond to see our representative for Test For the Best taken down by the guy he wouldn't even let in the preliminaries. But if that's what has to be done to make sure I succeed, then so be it. You're done, Steve. I don't say it if I don't mean it. And it doesn't matter who your partner is... I'm coming for both your asses, and I'm gonna get one of you."
Evan releases a deep breath, taking a few steps back away from the camera.
"Which brings me to your partner. My Jesus, Mr. Lively."
Evan continues to back away, and our camera pans out. We soon see that we're not in a field at all. There are no trees and no signs of life because we're on a heli-pad. This is made evident by the large yellow "H" carved into the sixty-by-sixty-foot stretch of asphalt, surrounded by yellow, steel grating. Our camera rotatoes slowly to show Sienna Harrison standing a few yards away, dressed in a flowing yellow sun-dress. Her hair begins to sway wildly in the wind as our helicopter begins to descend.
We pan back to Evan and we see that he is standing with his arms folded, looking thoughtfully and expectantly at the descending helicopter.
"And why run him down on-camera just like any old guy? This one... This one's special. Sienna, would you please?"
Sienna nods and stoops down, vanishing from our view ever-so-briefly before standing again revealing a megaphone clutched in her left hand. She walks to the edge of the steel grating. Our camera follows and we see the masses... Hundreds of men, women, and children are gathered around the unmarked building in Louisiana. We see banners promoting "Evan Envi's 24th Birthday Extravaganza!" People are eating, playing, drinking, laughing. Sienna speaks into the megaphone, commanding the attention of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The Louisiana crowd, well over a thousand feet below, cheers at the top of their lungs, anticipating Sienna's announcement.
"The birthday boy's got something he wants to say!"
By the time our camera pans back to Evan, he is making a running bee-line for a swinging rope-ladder.
He hops on, a microphone in his hand as the helicopter flies off of the roof, beginning to lower Evan toward the roof of another building, considerably closer to the crowd than the one featuring the heli-pad. Instruments and equipment are set up on this second location, indicating that a live band had been performing.
Soon, Evan is lowered to the roof and he leaps off with inches to spare, walking to the edge of the roof with that eerily omniscient grin on his face. Disregarding the mixed reaction of his "party guests", Evan raises the microphone to his lips, his voice projected through a PA system.
"First, happy birthday to me."
Our crowd roars, unveiling their true natures and honest feelings about the man, due to the influence of the beer and the liquor. Perhaps due to the group mentality. Evan simply half-smiles, that smug and condescending look present as he looks at them... Minions.
"And as my present to all of YOU, I'm going to do something that should have been done this past Monday in Mississippi. I'm gonna eradicate the man known as Michael Lively. And it's not gonna be a private affair. It's gonna be a PAAAAARTY, BITCHES!"
Another monstrous roar from the belly of the beast. Evan winces slightly. He can smell the hard liquor.
"The man claims that APW is the house that LIVELY built! And if he's your Jesus, then you're all his Disciples. And with th..."
Evan is briefly drowned out by a chorus of boos, much to his satisfaction.
"With that being said... You're obligated to follow the man that I vow to defeat this Monday. If Lively built APW, I'm the guy robbing his house. I'm the next guy to come out from the curtains and tear down the young buck. For all intents and purposes, I am YOUR Michael Lively. I am the bar. I have my own show and supporting cast, and while Lively looks at it as a hindrance, I look at it as something he wasn't ever able to do. He didn't command the attention of the masses on his own. Lively had to remind you all who he was and kick a defenseless woman in the face. He had to insult YOU and YOUR HEROES to get recognition. I already have that.
"The word isn't new. It's relevant. And Lively gets those confused quite often. APW doesn't know Evan Envi, but the rest of the world sure does.
"And they know I'm not kidding when I say, I'm the guy you count on to make your JESUS tap out. I'll knock your savior out, ladies and gents, because I have the power to do it. I AM the power... To do it. And he may be a new experience, but Lively's the exclamation point on my career. He doesn't know who he's facing and it's time that we ALL let him know that Meltdown's not just for the beginners."
By this point, our crowd is cheering, drowning out his words.
Minions.
"Beginners? I'm certainly not. I'm the man to beat, guys.
"And Monday? WE LET MICHAEL LIVELY KNOW IT! In Bossier City, a neck will be broken. Who's coming?!"
And with that, the masses are enticed. The drunkards and the fanboys scream their heart out for their current savior; the man they think they can trust.
And Evan Envi can only smile, confidently, as the minions pump their fists into the air, tearing their throats to support him.
He'd make sure their energy wouldn't be wasted.
In Louisiana, he'd get his rockstar reaction.
"But it's not just the music. I like metal everywhere I go. I like the rockstar I reaction I get when my music hits, whether the fans love me or hate me. I like the way they get goosebumps, or they get that sick feeling in the bottom of their gut. There's nobody in the world that can be in a room with me and not have some sort of feeling.
"You love me. Or you hate me. But you're thinking about me. And like a song, I'm stuck all up in your head. And that's how it starts, I mean: immortality. I'm still haulin' up that hill, man. And do you know what I’m gonna do when I get to the top?”
[/url][/I]
”Your winner! And STILL the APW North American Champion, Evaaaaaaan Envi!”
And with the artificial inclusion of a circuit breaker being powered on, we blink into color. Standing before us is Evan Envi, visible from the waist-up dressed in a red shirt advertising Atari. The scenery is unclear due to Evan encompassing the frame, but soon it is evident that we're standing outside in what we can assume is a field.
Evan smiles into the camera, an eerily omniscient look etched upon his face. He soon holds up one finger, disappearing from frame.
It's twenty seconds later when Envi returns to view, this time with the North American Championshp over his left shoulder. His eyes travel between the nameplate and the lens for seconds before he finally speaks, that same omniscient smile returning.
”Hey, Carmen. I hope you’re feeling better after Yarmouth kicked you in your face... And that's the God's honest truth, because I'll be damned if we lose our tag match this week because you couldn't seem to find your jaw. You understand why this match is important. YOU understand why we're in no position to screw up!
"I mean... Did you know there are people that think we're going to lose this? There are idiots out there that think we're not capable of beating Stryker and Lively. Too much manpower, they say. Hitman's riding a torrential wave of momentum and Lively? Well, he's JESUS reincarnate! So they've developed this idea that we're not good enough. And babe, I know I can only speak for myself but I happen to think that's just not so. I have some qualms with the dirt sheets and the guys in the back saying that we're gonna come up short on Meltdown. But I don't blame myself."
Evan opens his mouth to continue, but his eyes widen momentarily before falling half-lidded. He slowly purses his lips and takes a step back from the camera, as if coming to a grand realization. He taps his chin with his index finger, attempting to think.
"You know why there's doubt in the air. You're not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you're not a complete idiot either, Carmen. You dropped the ball twice, and you clearly didn't learn from the first time, ya know? I mean... You lose to Stryker, you deny it, and you literally proclaim that it never really happened. You go on and prepare for your matches each week as if that loss is fictional. And if it's just you versus Stryker, then that's all fine and dandy. I don't give a shit about how you prepare for your singles matches.
"However, skim the circumstances.
"When I see how you let your guard down and made the same mistake twice to lose the Battle Royal to him last week? I lose faith. I lose faith, and OH is it an inopportune moment for that?"
Evan points that index finger at the camera, shaking his head slowly.
"I need to believe in you this week. Sure, you're not as good as me, but you need to be better than them. I already know I am. And I've proved it against Stryker. So YOU need to show up, if your undeservedly inflated ego can step aside long enough to let you understand that. It's you that needs to make these strides and make sure we win.
"But don't worry. I haven't forgotten about me. I haven't forgotten that I've never faced Lively before. And although the same routine has been working pretty damn well for me every single week, I'm gonna go a little bit harder this week, because I know Lively's got somethin' he wants to prove. He wants to shit on my name, but it'll be a cold day in Hell before he grows the spine to get in my face. And while some people look at that as a man being weak, I look at it as a scared man playing a wise card."
Evan smirks and chuckles a bit, stealing a glance at the scenery behind us which still isn't quite clear.
"If I never have the chance to fight Lively, I never have the chance to scout him and feel him out in the ring. Last week he made sure I didn't get that opportunity." Evan shrugs. "So even though I have full confidence that I'm better, it looks like I'm gonna have to assume that this guy is World Champion caliber. I'm fighting Mike Lively, but I'm preparing for the Kurt Nobles. The Biggs'. The Jason Kash-esque talent of the company. Do you understand, Carmen? You should be more like me. You really should."
We hear the vague sound of something cutting through air. Our immediate guess based on our surroundings could be "lawnmower". But with time, the sound resonates with more depth-- we're able to distinguish that it's a helicopter. Evan steals only one brief look in its direction.
"I don't talk just to hear myself, okay? I really wanted this match. I already have one blemish on my record here in APW and I don't need you dicking around and making it two, like you've gone and done for yourself. If you can't figure out why you can't beat Stryker, then don't even get in the ring. Please, don't be confused by my smooth, elegant, and comforting voice. I'm judging you very hard right now."
He nods to the camera through half-lidded eyes, the way somebody might do in a small group if they're diverting their attention to somebody else.
"But Hitman? I never got the chance to say this but I appreciate you making that first visit to the main event, weeks back. Before you, people were criticizing me because my competition was a little 'light', if you will. But now? Well, with all the self-promoting you do, my win over you was probably my most meaningful since becoming the FIRST-EVER North American Champion."
Evan glances at someone off-camera, acknowledging for the first time that he and the cameraman are not alone in what we can still only assume is a field.
"What? Of course I was gonna remind them. Problem?"
"No... Forget I even looked over there."
The educated viewer may realize by the voice that Evan's accomplice is none other than elder sister Sienna.
"Didn't think so."
He pauses once more as the sound of the helicopter's blades grow gradually closer, passing by overhead. A half-smile forms over Evan's face as he gazes skyward. He slowly allows his eyes to drift back downward to the lens, no amusement behind his features.
"Stryker, you've proven that you deserve to be... Here. But let me remind you of something, you son of a bitch..."
Evan's light-hearted and aforementioned (and self-described), "smooth, elegant, and comforting" tone is replaced by an offended one. His pleasant and uninterested face morphs into an irritated grimace.
"You're not Evan Envi. And being Steve Stryker doesn't even put you on that level. You're damn good, and I get that. Hopefully my partner will follow suit and admit that you're the biggest known threat we have in this match. You're the one that's gonna throw a wrench in my plans, Hitman, but you're... the devil... we know. I know how hard you hit. How fast you move. How slow you move. And I did what I said I was gonna do on June 4th back in Greensboro. I became the first man to climb into that ring with you and expose some of your weaknesses. Just some though. But never you worry, Steve-O, because I'm gonna finish the job in Bossier City this Monday."
Evan smirks, but there is no humor or happiness held within it.
"I'm gonna go ahead and expose the rest, just in time for Test for the Best. Because I've got a hell of a problem with you being in that tournament instead of me. Who in their right mind decided that YOU deserved it more than I did? It makes no logical sense, Steven. I beat you, and I did it decisively. But I was overlooked, as per usual. I never even got the chance to be in it... And you did. So before you even say it-- yeah. I'm jealous. Yeah, I'm in envy. And I'm a dangerous man when you have something I want.
"I want your spot. I'm jealous that in APW the consolation prize for second-best is getting catapulted into the premier tournamet. It's unfair, right?
"So since Diamond likes to pretend that I'm not the hottest commodity in Action Packed Wrestling, I've been left with no choice but to take it out on you. All that frustration comes out in the form of..."
Envi takes a second to consider what he wants to say. He looks downward toward his hands before raising both fists, looking at each of them carefully, feigning a need for verification.
"I'm gonna beat you until you tell me that you can't take it anymore. Don't tell the ref, tell me when you give up. I fucking dare you to speak without merit again on MY show.
"If I recall, you accused me of being frightened like a child the first time we faced. All because I had the confidence to admit that you had talent. Sure let that one get to your head.
And look where THAT got you."
Evan frowns slightly.
"Everyone acts as if this title is a death sentence and I'm doing 25-to-life on APW's baby-brother show, but let's clear one thing up right now.
"I'm not ashamed of being the first guy to hold this title. I'm damned-sure not ashamed that I'm making waves and getting people like YOU noticed by the very people you're so anxious to lock up with on Overdrive.
"So I'm doing Meltdown a bit of an injustice by facing you this week. It's gonna hurt Diamond to see our representative for Test For the Best taken down by the guy he wouldn't even let in the preliminaries. But if that's what has to be done to make sure I succeed, then so be it. You're done, Steve. I don't say it if I don't mean it. And it doesn't matter who your partner is... I'm coming for both your asses, and I'm gonna get one of you."
Evan releases a deep breath, taking a few steps back away from the camera.
"Which brings me to your partner. My Jesus, Mr. Lively."
Evan continues to back away, and our camera pans out. We soon see that we're not in a field at all. There are no trees and no signs of life because we're on a heli-pad. This is made evident by the large yellow "H" carved into the sixty-by-sixty-foot stretch of asphalt, surrounded by yellow, steel grating. Our camera rotatoes slowly to show Sienna Harrison standing a few yards away, dressed in a flowing yellow sun-dress. Her hair begins to sway wildly in the wind as our helicopter begins to descend.
We pan back to Evan and we see that he is standing with his arms folded, looking thoughtfully and expectantly at the descending helicopter.
"And why run him down on-camera just like any old guy? This one... This one's special. Sienna, would you please?"
Sienna nods and stoops down, vanishing from our view ever-so-briefly before standing again revealing a megaphone clutched in her left hand. She walks to the edge of the steel grating. Our camera follows and we see the masses... Hundreds of men, women, and children are gathered around the unmarked building in Louisiana. We see banners promoting "Evan Envi's 24th Birthday Extravaganza!" People are eating, playing, drinking, laughing. Sienna speaks into the megaphone, commanding the attention of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The Louisiana crowd, well over a thousand feet below, cheers at the top of their lungs, anticipating Sienna's announcement.
"The birthday boy's got something he wants to say!"
By the time our camera pans back to Evan, he is making a running bee-line for a swinging rope-ladder.
He hops on, a microphone in his hand as the helicopter flies off of the roof, beginning to lower Evan toward the roof of another building, considerably closer to the crowd than the one featuring the heli-pad. Instruments and equipment are set up on this second location, indicating that a live band had been performing.
Soon, Evan is lowered to the roof and he leaps off with inches to spare, walking to the edge of the roof with that eerily omniscient grin on his face. Disregarding the mixed reaction of his "party guests", Evan raises the microphone to his lips, his voice projected through a PA system.
"First, happy birthday to me."
Our crowd roars, unveiling their true natures and honest feelings about the man, due to the influence of the beer and the liquor. Perhaps due to the group mentality. Evan simply half-smiles, that smug and condescending look present as he looks at them... Minions.
"And as my present to all of YOU, I'm going to do something that should have been done this past Monday in Mississippi. I'm gonna eradicate the man known as Michael Lively. And it's not gonna be a private affair. It's gonna be a PAAAAARTY, BITCHES!"
Another monstrous roar from the belly of the beast. Evan winces slightly. He can smell the hard liquor.
"The man claims that APW is the house that LIVELY built! And if he's your Jesus, then you're all his Disciples. And with th..."
Evan is briefly drowned out by a chorus of boos, much to his satisfaction.
"With that being said... You're obligated to follow the man that I vow to defeat this Monday. If Lively built APW, I'm the guy robbing his house. I'm the next guy to come out from the curtains and tear down the young buck. For all intents and purposes, I am YOUR Michael Lively. I am the bar. I have my own show and supporting cast, and while Lively looks at it as a hindrance, I look at it as something he wasn't ever able to do. He didn't command the attention of the masses on his own. Lively had to remind you all who he was and kick a defenseless woman in the face. He had to insult YOU and YOUR HEROES to get recognition. I already have that.
"The word isn't new. It's relevant. And Lively gets those confused quite often. APW doesn't know Evan Envi, but the rest of the world sure does.
"And they know I'm not kidding when I say, I'm the guy you count on to make your JESUS tap out. I'll knock your savior out, ladies and gents, because I have the power to do it. I AM the power... To do it. And he may be a new experience, but Lively's the exclamation point on my career. He doesn't know who he's facing and it's time that we ALL let him know that Meltdown's not just for the beginners."
By this point, our crowd is cheering, drowning out his words.
Minions.
"Beginners? I'm certainly not. I'm the man to beat, guys.
"And Monday? WE LET MICHAEL LIVELY KNOW IT! In Bossier City, a neck will be broken. Who's coming?!"
And with that, the masses are enticed. The drunkards and the fanboys scream their heart out for their current savior; the man they think they can trust.
And Evan Envi can only smile, confidently, as the minions pump their fists into the air, tearing their throats to support him.
He'd make sure their energy wouldn't be wasted.
In Louisiana, he'd get his rockstar reaction.
