Kevin Davidson rolled his eyes and glanced back to PCW promoter Roy Evans. "Roy, you didn't tell me you signed a TV deal. What is this, amateur ring announcer night?"
"Shut up Davidson, at least he'll do something in the main event tonight."
Kevin flipped Evans the finger. It didn't matter that Evans was the promoter of Piedmont Championship Wrestling and giving him a chance, there was no reason to be a prick. Especially on a botch like this. Dark matches only occurred at televised events. And they were a long way from being televised.
"Yeah, whatever. Listen to me kid. Do not try that move."
Magic Carpet Ride boomed out of the too large speakers. Kevin waved off Evans as the ring announcer continued. "Coming to the ring first, from Winston-Salem, NC. He weighs 237 pounds. He is the 'Mystic Warrior' Kevin Davidson!"
"I mean it, Kevin. It's too dangerous."
Kevin tossed one final nasty glance back at Evans and slid through the curtain on his knees. The forty fans in attendance at the Mocksville National Guard Armory mostly clapped. A few cheered. Maybe only half stood up. But it was exhilarating for Kevin. This was why he did it. A cheering crowd was his drug of choice. He didn't care if it was eight or eighty. Sliding through that curtain and hearing the reaction was reason enough.
He popped to his feet and held the staff he carried above his head to garner more cheers. As the babyface* in the next match, his job was to make the fans cheer for him. Kevin had switched to the Mystic Warrior gimmick after a trip to Jamaica the year before with Julie. It was there she had bought him the staff. It was a black, hand-carved, walking stick she had probably paid too much for in some little shop. But it had sparked his idea for the character. He thought it was one of his better ideas, and was working hard at it. If he could get over* with this act, he thought he might get a look from one of the bigger independent promotions outside of North Carolina.