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The scene is somewhere in the training center as we see Haruna and her long friend, Jade Knight are having a conversation

Jade Knight: Haruna, I'm done with this..... I'm sick of being somebody that I don't even know..... I wasn't fighting as myself. you know something, Haruna? My dream is to make my family proud of me and how can I throw all this prestigious name away from me like this? From now on, I'll fighting while carrying a "Knight" name on my back. That is my treasure, That is my power to face all of this. Haruna..... I want to be like you, A girl who always proud of your family name. I want to do that too..... I am proud to be a Knight. and I will stick this pride on the back of my name. 

The scene starts off with The Franchise Demon backstage in his dressing room looking into the mirror when his eyes turn completely black....

Ladies and gentleman......we are leading him.....don't cross his path he may beat you......he may put you in a body bag.....hell he may even send you six feet under down to hell. You know why? He wants people to experience his pain when he was a little kid, and we know up here one person who is blocking his takeover of EAW.....Mr. Kerry Keller. Ever since day one we tried to warn Franchise you're heading in the wrong direction, don't join this New Ministry crap because we know and deep down inside Franchise's heart.....he knows The New Ministry wasn't going anywhere. It all started with Draven then Keller. Keller it's your own good to stay away from Franchise cause you are in his way it's going to lead to a place you don't wanna go.......he is now released!

The Franchise Demon's eyes turn back to normal as he looks in the mirror as the scene goes black.....

Dear EAW Vixens,
 
Hello, my name is Cailin Dillon. You might not know me yet, but soon you won’t be able to forget me. I’ve been known to haunt a few dreams in my day, and you’ll all be no different. Those sleepless nights will all be a result of me. And it won’t be just because I kick all your pathetic butts around that squared circle. You’ll toss and turn at night wondering why you can’t be as beautiful as me. You’ll hate knowing that you just can’t hang with me in the ring. You’ll yearn to know why you just can’t be as confident as I am. And you’ll wake up screaming in fear at the thought of having to face me again.
 
You might not know me, but I’m no rookie. I’ve been around this world and faced the best, and I’ve beaten the best. The EAW will be no different. I’ve been watching the way you operate for months now. It’s time for some real change to your sad, little division. You go from show to show and put on the most marginal performance for these crowds. Can’t you all see they want something more? They want someone who will come in and truly dominate. Not a single one of you are capable of that. Not the rookies, not the veterans and not even your “champion.”
 
One time in the ring with me, and you will reach the height of frustration. I will attack you from every angle. I am the predator and you are the prey. I will come at you, and I will succeed in getting what I want. Predators are so cerebral sometimes. They break down their prey mentally, and then attack them when they are at their weakest. This is how it will unfold for us. You will think everything is going fine for you, and then your world comes crashing down on you. And just when you think it can’t get any worse, the last thing you see is my boot hitting you right in the mouth.
 
Have you ever tasted a boot? You’ll find that mine tastes like defeat. There have been plenty who have stepped up to me, challenged me like I’m not capable of tearing them apart, and then left the ring holding their jaw. I will unleash this boot so fast you’ll never see it coming. Well, you might see it right as it hits you. But you’ll all learn to accept it as inevitability. You step into a ring with me, then they might be picking up your teeth when they pull you out of it.
 
You might see this as a threat, but the fact is you couldn’t be any further from reality. This is simply the truth. I know what I’m capable of, and I know the capabilities you all lack. This division needs a little added spice, and I intend to bring it. Consider this to be your notice. Don’t get too comfortable, because there’s a tornado coming, and that twister is me.
 
The winds are getting stronger, and the sky is falling through. And you ain't got much longer, 'til the rage rips off the roof. I'm a tornado... and I'm coming after you...
 
Doubtfully yours,
Cailin Dillon

We can try and hide behind meaningless rhetoric all we like, but a crushing defeat remains in the back of our minds like a traumatic memory we'd rather forget, stinging us right where it hurts until we find a remedy that allows us to bear the pain. Alex Anderson will read his fairy tales, his motivational quotes, anything to help him keep trudging those little feet through the mud and reach the promise land without his consistency being impeded by the world's difficulties and setbacks. There have been several occasions throughout the annals of EAW history that I've almost accomplished something before it eluded my grasp like a football slipping through the fingers of a star wide receiver and narrowly missing a game-winning touchdown. I almost beat Kawajai during his magnificent, oft-discussed reign as EAW Champion in 2012, a championship that I've still yet to capture to this day. How many incremental, tiny, seemingly insignificant factors went into the results of those championship matches? How much of it did I overlook, and how much of it mattered in the end? It didn't. My foresight wasn't good enough to devise a strong enough strategy to execute effectively and walk away with the title in my hand, but I became wiser for having went through those experiences. I became a better strategist. I stopped contentedly grazing the surface and sought tirelessly to discover the intricacies of what dwells within. On many an occasion, we're held back by our refusal to explore uncharted territories because we're worried about being in an uncomfortable scenario with which we're not familiar. There's nothing particularly noble or strong-willed about competing in a division of bloodthirsty sharks simply to gain the right to say you've swam in their tank. Of course, that's clearly something Alex Anderson wouldn't know anything about. He's happy just to have been there! I'll tell you something, Alex Anderson. History doesn't remember the way in which a battle was won or lost. They remember only the victorious and the defeated. At a star-studded stage like Pain for Pride that puts such battles as David vs. Goliath to shame, the lasting memory of Alex Anderson forever etched in the soil of EAW from its roots up is that of a loser. As of now, Alex Anderson can leave this industry and forever remain remembered for one thing. That isn't the valiant effort you showed in fending off Tyler Parker at Pain for Pride. That isn't the heart-warming tale you shared with the EAW universe when a kid who came from humble beginnings rose to prominence at this year's Triple Threat, becoming the sole survivor after winning with his archrival's finishing move. No matter how you spin, twist, or distort your sad state of affairs to fit your excuse-filled narrative, you can never rectify the fact that you lost in your brand's main event at EAW's pinnacle of wrestling. That's why when all of us are buried six feet under pushing up daisies, Alex Anderson's roots and history will be traced back and defined by a single word... Failure.

You can look up your cutesy inspirational quotes, you can motivate yourself with the prospect of yet another heart-crushing loss, you can start your own family and impart in them the knowledge and wisdom you gained in the wrestling business. None of it will matter. Ordinarily, I'd admonish your inability to defeat a World Champion at Pain for Pride because the pressure gets to everyone. I've lost at Pain for Pride before, too, after all. But there's a distinct difference between my personal trial and losing heading into a bout where you constantly guaranteed victory, stuck to your convictions like a gun rights advocate, and explicitly stated on multiple occasions that you wouldn't revert to the Alex Anderson you were before. I never walked into Pain for Pride 6 in my battle with Mr. DEDEDE thinking there was a chance that I'd lose, but I never held myself above reproach. I didn't try to make an excuse for my loss, nor did I try to save face and chime in afterward with some two-bit philosophy just to retain my self-esteem. That's exactly what you're doing right now, Alex Anderson. Even if we painstakingly piece together something lost, it doesn't mean things will ever go back to how they were. I accepted that in my defeat two years ago. I accepted that in my defeat four years ago. I knew that harping on my losses wouldn't lay the groundwork for future success, and so I didn't. You, on the other hand, have no escape from the lies you told your audience. You stirred controversy for months on end, you did your best to rattle Tyler Parker and change the complexion of the fabric that holds EAW together. I'll be the first to admit that you showed a strong spirit, you showed mettle, and you proved to fans around the globe that you're greater than what you were before... But not good enough. Sometimes, we need to tell ourselves a lie to gain the necessary confidence required of us to move forth with bold decisions. Is that the cruel mistress that ensnared you into her unforgiving clutches, Alex? You knew all along that you weren't good enough to walk on the center stage of Pain for Pride and beat Tyler Parker, but you had to convince yourself of as much regardless. You had to repeatedly bang the notion of your superiority into not just the fans' minds, but just as much your own brain as any other. You fell into your own trap, and now you're spouting more verbal diarrhea questioning the sincerity of everyone's enjoyment in Devan Dubian's championship reign. Is it the people that envy Devan Dubian, the people that bask in his glory in hopes they can grasp onto a shred of it, the elitists in our company that earnestly believe they're superior to Devan Dubian... Or in some far corner of your mind, deep in the depths, on the outskirts of civilization and society out in the wild of your own personal forest untouched by the steady march of time.... Is it YOU alone that believes you're better than Devan Dubian? Because you're exactly the kind of two-faced, lying con artist who would manipulate and exploit any circumstance to your advantage. You're the kind of low-down, abhorrent, dishonest piece of trash who can look a man in the eye and lie to them with a bold face. That's vintage Alex Anderson, and I'd expect nothing less.

Your stubbornness will ultimately prove to be the death of you, I'm afraid. You exemplify an unwillingness to change like no other elitist in EAW, and where has the perilous journey you've ventured on taken you thus far? Your ambition to triumph, conquer, and destroy manifested itself externally as defeat, tragedy, and heartbreak. Am I sensing a pattern here? I think I'm sensing a pattern! You're little more than a recalcitrant juvenile delinquent when it comes to your approach in that wrestling ring. You're still lying to yourself, bringing that familiar dishonor to your name. How can you sit there with a straight face, an expression of complete genuineness, and tell yourself that you'll be World Champion faster than the blink of an eye? Do you KNOW who you are? Have I been following an Alex Anderson of a different name for the past four years, one who could readily gain championship matches and make good on his convictions to obtain the holy grail? Maybe you can't recognize yourself when you're peering your eyes in from a distance. You look at yourself in the mirror when you wake up, you confidently grin and smile while you tell yourself, "Today is the first day of the rest of my life!" and the cycle perpetually repeats itself. Clearly what you've been doing isn't good enough to capture that championship. With that being said, what is Alex Anderson so afraid of that he has to cut corners instead of turn them? Experimenting with the unknown is the only way we can familiarize ourselves with our weaknesses and our strengths. You focus strictly and exclusively on your best qualities while completely ignoring all of your worsts. That's why you're in the position you're in now, referencing "Match of the Universe" in a pitiful attempt to get a leg up on me because you're multiple legs down yourself. Take everything you thought you knew before today and tear off all the metaphorical layers of your person, Alex. When you stop pushing the facade and expose yourself with no filters, what do you have left, Alex? What are your biggest weaknesses? What can you improve on? What can help you reach the promised land and earn what you believe to be your destiny as World Champion? You see yourself from a distance, and upon taking but a mere glance at you, I see a terribly flawed individual who can't distinguish wrong from right. I see a misguided human being without direction in and out of the squared circle. I see a phony, a man who has convinced himself of his facade so sincerely that he's become tragically unable to separate fact from fiction. I take a gander at Alex Anderson, I observe the integrity of his character equally to the value of his wrestling skillset, I strip him of the costumes and masks he wears while putting on a show for his peers... And I see a loser.

This upcoming contest on EAW's inaugural Battleground isn't about Tyler Parker, Alex Anderson. It isn't about Pain for Pride, the ground level, or the mountain tops and plateaus underachievers like yourself aspire to reach. It's high time we reach an understanding, Alex Anderson. Because you're right, you've beaten Dark Demon, you've beaten Mr. DEDEDE, and you've beaten me. Unlike you, I won't let my past losses go unnoticed and turn a blind eye to them in the hopes I can deceive myself into recovering even a fraction of my boisterous overconfidence and self-esteem. Rather, I'll happily teach you the bravery demanded of men seeking to ascend to the next level. You won't heed my words, but you'll be forced beyond a shadow of doubt to acknowledge Y2Impact when he maims you heart and soul worse than Tyler Parker or a shocking, unexpected championship defeat ever could.

The camera opens to a two-toned black and white image of Pizza Boy sitting in the darkness.  His face, barely visible behind the shadow of the black and white filter and the obscuring mass of huge, dated pair of sunglasses concealing his face.  At first glance, the image could be misconstrued as being a photo until the sound of heavy breathing and the faint presence of PB's chest rising and lowering bring the picture to life.

I don't know what to make of you Catterson.  Are you truly this humbled hero of a hard fought war? Or are you just another snake in the garden trying to get me to take another bite? Maybe it's paranoia, maybe it's a low self esteem, or maybe my constant berating has conditioned me to sniff out bullshit when it's put in front of me on a silver platter with cheap garnish.  Maybe you're not the bitter one here.  

Life is full of maybes:

Maybe I'll be ready for you.
Maybe I'll be on top of the card one day.
Maybe I do hold your respect.
Maybe It's a trap.

PB's head slightly lowers as blank contemplation oozes out from behind his blue blockers.

Maybe I just can't take a compliment.  Either way, maybe is a toxin I've learned to imbibe without letting it tear me apart from the inside out.  The truth of the matter is that regardless to my paranoid delusions, regardless to your silver tongue, regardless to the things I see and feel when I close my eyes, I know what you and I are both capable of.  I've seen it in the ring.  I've wrestled on your bloodstains, I've smelled your perspiration on the ropes as I go up top and draw what could very well be my last breath. Regardless to whether or not we've exchanged pleasantries backstage, I've sensed what you can do in the ring at Pain For Pride. I've swam in your essence, I've taken in your humanity, and I've lain my on essence in that ring with yours, side-by-side, two crimson stained skid marks on a canvas.  Three strands of fear, passion, and desperation perspired by two men with nothing left to lose but the world and it's favor.  Knowing all of this, somehow I find myself drinking the Liam Catterson kool-aid and buying into the doctrine.  Maybe it's experience in the ring, or maybe it's your whovian nature, but I do believe that you're probably the first untested opponent of mine to look at this unremarkable pizza boy and see it's potential.  And I could go on for days waxing and comparing and contrasting myself to Donna Noble in many regards, especially after losing 24 hours of my life at Pain For Pride, but I think you get it, and for that, I appreciate you as an opponent.  I also apologize.  But like you, I wont bend to some sycophancy mentality simply because of something like mutual respect getting in the way of a good fight.  You and I are like wounded sharks.  We keep moving forward.  We have to.  Otherwise, we'd die.  We smell one another's blood in the water, and we sense the other sharks closing in as well,and we know whoever doesn't walk away from this fight is at a severe disadvantage when the night comes to a close, and that our life expectancy post match rides on winning or losing.  Clearly we're two hot prospects in this draft, and clearly we're on this show to pull out whatever we have left and shine our upside off by tearing one another apart.  This isn't something I'm particularly happy about, and despite your praise, false or  otherwise, I'm remiss to point out that despite our respective wears and tears from Sunday, I'm at a larger disadvantage heading into this, which is why part of me only sees a great white glint of trained jaws behind your smile.  

PB surprisingly, if not almost jarringly considering his physical inactivity in this promo, lowers his head and shakes it with the smile of a doomed madman.

To which I respond to with a smile of my own as I sit in the dark, licking my wounds as I try to psych myself up for another ice bath and a round of training...not for the conditioning, mostly for the swelling...Tony's running me through the wringer, taking no precaution to pull any punches as he readies me for perhaps the second important match of my short career.  I've got some new tricks, some more endurance, and even a slight spike in stamina, but like you Liam, I'm not so willing to show my entire hand in fear of exposing weakness.  Either way, I know for certain that there's a shark in this match, and a good man ready for a fight.  I'm not sure whose who yet, but we both know the dire straits of a good man going to war, now don't we?

PB raises his head, flashing yet another grotesquely uncharacteristic smile of confidence as the camera almost indistinguishably begins to fade to black.

September 23^rd, 2008
 
 
He lay in the middle of the ring. How did he get here? Why was it so quiet? All he saw were white spots swimming in front of his eyes. They broke away, giving way to the lights. Hanging above his head, they were bright, aggravating his eyes that were already stinging from sweat. Then he felt the pain. A shooting agony, tearing its way down his spinal column from the back of his head. It was the drop. The other guy had dropped him on his neck. Yes, the champion. The one he had come to fight. With this new memory came the sound. A crowd was screaming. Whose name was that? Kevin Drake? It was so familiar to him. A weight pressed against his body, pushing it harder against the mat. He heard a slap… Then another. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. His shoulder… He had to lift his shoulder.


And so he did.
 
He was on his knees, wobbling as he tried to regain himself. The crowd was cheering louder now, and again “Kevin Drake” was their cry. It was him. He was the one they were crying for. This realization flooded his body with adrenaline. He was here to fight! He was fighting for those people crying his name! He was fighting for everyone who’d ever been there to say “I believe in you, Kevin.” But more than any of these, he was fighting for himself. This was his moment, and though it had taken years of scraping every last ounce of energy and willpower out of his body, he was here to take what he deserved!  He stood, tentatively, still reeling from the incredible pain of his opponent’s vicious slam. Even in his newly invigorated state, Kevin still struggled to keep the mat below his feet. Then, the champion charged toward him in a final, mad dash to put away the challenger.
 
Kevin’s fist met the champion’s face.
 
 
A solid right hand. The champion was knocked for a loop, and the crowd loved every minute of it. It seemed like Kevin was gaining the upper hand here, but he knew that he didn’t have enough gas left in the tank to draw this out any longer than it needed to be. Closing the gap between the two men was tougher than he’d expected, and more than once he nearly toppled over. Finally, he made it, and was ready to end this. Normally to set up his finisher, he’d kick the opponent in the gut, but Kevin knew that if he lifted his foot one more time, he’d be flat on the mat, asking to be pinned. A hard body punch would have to do for this. Luckily for Kevin, the champion was still groggy enough that he bent over with ease, leaving himself wide open for the Bad Luck Bomb. Kevin secured the champion’s head between his thighs, then quickly hooked his arms underneath those of his future victim. The fans were losing their minds at this point, and Kevin Drake was not about to disappoint them. However, he honestly didn’t know if he had the strength left to execute this move and secure his first ever World Championship. He was damn sure going to try.

With herculean effort, the challenger lifted his opponent onto his shoulders. Immediately, he felt his right bicep shear itself away from the bone to which it had been anchored. All of his strength was lost, and the champion easily reversed the now impossible-to-execute Bad Luck Bomb. Kevin’s head was driven into the mat, and he knew that he was beaten. The champion covered him, and the referee slapped the mat. One. Two. Three. Just like that, he lost the match, and with it went his chance at greatness. But it wasn’t over, and it never would be.

Not for Kevin Drake.

We all vie to become the epicenter in our avenues of success.

We want to be the center of attention. Men will constantly tell you that they are proud of other's accomplishments. They're happy for them. While they will swear that they are happy for others, what they will never tell you is how greatly envious they are of others. I'll bestow upon all of you a personal experience of mine. When I agonizingly walked backstage subsequent to my match with Tyler Parker at Pain for Pride, all I was doing was observing. I was observing how everyone was looking at me, how they were looking at each other, and how they were paying attention to the matches that followed mine. I didn't want to talk... just observe. I saw people who had despised Devan Dubian from the start. When I refer to the "start," I mean since the day him and I walked into this company in 2010. I saw people who never saw him as much pretend to be happy for his success. Deep-down, it was quite clear that they hated every second that he received attention from the audience and the rest of the company. They wanted to be Devan Dubian on that one night. Now, unlike these men who are so persistently wearing masks, I didn't congratulate Devan Dubian. I never liked him. I didn't want to put on a mask of my own and be something that I wasn't, because that's something that I cannot live with. I only think of myself in thes–all situations. I don't trust anyone. I don't want to trust anyone. The question that I ask is this: Does putting faith in myself make me even less of a man? Am I hindering my own success because of it? I've always questioned myself with those very own questions. Perhaps if I let someone in my life and communicate with them, I can accomplish everything that I ever wanted to. Maybe someone simply being there to give me guidance would elevate me to where I want to be... but I need no man. I have proven to myself that I am all that I need in this business to succeed. My objective is to do this myself. There exists power in objectives, and the power behind this is fueled by my consistent failures that Y2Impact, in particular, does not fail to mention. Impact, I'm genuinely pleased that you mentioned those, because I myself remind myself of those failures on a daily-basis. It has really become a regiment of mine. Not a day goes by that I don't reflect on my loss against Norman Hellion. Not a day goes by that I don't reflect on my loss in the Grand Rampage. Lately, it seems like all I have been doing is reviewing my match against Tyler Parker. What could I have done instead? What can I do to next time that will undoubtedly pilot me to victory. Despite those losses, I'll tell you what I also do, Y2Impact.

Every day of my life, I look at the victories I have had against the likes of Jaywalker. I look at the victories I've had against you. Mr. DEDEDE. Hades the Hellraiser. Dark Demon. I look at these matches and see what I did do correctly, because in spite of the bumps and bruises I've had, I'm still a very valuable extremist. I know that. You know that. Hell, even your companion Heart Break Gal, as stubborn is convinced of that. What does this indicate of my future? You can lay a wager of millions of dollars on me becoming world champion, and you unquestionably will walk out a happy man. I will be world champion faster than a blink of an eye. It's not a matter of if and when Alex Anderson will win. It's a matter of when Alex Anderson will be given his next (and I reckon last) opportunity. The world championship is the itch that simply hasn't been scratched, but when it pertains to this match between you and I, it has no relevance. The impact—pun very much intended—that I will be making at EAW Battleground will not be driven by my lack of world championships. It will be driven by my ability to come up in the clutch against legends of your stature. Akin to Jaywalker and DEDEDE, I have never once doubted your abilities against any other man, but in the ring with me, I have always been your Achilles heel. Such is life. Such is fate. What I have discovered over the years is that I'm perfectly content with one questioning my etiquette. Nevertheless, I am not content with one even having an millimetre of doubt of my work-ethic. You have already made that mistake, Y2Impact. Was my work-ethic in question when I defeated you on two separate occasions beforehand? If it was, then it's quite amusing to me actually. Why, you ask? Because as far as I am concerned, I have only gotten better. I am not the Alex Anderson of old. I've matured both as a man and as an extremist. I can't exactly say the same for you. I haven't seen any progression from you since the match you had against Mr. DEDEDE in 2013. That match was dubbed as the single greatest event to happen in this company's history, it was even titled the match of the century, and for what? You will kill yourselves before you admit this, but you know that match changed your career. You couldn't take that loss. If you had won, you would have cemented yourself as the greatest extremist of all time and... in front of the lights, the cameras, and your foe...

You perished.

Looking over your ridiculous question, I'll ask one of my own with some actual food for thought: If my talent is one of progression and yours is one of regression, then what chance do you have against me considering I have already beaten you? Not only did I beat you, but I beat you when you were a vastly superior being than the one you are now. You criticize me of what you have already failed to do yourself. I recall you swearing on your life that you would defeat Mr. DEDEDE at Pain for Pride. For a moment, it seemed as if you would sacrifice your entire family if needed be. That's how much the match meant to you. But history doesn't change, and you lost, Y2Impact. You cannot criticize me of not living up to what I had promised, because you didn't do the same. Before you think of mentioning any of your other matches at Pain for Pride, please refrain from doing so. They d As much of a cop-out as you may perceive this as, I nearly got everything that I wanted from my match against Tyler Parker. The match showed me where the bar was. The match showed me that I was am nearly inches away from dethroning Tyler Parker and becoming the ace of EAW. The true ace of EAW. It's only a matter of time. I will not make the same mistake that you did. I will not be rotting in the tag-team division on multiple different occasions like you have. I will be decimating opponents night in and night out as if the state of the world, as we know, it depends on it. I'll reiterate this to you so you understand, Impact: do not call me a hypocrite. Stare yourself in the mirror for a good fifteen minutes. If you can truthfully tell yourself that you practise what you preach, then come back to me. After all this, I'll actually give you credit, because you nailed something on the head. You are absolutely correct on me being Hitler because I disrupt the peace of the people. I do... and I regret nothing. Seven years in the business, and I assumed that you know that this business is not about making friends. Shame, really. I was expecting more from you as a man that I once looked up to, Y2Impact. When I first walked in through that entrance gate to EAW, you were one of the top guys. Now you've watered yourself down to a division that really means nothing, and yes, I will stress it time and time again. Your division is irrelevant. What you did at Pain for Pride could have been done by me. It's saying something when I can go 45 minutes with the man who has succeeded you and get closer to dethroning him than any man before. It's showing something when I lay the groundwork for what is to come in the next few months: the reign of Alex Anderson. That's versatility. Versatility is going beyond your limits. Versatiltiy is showing 100,000 people in the audience moves that they have never seen before from me. Things they never expected. What you did wasn't anything impressive. I mean, not for anyone who knows anything about this business. Look at your track-record in the year of 2015 and then look at mine, Y2Impact. It's clear who wins in that department. With that being said, I don't understand at all what you are referring to when speaking of "the last few months." In the last few months, I've taken myself to a level I've never been. I'm not slowing down any time soon, so please... elaborate on that next time. I'm not going to discredit you at all for winning that championship, but if you want to gloat about it, then I may as well gloating about getting the new iPhone. It's just a piece of hardware that men in the brink of their career achieve to edge out their accomplishments. The same can be said about you... and Heart Break Gal. Hell, I could have said the same about DEDEDE. I'm sure that should cheer you up – the fact that your own "friend" is in the same boat as you. I've been on record saying that this is my generation, Impact. I'm not in fear of the vast ocean. It fascinates me. If any man will survive in this vast ocean, it will be Alex Anderson.

They say never meet your idols.

This Sunday, you're going to wish I never did.

(The occurring scene opens to darkness.  There isn't a source of life or light within sight, until a muffled voice can be heard nearby.)

"SCREE-EECH!!"

(Goes a rusty hinge as a lid is opened and reveals a towering Hades.  It becomes clear to the public that the camera is positioned at what appears to be a forty five degree angle inside of a coffin.  A slight smirk surfaces on the face of the self-proclaimed King of the Otherworld, not winning over any audience members after his stunt from Pain for Pride VIII; he disregards the jeers and proceeds to talk.)

As much as I wish I could stand here and take credit for being the insensitive prick that the EAW has made me out to be by offing one of their Flagship Shows, I just couldn't -- in good conscience -- allow myself to act at the mercy of my own ego and soak up all of the glory on this one.

Just as it takes a Pride to bring down a Water Buffalo, so does it take a group's effort to bring down something as astounding a measure as Dynasty.  There is but one man among us who has served as the driving force behind the feat which many of the ruby brand have been reduced to..and his name is Lucian Black.

Just as I expected, you talked a big game but you failed to show and prove.

You went on for days about how you were going to spare your brand of its fate, ward off the evil eye, put the Devil through Hell, bring Honor back to the Dishonorable.  You did everything imaginable, except nail yourself to a block of wood, to convince them that you were their Savior -- the Answer to their Prayers come to fruition -- when all you were, was a Man; a blemish in God's design; intended for the purpose of being toppled by beings like myself.

Tell me:  How does it feel to fail time after time again?

How does it feel to know that this -- ALL OF THIS -- was your own doing?

How did it feel to wake up the morning after, look your blushing bride or your little bastards in the face, and realize that you -- as a man -- are useless; because you cannot provide for them anymore?  Now you have to rely on your woman to act as Husband and Wife, not only in your relationship, but your household because you can't uphold your end of the bargain?  I'll tell you what, if your kids are in need of a new Father Figure, whom they can count on to fight overwhelming odds for the sake of their own security...than look no further than right here.  I guarantee you, that by the end of the month, they and your Wife, will be calling ME "Daddy".

Okay, that was a bit of a low blow there, but I just couldn't pass up this opportunity to kick you when you're down.  It's one of my best qualities.  But know that I am serious and sincere when I say that I have enjoyed being a contribution to your own demise...the one who brought your life to a screeching halt...and the one who robbed you of your career; but look at the bright side, at least you learned a valuable lesson Saturday: there is no Honor in the EAW.  We are Professional Wrestlers -- motivated but often times deceived by avarice and famine -- as we fight, plot, connive, manipulate, and kill each other for gold plates taped to cattle skin.  Where is the Honor in that?

Here.  Rotting in the same grave that you and the rest of Dynasty, currently inhabit.

Consider this the benediction to your career and final conclusion to your six year stay in the EAW.  You weren't much of a people pleaser while here, but your leaving has made me quite happy.  But nonetheless...

Lucian Black.  Rest.  In.  Peace.

"THUD!!"

(The lid on the casket is slammed shut, overwhelming the camera in total blackness.  A fade out occurs, though it wasn't visible, ending the scene.)

Battleground July 5th, 2015 - Promo #1


[The sound of feet hitting mats at high speed permeates the air as we open to a gymnastics gym full of women of varying ages, all trying their best to perfect their flips and tumbles. On the sideline, in a pair of purple warm-ups, sits Aurora Rose who seems to have a more even-keeled demeanor about her than as of recent. She stares on at the gymnastics before beginning to speak.]

Aurora: Hey, it’s Aurora! I’m here at the first place I ever learned to be an athlete, Rodrigo’s Dance Studio. It’s been a long journey these past few weeks. I’ve only had two matches in EAW so far, but it’s already felt like I’ve been on an odyssey, and it’s been overwhelming to say the least. So I wanted to get away from all of that and get back in touch with my roots. I wanted to go back to a time when things were a little simpler than being shipped off to Germany to inadvertently offend an entire nation. 

Getting to wrestle at Pain for Pride was such an amazing experience. Things didn’t quite work out for me the way I would have hoped, but in all honesty, I’m still proud of myself for being able to make it as far as I did! Ever since that match, I’ve gotten so many more fans, I even broke one hundred thousand Twitter followers! But with those Twitter followers come lots of questions… and it seems people still don’t quite know who Aurora Rose is… and in light of this huge opportunity to prove myself against the Vixen’s Champion, I figured now would be a great time to show the entire world just exactly who Aurora Rose is. And it all starts here.

Before this, Aurora was just a shy girl who loved Power Rangers (I always imagined myself as the sixth “Purple” Ranger) and had her own storybook where she re-wrote the Ninja Turtles as girls. My parents had raised me to be super proud about who I am, and to never let anybody put me down and to stand up for myself and others, but when it came down to playing with other kids I was still shy. So they brought me here. They thought that this would be the place where I could finally break out of my shell and also focus some of my energy away from trying to touch the ceiling and playing “The Floor is Hot Lava.” It was here, they told me, that I could learn how to be a real life Power Ranger! I mean, Kimberly was a gymnast and she used all of her cool flip moves to kick Putty butt! That’s what I always wanted to be, somebody who kicked a lot of butt and did a lot of flips.

And yes it was here, that I finally broke out of my shell and became the out-going fun-loving Aurora you know today! Throughout my life things just kept snowballing. I wanted so badly to do all of the stuff I saw on TV, and it was like gymnastics and dance helped me accomplish that! And I mean, who doesn’t love to dance! It’s so fun! It was around the time I started taking dance classes that I noticed this thing called wrestling on TV. I started to really dig it, but my parents quickly forbade me from watching it. When I got older and didn’t have to listen to my parents as much, I started watching it again and… I could see why they didn’t want me to. I was mostly shocked by the women, who didn’t seem like the women heroes I grew up on at all… they seemed more… manipulative. It didn’t sit well with me, because I thought women wrestling wouldn’t have so much hair-pulling, you know? Luckily for me, though, EAW changed the game! Not only did women prove they had what it takes to be great fighters, but they even proved they could hang with the boys! Cameron Ella Ava is a former two-time Hall of Fame Champion, beating men both times to win it! Heart Break Gal is tag team champion alongside Y2Impact! And our own Vixen’s Champion has been able to pin the World Heavyweight Champion, Tyler Parker!

Congratulations, Tarah! Not only did you do that, but you successfully retained your championship against a team of nine vixens who couldn’t get their act together! I honestly hope you’re happy with what you’ve done. In your quest to prove yourself, you’ve become so obsessed with it that you’ve turned an entire locker room of ladies against you. And for what? So you can hold your head high and call yourself The Vixen Killer, knowing you’ve put other people out of their dreams just to accomplish your own? Is this what you wanted Tarah? Because you’ve gotten it. This place was and could still very well be on the verge of changing the way the entire world views ladies as wrestlers. You want to view yourself as a leader, you want to delude yourself in to thinking that you’re the champion this division has asked for? A leader inspires the people they lead, a leader doesn’t pit themselves against everybody else to try and strong-arm his or her dominance in some vain attempt to destroy an entire group of people’s hopes and dreams. All you’ve inspired this group of ladies to do is to conspire against you, because your content with trying to monopolize screen time for all Vixen’s in EAW. 

Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve taken something that could have been about empowering and inspiring people to do things they never thought possible, and you’ve made it about yourself. You’ve taken this great thing for progressing society and turned it in to the Tarah Nova Show. And I know it’s easy to think that this should be the Tarah Nova Show when you have that boyfriend of yours in your ear 24/7 constantly reaffirming you of how awesome you are, but I’m not going to stand by and let you get away with this. You can either see the error of your ways or you’ll just have to be overthrown, even if I have to be the one to do it. I won’t back down.

Tarah, I know you probably think of me as some little Tinkerbell like fairy-girl that could hardly pose a threat to anybody, but I’ve wanted this just as long as you have. I may be new, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve wanted to change people’s minds about lady wrestlers ever since I was first repulsed by what I saw when I was younger. I’ve wanted to be a real life Power Ranger ever since I was a girl, and this is the way I get to do it. This is the way I get to inspire little kids to chase after their dreams just like others had done before me. You can call me a ditz, you can rag on me for oversleeping my match, but I’m far from dumb and I assure you I’ll be wide awake and ready in time for our match on the very first episode of Battleground! You’re not getting the usual happy-go-lucky Aurora, not with what’s at stake. I know exactly who you are Tarah, and I know exactly what I’m in for when I step in the ring with you, but please don’t underestimate me and what I can do because while I may still be a rookie, I’m far from a non-threat, as I’m sure many of the people I helped eliminate from the 24/7 Battle Royal can attest to. 

We don’t have to be enemies, you can admit to your mistakes and we can have a friendly competitive outing on Battleground, or you can continue to parade around acting like you’re the only Vixen that matters, which is something I simply cannot stand for. I’m not going to back down from you Tarah, I’m going to fight for everything I’ve ever wanted since I was a little girl to prove myself – much like you’ve wanted to prove yourself. You want to be a fighting champion? Then prove to me that you’re what a real champion should be on Battleground. Show me you truly have what it takes to carry yourself as a leader. This is your chance. There’s no doubt in anybody’s mind you have what it takes in the skill department, you’ve proven that. But do you truly have the attitude? I’ve never gotten the pleasure and the challenge of facing you in the ring before, and I want to see first-hand if you are who you say you are and if you have it in you to be a respectable person for once in your career.

And to the other Vixens who may be down in the dumps about the outcome of their Pain for Pride match… don’t look down… look up to the Shining Sky above and see that not all hope is lost! Soon, we will restore honor, competition and dignity back in to the Vixen’s division!

A lion never dies, it only sleeps.

Adaptation is the key to survival. Without adaptation we would all just be a distant memory. Natural selection is a wonderful thing. It eliminates the weak who are not suited to their environment and helps the stronger people evolve and progress into the optimum they can be. That's how the world turns people. This is exactly like the wide world of professional wrestling. You have to adapt to your surroundings to stay alive. I am a perfect example of how successful natural selection is. Every company that I have been in has been different, they have all offered different challenges for me to conquer and continue on at the best I can be. All of these companies have ended up the same way, unable to deal with a man called Thomas Minns. There will be a point in every single wrestling company's life where they run out of challenges for a certain competitor. I have been that certain competitor in every single company I have been in. I have seen it all, I have done it all. I have conquered the wrestling world, turned it on to his foundations. Professional wrestling was once just a form of entertainment. Since I came onto the scene wrestling has evolved to become an art form. Gone are the days that people watched professional wrestling just to see body's being hurt, now people tune in and come and watch all of that locker room to watch accomplished wrestlers do what they do best. That was all because of me. My career has been like a painting that has almost been complete. Just the finishing touches need to be added to make it an absolute masterpiece. Those final little touches lay here in Extreme Answers Wrestling. The World Heavyweight Championship, that's what I have my eye on. That's what every single wrestler in this company should have their eye on but some are more suited to it than others. If you reminisce back on my career, filled for glory and jubilation you will have to stop time and admire how successful I have been. That is clear evidence that I am more suited to be holding that World Heavyweight Championship than anyone else who will ever set foot in this company. World Heavyweight Championships are a hard thing to come by for most wrestlers but that is certainly not the case for me. I have won to many Championships to even count. I can see Extreme Answers Wrestling being exactly the same as every other company I have ever been in. They set up these boundaries to try and halt my progress but those boundaries are knocked down in mere minutes by myself. I have done it time and time again and here it is going to be no different. I've faced man mountains, I've faced quick little men, I've faced every single kind of competitor that there is. The fact that I am just an all rounder really gives me that upper advantage over any opponent that has the misfortune of facing me. I am strong, I am quick, I am technically gifted, you name it and I am it. Most competitors can only be good at one thing, I am exceptional at every aspect of professional wrestling. The phrase jack of all trade, master are none is thrown around a lot to describe various different wrestlers. That is certainly not the case for Thomas Minns, Jack of all trades, master of them all is far more fitting to describe yours tuly. If that's not impressive than I don't know what is. Whatever you've got to try and knock me down a peg or two bring it at me, I will just knocked it out of the park. I am a seasoned veteran of professional wrestling. I am the LeBron James of this wrestling game. I am the best of the best. Nobody can't beat me, that's just the stone cold truth. Many have tried and many have failed. There is a select list of people that have actually managed to keep me down for the three count. Those people who have actually managed to do that have never been seen in professional wrestling again. Beating me might seem like a fantastic thing on the surface, but delve deeper into it all and you will realise what I mistake you made. I can promise that anybody that beats me will live to regret it. Anyone that I face falls into the same trap of endless abyss of broken dreams and shattered hope. Getting revenge is one of my forte’s, if I lose a match than you can bet your ass I will get revenge on that person sooner rather than later. The words that people use are seeds, sometimes you need to be very careful in what you plant. The words that you say can come back to haunt you. The difference between anybody else and I is that I back up the words that I say. The time for talking is over, it's time to prove my worth.

The camera opens up in the promo box for EAW, a room few seem capable of finding other than the Pizza Boy.  He and Tony look on as Liam Catterson wraps up his promo on a small monitor.  When the screen finally fades to black, Tony and PB look to one another, both scanning the other for a reaction.

TR: This guy *long whistle* this guy is certainly full of himself.

PB: Yeah.  I've never seen such a...I wouldn't say sore loser...or a gracious one...delusional?

TR: Oh yeah, that's the word.  People call me that, I know the implications, and that dude is delusional.

PB: To hear'em talk, you'd think he walked out of Pain for Pride a winner.

TR: YEAH! He talk good.  I knew some of those words, I think.  But whose this 'doctor' he keeps clamoring about?

PB: Doctor Who?

TR: I know, right? Jeez, just drop a surname already, Catterson.

PB: No...no, see he's talking about Doctor Who.

Tony stares down PB blankly.

PB:  You know...BBC stalwart scifi series?

TR:....

PB: Has been around for...oh...about 50 years, give or take?

TR:...Phil? Is he talking about Dr. Phil? Because I've been retired for awhile now, and I gotta say, that Dr. Phil's a pretty good doctor.

PB: NO! DOCT-OR-WHO!

TR: THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT!

PB: FIGURE OUT WHAT?!

TR: THIRD BASE!

PB holds up his hands, stalling the conversation.

PB: Listen...I'm not getting into some Abbott and Costello bit with you.

TR: Thank God, I don't think this fed's exactly the target demographic for that reference.  I doubt half of'em are even old enough to remember 'Rain Man'.

PB: ANYWAY! Back in reality, I'm staring down a delusional Whovian-

TR: Is that what the Brony call themselves these days?

PB stares down a smug smiling Rolland from behind his fauxkley shades with suppressed rage.

TR: See, that's a reference kids'll get.  

PB: I'm doomed...

TR: Get it?  Hooves? Hoovians? No? I'll shut up now.

PB: No matter how you spin it, Catterson, we both lost at Pain For Pride.  And these weren't small losses.  You ended a blood feud on your back, just as I ended my hype on mine under a tomb of bodies and ladders.  Now does this mean it's the end for either of us? No.  But those who refute the past are doomed to repeat it, and certain big events in history are fixed points in time that you cannot change.  I'd figure a fellow police box aficionado such as yourself would understand that above all else.  So what do we do when the bubble closes in on us? Do we forget Rory and Amy ever existed? Do we let Adric die in vain? Or do we carry the weight of our mistakes and learn from them?  Believe you me, I respect you Liam Catterson, and if it weren't draft season coming up, I'd indulge in sparking a communal bowl and taking in a Saturday's marathon, hell I'd even bring the pizza, but it IS draft week, and right now you and I are looking like damaged goods.

PB somberly walks away from Tony, taking up soap box just a few feet away against an EAW backdrop as the cameras continue to roll.  He straightens up his bow tie and slicks back his hair, gingerly mindful of his stitch and bruise covered head.

PB: In a lot of ways, I'm in the worst shape of my short career at the moment.  My body aches, my head hurts, and I find it harder and harder as days go by to pry my swollen eyes open and get out of bed to greet a new day after nights of thrashing to get comfortable.  And it's not just the minor injuries keeping me up at night.  Pain For Pride was to be my launchpad into the stratosphere of this industry.  I understand that there will be others at later dates, but right now, this one still stings.  I'm sure beneath that bravado and pomp you're feeling somewhat similar to me right now after finally being bested by Ventura.  It's probably how I felt when I finally ate the fall to O'Hara, but probably a bit more sour because I never dominated Jamie.  I matched him once, but he was always the better man when it came down to it because he had not only the drive and support of the people, but the actual talent and seasoning.  I suppose you're asking me what my point is by now, and I can't really profess to know truly where I'm going with this, other  than to say that man is fallible, even if ninety-nine times out of one hundred he comes out on top, there's always going to be that one percent that haunts him.  Ventura found that one percent, and probably learned more in his time as your whipping boy about how you wrestle than I ever will, or you ever will know of him if I'm to be so bold.  And do you know what he did? He turned that one into a fifty.  And maybe that's what it takes, maybe that's why my hot streak is running cold.  It's not bad juju, it's not me losing anything about myself, it's just me hitting a wall.  It took me falling off of a ladder to realize that what I came into the fight with isn't enough to win the war.  That's why I've started watching tapes, that's why I've started hitting legitimate gyms, that's why I drug Tony's lazy ass out of rest mode and forced him to teach me how to wrestle.  See, the streak is dead, and a long losing streak might take it's place, but instead of toiling and whining and thinking up new schemes to get myself over with the people, I'm going to take my lumps like Ventura and learn from them, which is something that someone of your stature and ego can't seem to comprehend or grasp.

PB begins to loosen his tie, letting it hang wild around his neck as he begins to unbutton his dress shirt to reveal a tapestry of purple hand prints, thick red lines of fresh bruises, and a morbidly humorous bruise spelling 'Babcock' emblazon backwards in thick print, all bordered off by a thick layer of tape and bandage around the midsection.

TR: [off camera] WOOO! TAKE IT OFF, SON!

A few singles fly into the shot, but PB seems un-phased by it as he stares angrily into the camera.

PB: These are the reminders of my mistakes. 

PB yanks off his shades, revealing two black eyes behind their caramel colored lenses.  He points at both of them emphatically with two shaky index fingers.[/ b]

PB: This is what reminds me when I stare in the mirror in the morning.  They remind me that I can do better, be better, work harder, train harder, grow faster, and be more than what stands before you today.  It tells me that if I can take the pain of defeat at the hands of 7 men and a ladder on one of EAW's grandest stages, that I can go that extra minute, push for another rep, swim another lap, climb an extra foot, and run an extra mile until my body forces me to lay down and play dead.  You're right in one respect, Liam.  Pain For Pride wasn't the end, and Pain For Pride wasn't a loss. So long as you swallow your pride and take that pain and claim it as your own tome to learn from, you walk away from that grand stage with something to claim for your troubles.

PB slips his shades back on, and somewhat self-consciously begins fiddling to get his bow tie reapplied to the neck of his still open shirt.

PB: Pay that penance, Liam.  Pay it or live with the consequence of your sin.  

PB's head drops in exhaustion from his performance. The crew behind the camera begin a slow applaud as Tony lets out some cat calls and whistles as he over-enthusiastically applauds.

TR: YEAHHHHH!

PB graciously nods to his off-camera mentor as the visual feed cuts out.

TR: Wait...who were those people you were talking about?

PB: Exactly.

TR: THIRD BASE!

End of audio feed

June 28th, 2015
Thirty minutes after Pain for Pride 8 ended
London, England
 
 
Kevin Drake was all smiles as he stood in the ringside seats in the empty Wembley stadium. The ring still stood, a lone spotlight shining down from the ceiling. Earlier tonight, Kevin had insisted on being at ringside, despite the offer to sit backstage as a newly signed member of the EAW roster. While there were nice couches, leather chairs, and better air conditioning in the back, he knew that it would have been nothing short of a travesty if he couldn't have experienced it properly. Now, after the crowd had cleared out, and the Elitists had gone back to the locker rooms, only Kevin Drake and that ring remained.
 
He thought back to the first time he had stepped between the ropes of a wrestling ring. It was one of those traveling wrestling promotions that had come to his hometown. IThe summer was in full swing, just like it had been tonight, and the evening in Alabama was muggy and sweaty. Kevin was 14, and he had gone to the show alone, paying for his ticket with money he'd gotten from mowing lawns. Other kids his age had come with family or friends, but for him it wasn't about company. He was there for the spectacle, the sheer glory and electricity of the show. It didn't matter that the company was dirt-poor, setting up in a high-school gymnasium and wrestling in front of, at most, 92 people. They had come to wrestle, to entertain, to dazzle, and young Kevin Drake was eating out of the palms of their hands.
 
Each match was better than the last. It was the era of black leather and hardcore matches, and he even remembered one of the wrestlers riding an old motorcycle out to the ring (nevermind the fact that it ran like a junker from a salvage yard). Baseball bats with barbed wire were the fare of the time, but it wasn't what Kevin had come for. He wanted to see the athletes showcase their technical skills, and for the main event, he got his wish. "Strongman" Sterling Vance was wrestling another man that Kevin had forgotten about. It was all about Vance's skills, and he had them in spades. When he cleanly pinned the forgotten opponent, Vance did something that Kevin would never forget.
 
He invited him into the ring.
 
Climbing the apron and bending between the ropes, he could smell the sweat staining the mat mingling with the blood shed by the competitors. Vance lifted the boy up on his massive shoulders, parading him around the ring. Kevin was elated, swept up by the joy and excitement of the night. He heard the cheers of those 92 people, and while it was a quiet sort of grandeur, it was the greatest moment of Kevin Drake's life.
 
In the present, EAW employees strode down the ramp to tear down the ring. Quickly, Kevin hopped the barricade and held out a hand to stop them. 
 
"Hang on, guys," he asked, "could you leave the ring up for a few more minutes?"
 
A couple voiced their dissent, but the rest seemed in favor. 
 
"Couldn't hurt to have a few more minutes before the heavy lifting."
 
Gratefully, Kevin nodded at their response. He stepped up onto that apron and remembered earlier in the night, when the cheers of what seemed like millions rang in his ears. Each match those two nights had been nothing short of incredible, and the fans were more than happy to speak their minds. It was something he knew, being no stranger to standing inside the ring, but the scale he'd seen tonight and the night before was new, something Kevin desperately craved.
 
He bent and stepped between the ropes, again smelling the salty-sweet odor of blood and sweat. Oh, how he wanted to add his own to the mix, to fight with gladiators on this great stage. In that moment, standing in the spotlight, looking out into the sea of empty seats, Kevin Drake determined in his heart that Pain for Pride 9 would be -his- show. It would be the moment he'd been dreaming of since Strongman Sterling had invited him into the ring all those years ago.

 
A camera turns on to show a mostly typical, dull hotel wall. The is view partially obscured by someone standing in front of a section of the lens, adjusting the video recorder to just the right angle. And then, there’s a face in the frame. A platinum blonde backs up towards a chair, a smirk pasted across her face. As she sits down, she tosses her hair back and then looks directly into the camera with hazel eyes.
 
Cailin Dillon: You’re probably wondering who I am. And if you don’t know, well, then that’s a shame. It doesn’t matter much, though. Soon enough, you won’t be able to forget me. I just got done signing my name on the dotted line a few hours ago. My name is Cailin Dillon, and I’m the newest Vixen in EAW.
 
She leans back in the chair, crossing her legs as that grin on her face grew even wider. She leans to one side.
 
Cailin Dillon: Everywhere I’ve been, every single time I’ve stepped into a ring, I’ve been an instant threat to become a champion. This will be no different. You think I showed up at TCW or EWS and they didn’t take me seriously? No, they knew they were in trouble the moment I walked in the room. They heard my boots echo across the ground and they knew their days at the top of the food chain were numbered. You see, it’s simple. The wrestling world is full of women ready to compete and fight their hearts out for titles. But they don’t compare to me in the ring. I’m not like them. I’m evolved. Don’t believe me? (she laughs) Just wait and see…
 
Cailin pulls her long hair over to the right side and pulls on it, still softly laughing to herself. She shakes her head and refocuses her eyes at the lens. Leaning back in the chair, she turns slightly and rests her boot-wearing feet on top of a nearby desk.
 
Cailin Dillon: It won’t be long now. As soon as I step into the ring, I’ll start ascending to the top faster than any of you can imagine. And I’ll take everyone of the Vixens you’ve grown to love, and take them all down a notch. Give them five minutes in the ring with me, and it will be an instant ego check. Heh, for them. This Vixen division… it needs new blood. It needs… me.
 
Cailin slinks off the chair and toward the camera, just inches away from the lens to frame just her face in the picture. She picks up the camera and hold sit up, shooting her smirking, confident expression as she talks.
 
Cailin Dillon: You might not know who I am yet, but soon, you won’t be able to forget me. I’m coming EAW. Get ready.

She reaches up and turns the camera off as it fades to black.

[Somewhere in-- Where the hell are we?]

HBG: Damn...

[The Heart Break Gal slowly opened her eyes to the ray of sun seeping in between the branches and leaves of trees. She hears the birds chirping, and the sound of fresh water rushing from one place to another. She finally found the strength to rise up, and as her palm touches the ground, she felt only grass and fallen leaves. She finally stood up, wearing her red tank top and white shorts. She also grabbed the camera which was laying on the floor.]

HBG: Where the hell are we?

[HBG noticed that Y2Impact had been beside her all along, sleeping soundly. He was shirtless, and only had jeans on, but it never stopped him from looking so damn peaceful and at rest. HBG looked at him for a while after her being confused of the situation. She leaned in, with her face next to his... She puckered her lips, and braced herself for the right moment, a part of her hoping Y2Impact wouldn't get mad of what she is going to do next...]

HBG: WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Y2Impact sat up in a snap after HBG raised her voice to wake him up.]

Y2Impact: Ow, damn. Where are we? How did we get here?

HBG: Don't panic, there is only one reasonable explanation for this -- I think we're dead. We died and we don't remember a thing.

Y2Impact: No, I think we're in a forest somewhere. Show me the camera. 

[Y2Impact grabbed the camera from HBG's hand, and reviewed it in an attempt to re-trace their steps. They started off celebrating for their successful Unified Tag Team Championship win in the Lair in Seattle with many bottles of vodka. HBG in her drunken mind made a victory speech]

HBG: Nobody truly understands the kind of hell the Mercenaries are willing to go through in order to find their way to the promised land. Nobody can grasp the solidity of our alliance, our desire to win championships and the weight of our greatness as we have taken the very prize we set our eyes on after only a short period of time. I was ridiculed. I was underestimated, yet despite it all, I kept my head up and never listened to a single word from those pests who I consider beneath me. I have kept my word, I have told of my intentions of exposing The Savage Ryans, The Renegades and Death by Velocity for the jokes they are, and I have succeeded. And now I can proudly say that I have racked up a pin over not only CM Banks but also Mr. DEDEDE. I can also proudly say that The Mercenaries in their short run, are still the better tag team than The Renegades by a mile. I can proudly say that I have made history, being the first vixen crowned as one half of the Unified Tag Team Champions. Does anyone still want to step up and tell me that I'll never be capable of putting words into actions? Does anyone still assume that I only wish for success which will never actually materialize? Do people still think I wasn't as good after three years of inactivity? Well piss off and eat shit! The Mercenaries will keep the Tag Team titles for the long run. We will expand our dominance and stature in the EAW's airwaves with our presence until they are forced to acknowledge and appreciate the greatness that we bring in this company. All haters and non-believers can just sit back and rot in the sewer for all I care, they can go get hit by a bus or hang themselves because that's just as good as life gets for those imbeciles. 

[Video next showed that they took a plane to Italy where they always said they'd go for a vacation, they met a famous Italian band who they hung out with for the entire night and they hopped on a plane to go to Macau, China... later on they took a ferry to Hong Kong, who knows why... Somewhere along the way, their ferry went Titanic and hit something. Everyone drowned, but they survived. Now they're in a tropical rainforest. Lord knows where.]

HBG: I guess that's what happened! The reason why we lost our memories was because we probably hit something while the ferry was drowning! It makes complete sense now!

Y2Impact: We did say we should be spontaneous. Look where spontaneous brought us.

HBG: To the tropical forest of pure awesome?

Y2Impact: Exactly!

[Camera continues to play past events as Alex Anderson's speech is seen. His bitter, uninspired, tedious expression of discontent in his Pain for Pride match against Tyler Parker. The moment it finished, HBG takes the trusty camera from Y2Impact's hands and starts to record.]

HBG: Okay, that's enough gross for one day. Since we're probably going to spend five years on this island Oliver Queen style, this is probably the best time to ask -- what do you have to say about your opponent this coming EAW Draft show, Y2Impact? 

Y2Impact: How should men be judged? Should it be measured by their wins and losses? Something intangible and unquantifiable like heart and determination, maybe? The manner in which they treat others? Their annual salary? None of the above, I'm afraid. You can be as successful as Michael Jordan, as unwavering in the pursuit of your goals as Rocky Balboa, or as kind-hearted as Mahatma Gandhi. Combined or divided, these traits amount to zilch without one core characteristic -- persistence. I know it comes across as ironic for a legend who re-entered the fray just a couple of months ago before winning the Unified Tag Team Championships as one half of The Mercenaries with the always-joyful Heart Break Gal. That doesn't matter. If there's one thing that defines Y2Impact above all else, it's my unbreakable will to persevere through the heat of battle and outlast my enemies with unparalleled endurance. I proved it when I won my first World Heavyweight Championship over six years ago at Road to Redemption, immortalizing myself as EAW's first Triple Crown Champion by latching onto an opportunity I saw for myself that no one else in this company did. I understand my surroundings better than any elitist in EAW, and it's because I understand my surroundings, because I'm persistent enough to follow through with my goals no matter what route I have to take in getting there, that I am always successful. While greenhorns still far too wet behind the ears to even comprehend what it's like being in the same league as me can exert themselves until much-needed rest is the only thing on their minds when they come home, I have a chance to win my battles far more frequently than I lose them because I can take massive amounts of punishment without being any worse for wear. Giant mammoth men take a glance at me before the bell rings and laugh thinking about how easy their challenge is going to be, but what happens when they get to the ten minute mark against me? They start feeling flustered, frustrated and enraged that I continue to get a shoulder up at every near-fall because they know they've exhausted their entire arsenal of moves and nothing was effective enough to put me down for good. The counterproductive effect of my resilience and legendary persistence is the fact that it forces my adversaries to think outside the box. It forces them to become more creative with their maneuvers, to devise strategies they'd never before conjured, and it does one of two things. It can make them unpredictable even to a trained warrior mind like my own, unable to anticipate what they're going to do and putting them in the driver's seat in the process; or, when the shoe is on the other foot, these wrestlers will become consumed by their anger as I watch it transform into full-blown rage, swinging sloth-like haymakers at me and repeatedly failing to connect with their elusive target. 

However, Alex Anderson possesses the quality that I respect and consider more crucial and conducive to success than anything else. There are many adjectives you can use to describe Alex Anderson, but none more accurate than persistence. He's tried and failed so many times, you can't fairly evaluate the plight of his career without feeling sympathetic toward the guy. He has victories over seemingly indomitable foes like Mr. DEDEDE and I, yet still can't seem to capture the holy grail that is the World Championship for the life of him. After celebrating backstage with the Heart Break Gal, of course I tuned in to watch the rest of Pain for Pride, and Tyler Parker vs. Alex Anderson in a classic bout of champion vs. challenger where hated enemies were pitted against one another caught my eye like nothing else could. There was the man that had beaten me and taken my mantle a year prior, Tyler Parker, connecting every move with such elegance and God-like precision that I almost thought I was the one facing Alex Anderson at the pinnacle of wrestling on that fated night. Naturally, Alex Anderson's effort shouldn't go unnoticed. He fought valiantly in an effort to remove the chip that's been on his shoulder for so long, but came up short by a matter of seconds and inches which ultimately resulted in a boulder replacing that aforementioned chip. There's nobody on the EAW roster more motivated and passionate to become successful than Alex Anderson, but it's a double-edged sword; a blessing and a curse. Alex Anderson is constantly on the cusp of greatness, and every match I watch him partake in I can't help but think that he's the next big thing in EAW. I can't help but retain the idea that he's the future in spite of how many failures and setbacks befall him. I was confused for a while, unsure of what to make of Alex Anderson, unsure of whether he's a rare prodigy who hadn't yet fulfilled his potential by reaching the promised land he seeks or if he's just another pretender with big city dreams and a small town work ethic. Never have I been more capable of discerning what he represents than I was when I watched him fail to capture the World Heavyweight Championship against Tyler Parker. He conned the fans, he deceived the masses, he told everyone to expect greatness, he gassed himself up like it was the last day of his life on occasion after occasion, event after event, speech after speech... And then before a crowd filled to the brim with adoring fans and female admirers alike, Alex Anderson squandered an opportunity at glory that was handed to him. So the question is, Alex, if you can't thrive on that lavish grand stage they call Pain for Pride in your biggest opportunity to date, when can you?

You may very well be Adolf Hitler, Alex, but it isn't because you're a charismatic orator capable of drawing the allure of thousands even when you blatantly lie and cheat them out of the truth. You're Hitler because you're a hypocrite. You're Hitler because you bring innocent lives terror and destruction when all they desire is peace. You're Hitler because you only have one testicle, and whether that's figurative or literal, it's the truth. You lied to the EAW universe and told them you were worthy of the main event of Pain for Pride. You showed out at the grand event like expired milk and were equally sour after your unfortunate defeat. You may have a few petty victories over me under your belt, but what else do you have? Failed championship pursuits, a failed pursuit to defeat your sworn enemy Tyler Parker, and a rage-fueled jealousy that drives you to spit on the success of Xavier Williams and Devan Dubian because the fans recognize their talent while they ignore yours. They turn a blind eye to Alex Anderson not because they loathe and despise what you do in that squared circle, but because of what you say. I don't know a single other elitist in EAW that attempts to draw favorable parallels between themselves, Joseph Stalin, and Adolf Hitler. You're reaching for shock value, for recognition that you crave like water on a hundred degree summer day. For you, it doesn't matter how you obtain that recognition, whether it's through ridiculous comparisons or making a mockery of Pain for Pride with that piss-poor display you put on just a few short days ago. It all serves as a means to an end for the fans to notice Alex Anderson, for the audience to give you attention you've repeatedly failed at garnering on your own merits. Having a voice that's soothing to the ears goes hand in hand with being charismatic, but nobody likes the cacophonies you spew on a weekly basis and so you direct your bitterness toward the fans when you know that you're the problem. So, yes, I didn't impress Alex Anderson at Pain for Pride when I did my part in winning those coveted championships. That tangent you went on about me competing in EAW's weakest division is an amusing delusion, but I'll go ahead and entertain your thought-process. If Y2Impact is competing in the weakest division in EAW and thriving, what does that say for Alex Anderson, who competed in arguably EAW's best division and showed fans worldwide he was nothing more than a miscast doomed to fall back in its worst? I'm versatile enough to compete effectively in any division I'm in, and if the last few months have been any indication, the best Alex Anderson can do is tread the waters of a shallow pond before ultimately drowning in the vast ocean.

HBG: Andd... CUT! We should probably find food and fresh water somewhere. We also have to keep moving, I'm sure rescue teams will be looking for survivors.

Y2Impact: ... Wait a minute. 

[Y2Impact walked towards one tree. He then, with one hand, pushed said tree to the side. With ease.]

HBG: Wow, you're strong. Could it be that you also developed super strength?

Y2Impact: No. There's a door behind this tree. We're not on a real tropical island, we've been in a movie set all along. 

HBG: Well, that's embarrassing. Doesn't explain our memory loss, still. 

[Y2Impact opened the door, and he and HBG walked out of the movie set, while still talking about how they've gotten there in the first place. End of Scene.]

☤In an undisclosed location on the planet, Tiberius Jones appears in a murky warehouse seated in a corner running his fingers across the National Elite Championship while he smiles.  He doesn’t have his associates as usual, but yet he seems oddly content as a devious look to him encompasses his expression before he speaks. ☤

I won.

Oh yes. I’m alone today as you see, because my accomplices are having their own concerns. Concerns people ought to be worried about because they’ll eventually turn into plotting, destruction and all the nasty stuff you can imagine. My best friend Joseph Anubis mourns the defeat of our glorious “leader” Jaywalker. Big ol cold as ice Jaywalker is taking in his defeat at Pain for Pride and worse to him the fact that his favorite brand Dynasty is being closed down.

But that’s the thing. Dynasty is gone. Dynasty is dead.

What could be more music to a thief’s ear than word that those he stole from are no more? To know that you took something and then hear that there is no one around to punish you for it or take back what was once theirs, there is no greater tune to dance to!

The Dynasty GM Sebastian, he’ll never get to punish me for that slick contract trick Joseph and I played to get what we wanted.

The whole Dynasty roster will have to live with the fact that the ship went under while I abandoned ship on my lifeboat with the National Elite Championship I made no effort in trying to defend more times than I had to. I can admit to that now, I purposely didn’t give those losers on Dynasty opportunities at my gold. Tybull was right about the things he said about me when it came to avoiding him, but who cares? We’re no longer in the same locker room.

I pulled off the greatest caper known to man, and I have this bad boy to show for it.

☤Tiberius kisses the NE Title and then laughs. ☤

I must be a real Karma Houdini, can you guess why?  Because not only do I get away with everything I’ve  done on Dynasty, on Battleground I get put in a champion vs champion match against a guy who pretty much almost got himself killed in a losing effort at Pain for Pride in that crazed Cash in the Vault match! All while I’m fully rested and heathy as can be as your suave and debonair National Elite champion.

How’s it going Zach Genesis?

You walking good?

You walking right??!!!

I saw you go through that flaming table. I saw the medical staff come for you.

What are you going to do when you have to compete with me? You’ve never wrestled anyone half as savage as me. Sure you’re a freak, but I’m a beast, I’m the Komodo dragon.

Don’t you see? There’s no reward for your pain, oh sure I’m sure other losers and pity givers will say something real cute like “defeat and pain builds character”, but in reality all your efforts simply led to a Pain for Pride loss and injuries that you will carry into a match with a man you have no business being in the ring with in the first edition of Battleground.  If you knew what was good for you, laying down in that ring and simply giving me the victory would be best for you, so that you could recover and eventually after the draft perform on your brand in top conditioning. Of course we both know you won’t do that, that’s not the man pretty lil Tarah fell in love with, it’s not the man you raised yourself up to be when you came to this business to live your dreams! You can’t back down from one man when your woman didn’t back down from a whole division of women! You’re a champion! You’ll do things the hard way, you’ll fight, you’ll sweat and you might even bleed, and then you’ll lose. It’s all good to me, it’s not as real of a theft if someone just hands over the purse to snatch as soon as they see you, there comes a sense of accomplishment when it’s those who walk the streets with their pursed tucked in real tight that get robbed, there’s a certain rush to unlock a locked door to get your next meal ticket! Do what guys like you do best, come in swinging, come in to earn what you’ve worked for and put it in your head that you deserved the victory as you gain that great sense of entitlement all hard workers feel. All so that when you feel that what you deserved was taken from you, I’m the one that comes to your mind. In life you frequently come across people you might never remember, you have people in class rooms you sat in each day for months not knowing at all, you ride trains and buses with people every single morning without any impact as you all abide by the same schedule and we wrestlers walk in locker room seeing guys walk in and out of the company without any note of each other, but all it takes is one dramatic moment of someone taking something from you to have that person engrained in your mind forever. You will remember me, Zack Genesis.

I’m the stone the builders refused. As the saying goes, the stone rejected is the one to become the cornerstone, typically salvation speaking. Cleopatra would never give me a Dynasty contract, but I defeated her chosen warrior. Kevin Devastation didn’t think much of me either, I retired him. Sebastian said I wasn’t ready to face Corrupt for the National Elite Championship, I beat Christopher Corrupt one on one to become champion! EAW rejected me when I worked hard in the straight and narrow way of life, but now I’m the cornerstone of EAW! Not of salvation, but of every dark alley and street corner you ought not to venture, the slickest of the slick. I don’t know which brand I’ll be going to, but in the end it doesn’t matter, it’s all the same to me and Battleground exemplifies that fact. Battleground is the unification grounds for men and women from all over EAW to stab daggers into one another, here is where I’ll make the whole world see who is the best, and in this week who is the champion that stands over the other.


☤Camera fades to black. ☤

There it stood – the never-ending, menacing, dark alleyway. Broken beer bottles surrounded the edges, and a man—wearing a blazing red hood which stretched down to the bottom of his eyes—is spotted in between the bottles.  There he stood – carrying such a sinister aura which vibrated throughout the alley. The voice of the man resonates throughout the area.

Regret is such a strong word in our universe.

We plan on doing something, we absolutely have intentions of acting on those plans, and  when certain things do not go our way... we regret. We regret that we had not acted a certain way. The doctors you see fail to save lives go to sleep each and every night knowing that they could have acted a different way to save someone's life – your loved ones life. The elderly who lie in the bed knowing their life is only a matter of seconds away regretting not living their life a certain way. Why? Because they didn't do what they should have done. They lived their lives slaves to the system – the system that has programmed us to be modern-day slaves. How often do we see men and women living in today's capitalist society and follow orders which they rather wouldn't? The harsh reality of the matter is this:  we have been programmed to live our lives being slaves to the system, and you see, the avenue which I am in is far from that. The boulevard which I decided to walk down many years ago is a boulevard of both broken dreams and achieved dreams. On this boulevard, nothing is taken for granted. Everything is earned. I forever had these ideas in my mind that I could... well, I could do anything that I wanted. When it finally hit me that I couldn't do what I wanted and had to fight for my share, it turned me into a different animal. Alex Anderson was on the way to finally pursuing his dream once and for all, but what he realized was that the accomplishments he was receiving were not ample. Never. He was never satisfied. In that predicament, what can any man do? I was walking down that path of sanity and insanity, and on that line, I had come to grips with reality: I was no longer a human.

You heard correctly: Alex Anderson is not a human being.

He's a vile creature.

I grew up a poor kid who had nothing, but once I started getting something, that "something" wasn't enough. What I wanted after all was the world championship. It was my final destination. It was going to change my life around. It was going to bring me the happiness that I had lost years ago... and on Sunday night, I lost. For 45 straight minutes, I valiantly fought my greatest enemy in Tyler Parker. I was so close to finally retrieving what I had wanted – not just the championship, but just knowing that I defeated Tyler Parker of all men. I was sure I was going to win. I knew it. I had installed it within myself that I was going to win and a loss was not within the realms of possibility. When he struck me with the final depravity off of the top-rope, all that I could think of was my memories. Memories of my past-life. Memories of the life that I was living now. A plethora of memories were arising out of the blue, and I did something I had promised I would not do. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't. I laid down for the three-count. At first, I was angry. That match took everything that I had, and if I had to die in exchange for becoming the EAW world heavyweight champion, then I would have gladly done so. But I didn't. I didn't live up to my word, and I lost to Tyler Parker. To the 100,000 in attendance, I was simply a man who they looked at as the villain. Prior to Pain for Pride, I had compared myself to the likes of Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler... and I still hold that to be true. It's becoming more and more clear to me now that I cannot stop fighting. I don't enjoy losing. I don't enjoy having to look at myself in the morning and know that I still have not won the world heavyweight championship. That same look is tiresome and has left a dark cloud over my head. I want to rid this dark cloud, and now the question everyone asks:

What will Alex Anderson do now?

Has Tyler Parker taken everything away from me?

Millions of people across the world wait for the likes of Devan Dubian and Xavier Williams to succeed.

But even more than wanting them to succeed they want Alex Anderson to fail.

I've gotten quite used to this idea of myself being the residential scapegoat in Extreme Answers Wrestling. The majority of you believe that this is the end for me. I am sure that you all perceive me as just another man who never panned out to be what he said he would. To that, I don't wish for evil to happen to you. Veritably, I want you to continue disbelieving, because that makes me being victorious so much sweeter. Oh, yes... I not only embrace it, but I can't live without it. It fuels me like glucose does to the brain. You see, I will forever be changed by that loss to Tyler Parker, because it's reassured me what my true objective is now. My objective is to regain the moniker of the Ace of EAW. That is the the sole thing which Tyler Parker has taken from me. Until I feel worthy of doing so, I will never call myself the ace. However long of a process this may be, I'm 27 years old and time is the only constant which I have in my life. My eyes are now set on defeating the legendary Y2Impact on July 5th.

Sunday night will mark a new chapter in the book of Alex Anderson, and you are exactly the man I want, Y2Impact. Only a matter of days prior to Pain for Pride, I defeated the greatest extremist in the history of this company – Mr.DEDEDE. When it comes to men who can dispute that claim, there only exist two: Jaywalker—a man who I've already defeated—and you, Y2Impact. The reasoning behind me needing you in that ring is as simple as answering an elementary-school math question: I want to elevate myself. Though I've never seen you as an intimidating figure in the previous encounters that we have, I know your worth. I see the worth in every man that walks in this company, and I know if I can use them to propel myself in any way, shape, or form, then I will gladly do so. The same will be done when you and I are locked-in within the caustic squared-circle. I will use to propel myself and once again place myself in the conversation for the world heavyweight championship. You, on the other hand... well, I don't know what direction your career is taking. I mean, it's awesome – you're doing great things with the love of your life, if that's what she is to you. I don't care. What I do know is that you didn't impress me at Pain for Pride. You didn't show me anything that I haven't seen before. 

Congratulations, you won a championship in the weakest division in EAW. That was just a warm-up match for this match on Sunday night. I'll be ready, but I'm not quite sold that you will be.

Faber est quisque fortunae suae.

The man pulls out of his pocket a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting it up, he begins to smoke the cigarette. Blowing the smoke in the direction of the camera, the camera—in synchronization—fades to black.

(The scene opens up as a very expensive looking limo pulls up in front of a building located in Washington, DC with a crowd of fans and paparazzi's awaiting for a very famous person to come out of the limo. As the back door opens a tall muscular figure wearing all black comes of the limo. The man could possibly be about Six Foot and Four inches tall, then Angelo Brando comes out right after and then one by one another man that is almost Seven Foot tall comes out the limo right after him. After the Seven foot tall man came out, there was another guy that was a bit shorter compared to the other two men dressed in black. He could possibly be Six Foot and Three inches and last but not least their was a middle aged woman that comes out last dressed in all black, with a mini skirt and what looks to be a business attire and also sporting glasses and she is also carrying a book. As Angelo and his crew all steps out of the limo, his female fans starts screaming and start taking pictures on their phones and the paparazzi starts moving in to get a closer look on Angelo. But as soon as they do two of the bodyguards gets into the position to protect Angelo. But the guy that's Six Foot and Four inches tall bodyguard kneels down on knee letting Angelo get on him and sits on his shoulders. As the that Six foot four inches tall bodyguards gets to a vertical base, and while carrying Angelo all of them starts walking towards the building and enters the door.)


(The scene opens back up as Angelo Brando is sitting in a recording room as his two of his biggest bodyguards sits outside of the room while the smaller bodyguard and the woman are in the room with Angelo. Right in front of him is an interviewer that's wearing an EAW merchandise on and looks excited to interview Angelo Brando.)

Interviewer:  Welcome Angelo to my studio it's nice to meet you man.

(The interviewer stands up to shake Angelo's hand but Angelo just looks at the interview's hand and just sat down and propped his feet on the table. As the interviewer looks a bit confused he shrugged off the blatant rudeness of Angelo, but the woman accompanying  Angelo went to shake the interviewer's hand in place of Angelo. As the interviewer sits back down in his seat and gets everything ready for the podcast. Then he counts down from five and when he hit zero to speak.)

Interviewer: AAAAAND welcome to the Pro Wrestling Insider podcast and I am your host, THE ONE AND ONLYYY BOOB DYLAN! Now as we all know I'm sure the mainstream media has covered this but the most shocking thing has happned. And I'm not talking about Pain For Pride which is dubbed to be biggest spectacle in ALL of the wrestling world! What I'm talking about is the signing of the contract when my guest Angelo Brando made it public that he is now an official member of the EAW roster. Angelo, my question to you is, how does it feel?

Angelo Brando: Uhh, okay I guess. I'm just loving the simple fact that I'm getting more of the spotlight. But what's funny to me is that you spend thousands of dollars for all of this for fake wrestling. You kidding me dude? 

Bob Dylan: Now Angelo, we are all aware that wrestling is scripted but EAW is a different place that delivers real shit. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything man but do you even know the first thing about wrestling?

Angelo Brando: No. I don't need to know because I have all the money in the world bay-bay. If anything EAW should be honored that I signed a contract with them because finally it and the wrestling world is getting a bit of realism in myself.

Bob Dylan: Realism? Reall--

(Angelo cuts Bob off before he could finish his sentence.)

Angelo Brando: Yes, really Bobby boy. I was actually at Pain For Pride yesterday, well at least for Day One anyways and I was impressed a bit. I was impressed that they have quite a following and through my eyes that's the only reason why I'm even decided to sign with the company. Other than that, it's just a bunch of men and women playing pretend. I mean I come from the entertainment world and I can easily go out there and outdo every single person that was on that show and then some.

Bob Dylan: I see well you are one of THOSE types of people that EAW is going to deal with. Actually the marks and myself are going to be looking forward to see you getting broke in and realize that this shit that you are walking into  thinking it's a game. So we'll see man either you sink and swim and the people in the wrestling world will be looking forward to see you sink. 

(Angelo Brando starts to chuckle a bit and then licks is lips a bit and proceeds talking once more.)

Angelo Brando: Oooh it looks like I just struck a nerve my man. Let me try to apologize to you. Sorry for being two hours late for your little interview. I'm sorry for being so rude to you when I didn't shake your hand or even acknowledge that you were even in my presence. AND I'm sorry that you devote your life into absolute shit that is pro wrestling that is EAW. But don't you worry man because when I make my debut, I'm going to make you and every loser that devotes their time and money to his "EAW Brand" that it'll finally be worth it. I'm like the second coming of Jesus to this little thing called Pro Wrestling.

Bob Dylan: Okay okay dude, before I lose my cool just answer me this. Is there anyone on the EAW roster do you feel you can outdo or which match do you see yourself being in if you were on the Pain For Pride 8 card?

Angelo Brando: Well that's simple actually, if I had to choose I can do outdo every single person on that card with one hand tied behind my back. Despite my lack of experience in this thing called fake wrestling. I will bring some real world shit and take out anyone. So I guess you can say that's my warning to anyone on the roster. Speaking on what match I would like to be apart of, well that's simple. The Extreme Enigma battle royal, I saw who one the match and it's some dirt poor little man that thinks he has done something in the fake wrestling business in tribute to someone who's not even in the company anymore. So if I won that match well I can say that I would win it in such a fashion that everyone including EE would be in the shadow of my victory. My win ALONE would rewrite the panels OF TIME AND THEN THE NAME EXTREME ENIGMA----

(Bob Dylan slams his fist on the table which startles everyone in the room, including Angelo, the woman and one of his bodyguard. Then Bob stands up and throws his headset to the side with his face burning bright red as it looks like he was going to explode.)

Bob Dylan: OKAY THAT'S FUCKING IT!! I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU AND YOUR DISRESPECTFUL ASS! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING INTO MY PROPERTY, IN MY ESTABLISHMENT TREATING ME THE WAY YOU DO AND DISRESPECTING EVERYONE IN THE WRESTLING WORLD!!! AND THE LAST THING THAT A GREENHORN LIKE YOU NEEDS TO DO IS CLAIM THAT YOU ARE BETTER THAN THE GREATS AND THE MEN AND WOMEN WHO GO OUT THEIR AND RISK THEIR LIVES TO IMPROVE ON THEIR CRAFT AND SHOW THE WORLD THAT THEY ARE THE BEST!!! ALSO YOU SILVER SPOON FED TWIT THAT YOU NEVER EVER SPEAK ILL OF EXTREME ENIGMA BECAUSE YOU AREN'T EVEN THE FRACTION OF A MAN THAT HE IS AND NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO, NO MATTER IF YOU EVEN ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING BECAUSE NO ONE IN THIS WORLD WILL NEVER EVER FORGET THE NAME EXTREME ENIGMA!!

(As Bob Dylan finished his passionate rant, Angelo couldn't help but laugh as his tells his bodyguard that is in the room with him not to put his hands on Bob. Then Angelo gets up with a cocky smirk on his face and looks at Bob Dylan straight in the eye. Then Angelo goes in and pinches Bob Dylan's cheek like someone would do to a toddler. But as Angelo goes in Bob quickly slaps Angelo's wrist before before Angelo's hand touches him.)

Angelo Brando: Woaaahh, feisty aren't we? You know word of advice Bobby boy, I do what I want, when I want. It doesn't matter if this is your place because if I wanted to I can buy you all out and leave everyone employed here without a job, including you. Think about it man, you won't even be able to feed your family and you would cost a lot of people who NEEDS this job to work for you to survive and ensure the future of their own financial well being and their families. But you know I'm not going to do that, I'm actually going to do this so next time you see me you won't be as disrespectful next time. 

(Angelo OUT OF NOWHERE LANDS A SUPERKICK SQUARE ON THE CHIN OF BOB DYLAN LAYING HIM OUT! As Bob is laid out on the grown, the woman with Angelo face palms and let out a huge sigh.)

Victoria (the woman): Dammit Angelo, why the hell you do that for!?

Angelo Brando: To be fair it was self defense, he disrespected me and where I came from so I came back at him. But did you see that superkick though? Now that's some real shit right there and NOBODY can get up from that!!

Axel (the bodyguard that was in the room with Angelo and Victoria.): You're right boss they have NO IDEA what's comin' to them yo! But all this excitement I need to go to the bathroom.

(Both Vicki and Angelo looks at Axel with a blank stare on their faces until the look on Angelo's face change to what seems he had a bright idea)

Angelo Brando: Actually Axel, that's not a bad idea, what I want you to do is to whip that sucker out and piss on ole Bob Dylan here since he wants to be Mr. Superhero here and defend everyone. Also Victoria, I want you to take pictures and also record it and send it all over every SINGLE social media outlet.

At the Same time but Victoria had a bit more reluctance in her voice (Axel and Victoria): Right!!

(The scene slowly fades out when Axel unzips his pants and proceeds to piss on Bob Dylan while both Angelo and Victoria takes pictures and record the event.)

( The scene opens up with JJ in his locker room leaning over in a chair in his workout gear clinching his fist. Jason is standing by the locker having a very nervous look on his face. He takes one step forward and talks with in a very low tone voice.)

Jason: JJ.. I know you're mad but I think you need to just...

JJ: SHUT UP JASON! (JJ Stands up and grabs Jason by his shirt slamming him into the wall.) DO NOT TELL THE ICON WHAT HE NEEDS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!

(JJ throws Jason to the ground before turning to the camera.)

JJ: I'M THE TRUE INTERGALACTIC CHAMPION DACHS! SCREW YOUR RULES! You agreed to terms and you were beat! I'm going to personally take MY title from you Dachs and you know what you're going to do about? Not a damn thing. ( JJ face gets a way more serious expression on his face.) Okay fine, you're going to grab your balls out of your wifes purse and we are going to settle this how it should be! You lose at something you agreed to and now you want to pull your trump card out? Okay fine, It's time to lay all the cards out on the table Maxwell Dachs. It's not secret that I hate you Dachs, but I have a reason to hate you. I hate you because you act like everything you do reeks of greatness and should be worshiped and noticed by everyone. Hey, but you hate me to don't you? (JJ starts pacing.) You don't just hate me because of how I speak, no no, you hate me because you know just as everyone in the EAW knows that I am better than you! I'm a better wrestler, I'm a better talker and I'm without a doubt a better Intergalactic Champion than you!

 You think you're going to try and screw me out of MY title, well I dare you to try because I will make sure people remember the name Maxwell Dachs. You see, they won't remember you as The Intergalactic Champion, they will remember you as the man who JJ Silva ended! I said I would beat you and just like I said, I did. By regulation of EAW, I'M THE INTERGALACTIC CHAMPION! You have stole the belt from me Dachs, haven't you learned your lesson yet? You can't hold a candle to The Icons flame. The perfect analogy for our situation is you just can't accept the fact that you're robin and I'll always be batman. You honestly think people agree with how good you think you are? The answer to that question is quite simple, it's no. The truth is you suck. It's sad really, not only do you suck, but you're the most boring person to watch in not only the EAW but in this entire sport. You're ignorance that you speak is rather annoying to the common decent wrestler. I heard you were aggressive but I seen nothing out of you since the first moment you stood across the ring from me Maxwell. I WANT MY TITLE BACK DACHS! I really don't want it to go to the next level but you're simply pushing your luck at this point. I'M THE BEST THING TO CROSS YOUR PATH AND YOU KNOW JUST AS I KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE A PRAYER AGAINST ME! I WILL NOT BE DENIED WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY MINE!

(JJ punches a hole in his locker room wall. He lets his hand rest in the hole for a moment as he tries to get himself together. He lets out a deep sigh before pulling his hand out of the wall and turns his attention back to the camera.)

 You brought the belt into the EAW in hopes that it would put you over and you just can't accept the fact that you have lost the only potential chance you had to make something of yourself. You can claim I was nothing until you but we both know that is not true. Unlike you my talents were noticed, I didn't have to create something to be noticed. Also unlike you, I have natural talent. It burns in you doesn't Dachs? Of course you can't admit that can you? Too much pride, but I guarantee even that pretty little wife of yours agrees with The Icon. Maybe she should trade up to a real man or better yet, The Intergalactic Champion, JJ Silva. Alexandria, I don't blame you if you ditch that pip squeak. You deserve a winner, not a loser. If you decide you want to trade up, you know where my locker room is(JJ sends a winks to the camera.)    

  (JJ looks at Jason with a disgusted look on his face and just shakes his head at Jason.)


 Jason: Sir..?

 JJ: It's time to go to training, grab my bags and let's go.

 (Jason lifts the bag onto his shoulder and sort of stumbles with the weight of the bag and JJ's water bottle falls out of the bag. JJ turns his attention to Jason before walking over to pick the water bottle.)

 Jason: I'm sorry, the bag is just a little heavy sir..

 JJ: Oh no don't apologize. (JJ unscrews the lid of the water bottle and takes a drink.)

 Jason: Oh.. Oka..--- (JJ spits the water in Jason's face and pushes him over and all of JJ's things fall out of the bag.)

 JJ: NOW PICK IT UP AND MEET ME IN THE GYM! YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS YOU NUISANCE !

 (Jason begins to hurry to pick up the things as JJ walks out and the camera fades to black.)