The scene opens in San Diego, California. Tony Santos, having taken a late night flight from Fort Lauderdale, Florida (the place which he happened to never leave for an entire week following his failed excursion home) to Warfare's hometown, was quite exhausted and a bit delirious. Tony was used to only the occasional time zone change, and this continual change from Eastern Time to Pacific Time was beginning to wear on him. The camera panned in on Tony's hotel room, a dimly lit hole that Tony had purposely paid a bargain basement price for. The cameraman flicks on the camera light, only to see Tony... groping a poster on the wall. A poster of none other than... Shane .

Tony looks up, noticing the light against the wall, and immediately bounces back from the white wall. Before spinning around to face the camera, Tony tidies himself and his clothing, bunches his long, brown hair in to a ponytail, and does a 180° so as to face the camera. Tony lets out an awkward cackle, then brushes his eyebrows with his hands.

Santos: Oh, erm, hello! I, um, well. Um.

Tony brings his finger up to his mouth as he tilts his head to the ground, contemplating what to say in this awkward situation. He meekly raises his head, eyebrows arched, as he faces the camera once again.

Santos: Well, folks, I must be honest with each of you. You've caught me redhanded. Kimmy K exposed me for what I am. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm a brown-nosing, ass kissing, show-shining son of a gun. Whose ass, you might be wondering? Whose shoes? Well, XWF fans, I think it's quite obvious, considering what you've just witnessed. It's none other than...



Shane ...

Tony hangs his head in shame, considering what he's done, the choices he's made.

Santos: How did I get to this point? What turned me in to a glorified Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel Air? Why must I... why must I... oh god, it's too much!

Tony drops to the floor, immediately bawling his eyes out. His shame was evident, his insecurities revealed to the world. Tony hides his face in his hands as his tears attempt unsuccessfully to conceal his tears.

Santos: I just... I...

Tony stops, releasing his hands from his face, his sad face turning into one of hilarity. Tony breaks into a fit of laughter, as he rolls on the floor, his ribs visibly moving up and down as he laughs in an almost painful fashion. Tony slaps the floor with his left hand as he slowly allows his laughter to subside. His right cheek pressed against the cold, hard wooden floor, Tony's body shakes slower and slower as he begins drooling, his spittle flowing from his mouth like a busted oil well.

Santos: Everyone! This match is rigged! Kimmy said so! Kimmy "I can't win a match but I can sure bake you cookies and tell you how fantastic you are" K, with the credibility of a fucking mosquito trying to sell you on the benefits of the West Nile Virus, is telling you who's pulling the strings around here. Kimmy fucking K. The girl without a last name. The girl who was lucky to get her god damn foot on the ropes last week and save herself from at least one week of vacation. The girl with a sister who, seemingly a month ago knew nothing about the XWF or wrestling as a whole, has now trumped Kimmy in said subject.

Yes, we're supposed to trust a girl who has no insider knowledge on anything related to this company, who gets lucky with superior partners and sneaky tactics, and with the brain of a gnat to tell us how things work around here. Damn, I've been doing it all wrong! Luca's been doing it all wrong! The whole Black Circle has been doing it all wrong! They've been sucking the eye patch of Shane when they should've been sniffing the flowers from Kimmy K's perfect garden! She knows it all, everything, which is why...

She's insignificant? Wait... She's done nothing of note in this company? Has an alter ego that's more menacing than she is? One who can only be summoned by looking in to a fucking mirror? Oh... that girl.

Yeah, let's listen to her.

She is right on one thing, though. She is gonna lose, and without dignity. I'm gonna burn that girl's hair like her middle school bullies should've done a long damn time ago. If only I had more time to plan, I'd pull a spraying flower trick, except, well, the liquid would be acid. Perhaps I could blind that poor bitch and forever alter her perception of what this life is really all about.

See, I'd rather she not get the piss slapped out of her golden shower bathtub of a piehole every time she steps in to a ring. I'd rather she not have to face the cold hard facts of life over and over again. I'd rather she figure it out once and for all, understanding how cruel this life is, as well as how unforgiving the characters are within it. Unfortunately, Saturday night won't change a damn thing. She'll get knocked around, realize that her cheerleader kick does nothing for her, and find herself on her back (a mark of her future profession), staring at the lights, counting with the ref...

1...

2...

3.

Because Kimmy K is the weakest link, and I hope this time she realizes that she's the permanent weakest link...

But she won't.

And Kinwrathi. He's a lost cause with no drive. A man that seems to want to make something of himself, of this place, but he just doesn't have it. Unlike Kimmy K... who should consider repackaging herself as a KKK sympathizer... Kinwrathi doesn't actually give a shit. It's why he couldn't get it done against myself and ESP last week, and it's why he'll fail again. He spouts off big words, but he carries over no real meaning. While Kinwrathi counts down the hours, minutes, and seconds to his next appearance... his next opportunity to showcase his wordcraft and ability to the world, I'm counting down the three seconds that matter. The three seconds that, should Ms. K not be the one to face the final fall, Kinwrathi will witness. He's a man shooting for 15 minutes of fame who couldn't even grab 15 seconds of recognition. Fortunately for him, he'll likely get more than 15 seconds in that ring...

Well, if he's lucky.

Tonight, while I abhor Egyptian Snow Pharaoh and her lack of geonavigational ability, we'll finish off two weaklings. Tonight, we continue blazing our path through a tournament that Kimmy K and Kinwrathi, considering their own unique paths to getting here, had no justification for being in. Then, ESP and I will likely have our opportunity to face off, without me being handicapped by that Palestinian waste of breath named Salman Van Dam, and we'll settle our differences once and for all. However, tonight, we embarrass some children.

Kimmy K, tonight, I hope the game is rigged. That makes it that much easier for me. Goodnight, princess.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion