Cameras follow Steve Sayors as he side steps through the back, dodging and weaving through trainers and backstage personnel. He looks back at the camera and raises his microphone to his face as he walks.

“Evening, XWF Universe! Mere hours away from the main event of Wednesday Night Warfare, ‘Irish’ Eddie Sheehan versus Jessica Diaz, Last Man Standing Match for #1 contendership for the X-Treme Championship.”

“Of course, perhaps this match's big question-mark is the X-Treme Champion himself, Mark Flynn.”

Sayors stops. Standing in front of Mark Flynn’s locker room. Whispering, cautious, his history with Flynn, warranting as much tact and care as possible.

The XWF broadcasting veteran looks back at the camera.

“Only thing for sure when Flynn is calling the shots is that you can’t be sure of anything… We’ll try to get a word in with him before the big main event, to discern and translate his riddles and double speak into what his motivations will be as he effectively picks his challenger for next week…”

Sayors reaches to quietly open the door… His hand carefully reaching out for the knob…

It clasps around the golden orb…

And he slo-

The door pulls in. Standing in the doorway. Almost between Steve Sayors and his own right arm. Is Mark Flynn. Outfitted in full referee attire. Chewing on a grass green grannysmith apple. Juice dribbling down his chin. Giant smile on his face.

“Hey, Stevie. How can I help?”

Even with the friendly tone, just the sound of Flynn’s voice causes Sayors to reflexively wrench his arm back. Realizing his subconscious terror was caught on camera, he straightens his coat jacket and raises his microphone again.

“Mark Flynn, XWF superstar, X-Treme Champion, we were hop-“

“PLEASE.”

Sayors shields his face!!!!!!

…

Then peers in between his fingers. Flynn is merely holding up his free hand, palm out, urging Sayors to pause.

“Just Free-Win is fine.”

Sayors takes another deep breath and regains his composure.

“Free-Win Flynn. Guest referee for Wednesday Night Warfare’s main event. Mind giving the folks at home a hint or two as to what to expect from your officiating job tonight? Anything you’d like to tell our viewers, maybe a monologue about your schemes for the future and how they relate to this match specifically?”

A little transparent, but Sayors counts on Flynn taking any and every opportunity to pontificate… Sayors almost pre-emptively releases the mic for Flynn to steal it and give a story in return.

Flynn’s smile… doesn’t move a millimeter… Nor does his hand for the mic.

“I’m going to throw this match so Sheehan wins. Ignore if Diaz gets to the ropes or Sheehan bends rules. If Diaz’s shoulders eat mat, I’ll basically yell ten and call for the bell.”

Sayors… blinks… Smiles… Then frowns… Then blinks again.

“…Why?”

Free-Win steps back inside and closes the door.

“Thanks for the visit, Stevie.”

Click.

And Sayors is alone again.

He looks to the camera.

“Well… I …. Um…”

Silence.

XWF logo.

Black.