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Cain · (08-11-2014)

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to XWF.Com X(Treme) Factor. I'm your host, Steven Sayers, and joining me tonight is Cain Arkham. Cain, welcome to the show."

"...pleasure's all your's, Sayers."

If you are just joining us, then you've missed out on Cain's first serious trash talk promo. Also, you've missed out on the meeting between Cain and his partner for Monday Night, Mastermind. Let me set the scene for you. It appears that the two men are sitting in a locker room at the XWF arena. Wooden lockers behind them, and a bench under them. Cain is dressed from head to toe in the most expensive Armani suit, black with a red tie. Dressed to the nines. Aviator shades, black gator boots. He looks rather uninterested, Steve doing all he can to keep the Master of Murder's attention.

"So Cain..."

"That's Mister Arkham to you, bitch."

Sayers' mouth drops open in suprise as Cain makes the comment. But why should he be suprised? After all, this is Cain. The War Machine. The Master of Murder. Cain looked at Sayers, expectantly.

"Go ahead. Ask stupid questions.

"Ummm...I wasn't going to ask you anything st-"

"Bull-fuckin'-shit. Of course you're going to ask me stupid questions. That's all you fucking reporters do. If it's now "how do you feel about your opponent Monday Night", then it's "what's your opinion on the Mister Dubbya Gee Dubbya Eff situation?". Because those are the big issues here, right Steve?"

"Well..."

"You let me tell you something, you knob polishing, shit eating, waste of air. I fucking hate all four of my opponents Monday Night. We got a big titted bitch with a bad haircut, a

who thinks he's fuckin' Barishnakov(sp?), every dentist's wet dream, and LH Harrison. A man who wants to inspire us. A man who wants us to do good. Well, Steve, I don't DO good. That's the furthest thing from my mind. No, Steve, what I do is kick people's asses and fuck their names. In that order."

"Now, as for Mister WGWF, let me just say this..."

Steve Sayers quickly stops Cain.

"Wait! It's not good for business to mention that situation!"

"Fuck that. You know what, Sayers? What wasn't good for business was fucking Kendall Sawyer hitting me in the back of the head with her crutch. Oh no, fuck that..." He pokes Steve in the chest with his clawed finger. "...Paul Heyman. Twice that barrel bellied rat fink FUCK has screwed me. No matter what anyone fucking does, that son of a bitch holds me back. And why? Because he KNOWS that I could out wrestle any of his Alliance. He knows that I could KILL th-"

"-calm down, Arkham!"

Sayers nearly falls off the bench as Cain's large paw comes into contact with his jaw. Sayers' jaw has a welt on it as Cain stands up, his voice thunderous and full of rage.

"DON'T FUCKING INTERRUPT ME!"

He grabs our friendly backstage reporter by the collar and looms over him like the giant he is.

"Security!"

"Understand one thing, human. This...this is not a fucking gimmick. This thing you see before you? It is a cold...calculating...murderous beast straight from Hell. I don't call myself the Master of Pain because it's printed on a fucking t-shirt or Shane's scriptwriters pay me to say it. No. Romulus Winters would have, bevause he, Steve...is a character. But I'm fucking Cain Arkham! I am the real mother fuckin' deal, and I'm sick and tired of being screwed!"

A tense moment ensues as Sayers bottom lip quivers, his shirt ripped. His hair desheveled. A large bald man, wearing all black leads two younger men into the fray. The bald man places a hand on Cain's shoulder. The Master of Pain growls at the man.

"Get your filthy hand off of me, shitstain."

"Come on Cain...just let 'im go."

"Let him go, Cain...it's not worth it."

Cain sneers, releasing his grip on the frightemed reporter. Not because he wanted to. But he knew that A. The Brotherhood had his back and B. He should be focused on the Tag Team Match on Monday. He looks between the three security guards, then shakes his head. The flames of rage burn in his eyes as he exits the scene. The bald security guard picks up Sayers.

"Mister Sayers, are you okay?"

Sayers rubs his collarbone, his eyes distant as he watches the obviously wrathful Cain leave. He timidly nods to the security guard and stutters... "...y-yeah...I'm fine..."

-STATIC-

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