CYREN: Who is my next opponent on that card beyond Black?

He's still in the shit and muk covered ring.

A grip shrugs his shoulders.

Cyren pees on him while he speaks.

CYREN: FUCK THIS SHIT! I don't give a fuck who else I face that night, I'm gonna LOSE! Or WIN! Possibly! I just wanna throw my entire body down their throat and explode within them, forcing their guts and epidermis to fling every which way!

At this, Cyren starts moshing to the music in his head.

He goes ballistic.

He picks up the grip and starts smashing his head into the turnbuckle!

ONE TIME.

TWO TIMES!

THREE TIMES!

X899

Around 902, the skull has been worn away and Cyren is covered in blood from head to toe. The man's splintered skull lays all around the ring, sharp shards of marrow stubbing Cyren's toe.

He curses.

He peers down the man's open neckhole.

He pokes the remains of the man's spine with his finger and suddenly the man's leg kick forward, nailing Cyren in the shin.

CYREN: God damnit!

He turns to another grip who was transfixed, wetting himself.

CYREN: What was this guy's name?

GRIP:... uhh... uhh... Steve Jason...

Cyren smiles and cums in his pants.