"Well, looks like we're here once again."

The scene opens up to a playground at night, being filmed on a shitty handheld camera. You'd think that after all this time, Luca and company would invest in better recording equipment but no. That'll never happen. Through the darkness and the poor quality, you can vaguely make out a figure in the foreground, spinning around and around on a beaten up, rusted metal carousel. One hand on a handle, the other wrapped around a half empty bottle of cheap booze. The carousel slows to a stop and the figure hops off. Stumbling around at first, he shakes loose the cobwebs and straightens himself out, chucking the bottle across the playground. It lands with a loud shatter to which he laughs.

"Come on, look alive everyone! You don't seem too happy to see me!"

Luca shakes his head and beckons the camera operator closer. Our view of him increases subtly with each and every step until finally we're sure it's unmistakably him, even with the time of day and quality of recording's interference.

"Another match with Gilmour, eh? What, does anyone expect a different result than any of the other times we've met in the ring? Is there anyone who knows what both of us are capable of, who's still betting on a Gilmour victory? And I mean that honestly, not just someone who doesn't like me and likes Gilly slightly better who hopes he wins to spite me. Does anyone with a functioning brain think Gilly has a chance? No, not even that he's going to win. Not that he's going to win. Just that he has a fucking chance of not embarrassing himself-- and he already did that. If you guessed he wouldn't, you don't know the guy, that's for sure. Dude finds a new way to make himself look like an asshat each and every time he opens his mouth. Be it by bitching about being a talentless scrub (while calling bullshit on all his losses, even when no funny business goes down no less), talking about how his dick was hard when he came out of his mom, or insisting for the millionth time that his wife of the month is most assuredly not a man. The guy is literally incapable of speech if it doesn't in some way show that he's either a whiny bitch, a talentless bitch, or a fucking gay bitch. Often times all at once!"

He starts to laugh, not wickedly because he's not a fuckboy, just normal everyday laughter like a normal person.

"What, you expect me to magically come up with more things to say about Gilly? Shit man, I've been repeating myself for two fuckin' years when it comes to this guy! Everyone has! As a person, the guy hasn't changed the slightest fucking bit since the first time I insulted his delusional ass. He's not going to change, he never will change. He's incapable of it. Sure, he'll say he's gonna change. He's gonna call himself some dumb new nickname, maybe get more liposuction only to get the fat surgically added back to him or whatever the fuck. He'll paint his nails black and start wearing eyeliner. He'll do all these things on the exterior to trick some of the simple minded folk on the roster that yeah, he did change like for real this time but then he'll open his mouth and it'll all come flooding back. The same obsession with dudes suckin' his dick. The same shitty taste in women who look like men. The same childlike attitude whenever anyone calls him on being the biggest shithead this side of the literal piles of shit he's been buried in. The same stupid hypocrisy. Seriously, if I came back and started defending Peter from the hordes of people who still think talkin' shit to him is edgy and cool, he'd latch himself onto my taint and beg me to drag him to some kinda relevance like I was his new Unknown Soldier or Dimallisher or anyone who looks at him without disgust on their face. That's just who he is. He is that, all of that, and he's never going to change."

He turns away from the camera for a second and looks back to where he chucked the bottle, suddenly regretting ridding himself of his reprieve.

"Eh, fuck it. Whatever. See, there's one thing I gotta mention about myself before we even crack open what he said in his promo to me. I ain't much different than I was when we first encountered each other. I'm very much the same drug abusing, rule screwing, douchebag that I always have been and I ain't gonna change that bit about myself so of course I'm gonna keep on loving fucking with the big guy. It ain't edgy or cool, hell it wasn't even a novelty when I fuckin' revolutionized the practice back in twenty-thirteen but damned if it ain't effective. It's a goddamn stress reliever is what it is. See, for a second I was concerned about this most recent return. How I was gonna far against this current crop of talent that's popped up and then I remembered, in my big return I'm main eventing Warfare against Peter fuckin' Gilmour! Shit couldn't have changed a whole lot since I last poked my head in. Hey, where's Lane to cry that I'm in the main event and not some mediocre fuck who's there every week because he cries whenever people like me, people who've made their mark and will actually be remembered are the kinda people that the fans wanna see? I look at this card and I see two people worth a fuck: my nigga Cain, and LH Harrison who really ain't worth much of a fuck but is still kinda cool people seven outta ten. That's it. That's all. Good fuckin' night.

I didn't even realize it, but my back hurts from carrying Gilmour's fat ass to main event. He should be thanking me in all his promos about how just by occupying the ring at the same time I am, I'm boosting his stock by like three hunna percent but no, he's gotta hate. Of course he's gonna come right outta the gate with the ignorant shit that made him the punching bag we all laugh at today just like we did in twenty-fourteen just like we did in twenty-thirteen just like we did the day he came outta his mom's snatch with a hard fuckin' dick. Shit, some of y'all don't even know he said that shit. He fuckin' did and it was hysterical.

But what did he say about me this week? Well take a guess, you folks who know his usual plan of attack against the likes of little ol' me. Did he say I suck John Madison's dick? Does he talk about John Cena? Does he rant about the Dub like a salty mark and not someone in the business? Does he call me gay and say he's gonna kill me/bury me/fuck me in the ass/but he isn't gay in anyway and he's fiance is totally a woman? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. To all of the above and all of the other Gilly tropes you can think of because that's Gilly for ya. Can't get dates right, doesn't know what year he's in right now, doesn't even know the fuckin' matches we had that he's referencing shit I can just stop right here, you know all of this shit. He doesn't know half of what he's talkin' about ever and right now he's barely at ten percent. But for those of you new here, lemme give you a rundown on the Luca/Gilly feud.

From my arrival in the greatest stable of all time, The Black Circle in March of Twenty-thirteen all the way up until that one time I died at the end of Twenty-thirteen, I fucked with GIlly hardcore. Talked shit to him all the time, you name it. We didn't even meet in the ring until June but by then he decided he wanted to bury me or whatever dumb shit it was that time. Then our first match came: Wild Card Weekend. The main event because somehow he managed to gobble up a case like they were in one of the troughs at his local buffet. I eliminated his ass. I went hard as a motherfucking motherfucker and won the whole thing. First guy to beat Eli James IV, no big deal. See, eliminating Gilly wasn't even the second biggest thing I did in that match!

Then our second match came in August where I whooped his skinny fat ass again and made him look fuckin' foolish a second time. Honestly, I'm taking credit for seventy-five percent of his brain damage. The other's natural/poor upbringing. Fuck man, I'm the reason Gilly is this dumb. You're all welcome. I expect a shrine built in my honor for being the man that would, and did.

Then I died and shit. Whateves. Rise from the fuckin' Grave like Lazarus and then called myself Lazarus. Fuck man, I did defend poor little Gilly from the mean ol' bullies once with that mask on. He loved me. Go figure. Classic Gilly. You could almost say it's Gilmour, Classic.

Now I ain't sayin' I was really Gilmour Classic, but I so was.

Another reason for Gilly to hate me! Right there! Come on bitch, dig your painted fuckin' lady nails into me.

That's Gilly. That whole promo he cut on me? That's him. That's literally all there is to the guy. It's sad, ain't it? That he's that pathetic of a dude and he ain't ever gonna wise up?

You might think that because you have some kinda sympathy. I think it's hilarious. Dude wants to kill me, let him try.

Sadly, though, I cannot die.

And it rhymed! Look out for mixtape. Shit's bout to drop any day now."

Luca laughs and waves for the camera, before gesturing for the operator to cut it off.