Ghost... stop. Just stop. You missed the point, as you always do. You traveled across the country to verify something we already know-- ya don't have C.Diff. Big fuckin' whoop. Dude, I was called a shemale countless times here in 2013 before I was decapitated. I bitched about my treatment instead of doing something about it, and I learned my lesson the hard way--


Reeve appears.





If you can't take the heat? Stay out of the kitchen. I'm prepared for the volcano. I'm prepared for the heat. But the only scorching will be to your ego when I strip you of your pride, as well as that ridiculous skull mask you parade around in. You're not me. "Thank God", right? Yet there's one thing you neglect. I truly am an entity that possesses the essence I claim... while you are a simple, mortal man trying to be what he couldn't realistically be in an eternity. You are a big, oafish, musclebound moron, while I have the power to become anyone in the history of this or any other planet. You talk about childish retorts, yet you resort to calling me about twenty two times. Then, right after that, and before another ten times, you berrate my so-called simplistic intelligence, and tell me I can't form decent comebacks... when you use the most juvenile slang as a crutch. Out of one entire promo, you could only find one truly sophomoric remark in my promo, regarding the joke that embodies you in this company. I found ten or so mentions of my intelligence, because that's what you had to rely on to get your point across. Trust me--

I'm not the ' ' one in this match. And neither am I the egotistical one.

I brought back Anarchy for the other stars, not myself. I brought it back to bring back that spark that used to exemplify the Shove-it brand before it was turned into a TRULY 'generic' show, before being cancelled altogether. Guest hosts, far-out locales, and the idea to have stips and combatants chosen by polls. This show was made to put the power in you guys' hands. Unfortunately, after the lackluster turn-out this week, the second episode may be the last as well. But I'm fine with that, because at least I did my best to make it a legit brand in this company. Regardless of what you may have thought of Anarchy, I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed working with the other stars here. It's not ego. It's passion. Something we both possess. But passion alone does not a warrior make. You're a strong, powerful, grown man who walks around with a scythe and chops peoples' heads off.

Just because you carry a weapon and wear a mask doesn't mean you're some kind of chosen being sent to take care of those whose time has come. Sir... I've been to hell. I've died, twice now, and both times? It wasn't some human with a severe lack of imagination that did me in. It was the hands of fate, and fate waits for no man. Not even you, Ozzy. I've been in this business for nearly two decades, and I've met many men who nearly struck fear into my eyes. A Dhampir [half human/half vampire] in Vlad. A registered psychopath in Kevin the Pyromaniac. A man much stronger, more powerful, and more driven than you in Scott Carr, a bastard that would make you run, crying all the way home to your wife/husband. OH, and by the way?

N. X. T. They evolved into a truly different brand, and you can bet your ass that that title means something. Why? Because it means the holder is making their way up the ladder, and is a sworn future prospect. You don't see the big picture. I want to help those who need a boost, to give them that stage to show the world what they're made of. You can rip it apart and you can rip into me and you can tell me the only thing I care about is the man in the mirror, but sir? You couldn't be further from The Truth. This business is my life. When I was a boy, the only escape I had from my parents' constant arguing was wrestling, and here you are, talking about how weak Anarchy is, how much the titles are meaningless. Not only those on Anarchy, but all of this company's "legit" championships other than the Xtreme title. If you can't see the forest for the trees, if you can't see the meaning in the titles that make men put their bodies on the line every night, then you need to find another line of work.

Others are afraid of you. I'm not. Others feel you're the baddest motherfucker in this promotion, but I do NOT. And it's because for all the randoms you swing a scythe at... I just don't see the heart.

My heart pumps the blood of this business. I live to wrestle, I fight to make an impact in this industry, I put my body on the line, day in, day out, so I can be what I dreamed of being when I was eight years old watching Randy Savage vs Ricky the Dragon. I wanted to be a star. I wanted to be a champion. I wanted to hold that twenty pounds of gold in my hands, look down at the nameplate, and see my name etched in. I wanted to hear the fans cheer for me as my music hit, I stepped through the curtains, and I walked that aisle. THAT, sir... that is why I brought back Anarchy. Because I wanted the men and women in the back to get that same feeling, to stand within that same aura and show the world what made them special. You can diss me... but regardless of if this coming show is the last or not, you can NOT spit on Anarchy. Because that's my hard work you're spitting on. That's the work of people who live for this game. Anarchy rocked the fucking house to the ground, not because of you, but because of the men and women who poured themselves into their work on that night. And the reason you didn't see that is because you sir, YOU are the egotistical BASTARD in this match.

And you willl learn your lesson the hard way, just as I did before you.

Believe... or Be left Behind.

~ + ~

The camera opens to the interior of an airplane, soaring through the wind. Reeve sits beside the window, gazing out at the early morning sun rise... he receives a cell phone call.

"Y'ello? ... KRUZ! Yo man, how's it hangin'?... Oh... oh, my. Well... I'm coming home. Get the boys and girls together...

"It's Showtime."

|believe|