An envelope comes in through the mail room of the XWF HQ. No writing on it at all, it's a wonder how it even made it this far. Being the genius that holds the job of mail clerk, the idiot who sees it first decides to rip open the top. Turning it upside down, a single thing falls out.

A video camera's memory card.

Taken aback, the clerk decides to abandon his post and rush on over to the video producing department to get their take on what this means.

Once inside, he rushes over to one of the pimple faced geeks who works in the department and explains the whole story from start to finish (including the embarrassing incident of one of the maintenance guys walking on him jacking off to a picture of Sincere Lee Wild, but that's beside the point.)

The man's face turns to a pale, lifeless color. He snatches the card from the clerk's hand and sends him on his way, threatening to get him trouble for mail fraud.

Gulping and dreading every second of what is to come, the video production worker places the card into another camera and exports it over to his computer. Debating with himself for several moments, he decides to finally press...

Play.

The scene opens up to a shot of the sidewalk oddly enough (Though it could be noted that this sidewalk has much more personality than John Austin.) Coming into view is a pair of converse shoes. The camera pans upwards, revealing the legs of pair of black jeans. Even more so upwards, it catches a glimpse of a shirt that simply reads "Blarg" (Which is what everyone says aloud when CM Punk starts to talk.) Finally, the camera stops when it reaches the face of none other than Luca Arzegotti. The video man's worst nightmare just came true. Again.

"Hey guys! It seems that while I was busy being awesome, both John Austin and CM Punk have ran their mouths off like the predictable sons of bitches they both are! Now, do I care that one of them is my partner?

If you ask yourself that question, kill yourself.

But because he is my partner, I'll let him go first and get it over with. Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for 'God's Favorite Waste of Oxygen,' John Austin! The man who manages to bore me to sleep faster than Alex Richards talking about Detroit as if there isn't a Neil Capra on every corner. He puts a camera on him at all times as he goes through his mundane life of training.

Yes! This guy actually thinks people give enough of a fuck about him to have a camera on him as he trains with an out of shape hack of a 'legend'. Now, some of you who are scratching their heads wondering just who John Austin even is are probably thinking I'm exaggerating. I hate to break the news to you, but I'm not!

Johnny boy, it's really cute that you think these two simple things; that you're going to not only get the fall in this match, but challenge Madison and BEAT him, or that you think you can stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want to do in that ring.

If I want to enter the ring when I'm not the legal man, I'm going to. If I want to lay you out and let Punk or Senator take the win, I will. And I'll do it just because I can, because who needs a better reason to do something?

There you have it folks, my partner! Being humiliated by me!

Why?

Because I'm too good to contain myself to two people."

Camera still in his hand, Luca walks down the street and up to an apparent prostitute (the same type that's regularly employed by The Senator, we assure you) and hands her a $20 dollar bill.

"Hey Senator! Come to Madness, will ya? I even bought you a prostitute! What an undefeated streak, brought to an abrupt end by some stupidity. You see Samuels, I was waiting for it since I saw you capture the title from Neonero.

I knew you were going to drop the ball at some point.

I didn't expect it to be so soon, though.

You beat Nightmare, only to lose to CM Punk because you couldn't even be there? Hey, I faced CM Punk before, I know the feeling of embarrassment when your names is that close to his, but at least I came! Hell, maybe one of these ladies of the night was busy getting you to the same state when Punk was handed the title...

Oh well, your 'business engagements' also known as sucking Paul Heyman's dick in a Mexican bathroom stall, will likely keep you out again, so I offer you this prostitute if you do show up, Mr. Samuels."

Luca laughs as he walks away from the confused prostitute and back down the sidewalk. He stumbles over a homeless man, who was and still is asleep. He kneels down, and yells at the man:

"Punk! Is that you?"

He gets back up to a standing position and keeps walking.

"Speaking of Punk, the last and certainly least of the trio of imbeciles. Now I would be lying if I didn't expect to be on the opposite side of you in yet another match. However, I did expect that when it were to happen it would be Punk vs. Luca Two, Electric Boogaloo. Speaking of which, Heyman! Whenever you get around to booking that shit, that's your tagline!

I'm off topic, but what else can one do when he's subjected to the ramblings of CM Punk?

The man who incorrectly guessed what I was going to say.

I'm more focused on talking about you, and how every single time we meet in the ring, it'll end the same way.

You laying flat on your face, and myself standing tall.

If you lost count of the times that's happened, it's been twice now. After Monday, it'll be three times. That's the power of counting! What am I doing, trying to explain the complex pattern of counting to the man who's way too illiterate to read the writing on the wall.

The writing that reads in big, bold letters:

Luca Arzegotti is better than the entire Madness roster, including CM Punk.

Who needs to backtrack on what they said when no one they're facing can even touch them?

Certainly not I.

You're welcome for me allowing you to gain the most interest than you've had in your entire career. All it took was your dignity, credibility, and pride.

Because when Luca Arzegotti speaks, people listen.

And people take notes.

Just like what you should be doing.

Trash talk 101, motherfuckers."

That's when the video abruptly ends. The video producer lays his head on his desk, because he knows it.

Luca Arzegotti just made everyone else look like shit.

Again.