This time, there's no middle man. No video production man to freak out over the insanity that Luca brings to everyone who watches. Just a video camera, pointed at a brick wall. The bricks are broken, cracks forming right down the middle of some. It's a wonder how the building- oh wait, a slight hint of movement is picked up on the left side of lens and your terribly short attention span focused over there.

The source of the movement makes his way onto the camera. Luca Arzegotti, of course. Who else would point a camera at a brick wall for no fucking reason? He stands in front of the wall, fixing an invisible tie. His eyes widen at the lens, approximately two coughs escape his mouth.

Zero fucks are given.

"Good morrow, ladies and germs! I come back from the magical land of making a goddamn point, a place none of my opponents have never been to, I assure you.

It's a wonderful place where arguments are actually resolved. Why? How? Because no one's busy waving their metaphorical dicks around like a craigslist sausage party! Seriously, I urge every single one of you to go there, it's really something else.

Anyway, I could easily come out and say everything I said last time, and it would have the same stinging impact. That's cheating however, so I'll just have to think of something new to say.

That is, unless Paul Heyman wants to censor me to save the face of his useless 'talent.' Come on Paul, come at me. I'm waiting right here, in front of this brick building!"

Luca pounds on the wall a couple of times, laughing at the camera. With the same hand, he makes a waving gesture and into the view of the camera comes Katrina. In her hand is a speaker, for whatever reason.

"Ah hello yet again! So nice to see the camera once more. What's on the agenda tonight?"

"Someone I feel got off easy last time. CM Punk."

"Ooooh, sounds easy."

"Easier than Ann Thraxx, something Punk should know well enough. Did I just break my own rule of not going after shit Punk already brought up? If I did, I honestly couldn't give a fuck.

Whatever, hey Punk. I want to talk to you one on one, and because this is the only I can get my message across to you, this'll do. So, how are you? Still riding high off the match of the century you had with Senator?

I mean, you did manage to get laid out by Zayne fucking Vyper, the man who couldn't beat Peter Gilmour. That says a lot about how great of a champion you'll be. I may not even need to hold the title, you might ruin all on your own.

But that isn't any fun.

So, Luca vs. Punk Two: Electric Boogaloo. I have to ask you Punk, are you ready? Are you ready to hear your good name being tarnished on a regular basis? Do you have what it takes to actually stand toe to toe with me again without anyone else to direct your attention to. Without a tag team partner who could easily decimate you with the ease that I am?

Nope.

Fucking delightful! No work required here!

How am I doing for time?"

Katrina looks walks behind the camera to check the battery. After a couple of seconds of stalling, she yells back at him:

"More than enough!"

"Perfect! Just enough time to bring out our special guest!"

Katrina walks back into view. She presses a button on the speaker, and this song begins to play.



"Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for...

I reintroduce you to..."

A rather familiar looking man walks into frame. His body scarred up and covered in fresh blood. The coat he's wearing is patched up with everything from duct tape to bandages. Bags formed in his eyes tell the tall of a man who hasn't slept in days.

A wide eyed stare, a twelve mile long smile.

"Neil fucking Capra."

There's a pause, long enough for all three of Luca's opponents to collectively wonder just who the fuck that is.

"In case you're new here, allow me to reintroduce myself. Make myself at home in this new 'era' of XWF. I'm Neil Capra, the guy who strikes fear into the hearts of every single person he comes across. The guy who beat Agony three times. The only guy who beat Agony before he ran away like the pussy I proved him to be.

I'm a killer.

No, seriously.

I'm a little bit of a paranoid schizophrenic.

Shut the fuck up, Kim.

I don't care if you have something to say.

Kill yourself, again!

Sorry, I lost my train of thought.

I'm just here to give you a lesson, on interesting topics.

Murder, is an interesting topic. You can lose yourself in the tale of one person taking the life of another. Especially if said person is defenseless and begging for mercy as you plunge the blade into their heart. The screams the force blood up their throats and out of their mouths, staining your clothes in a stream of crimson. Murder, is an interesting topic.

An appealing topic.

An arousing topic.

Your boring daily life is not.

Whatever bullshit CM Punk is spewing is not an interesting topic.

Whether or not John Samuels will even show up for the match is not an interesting topic. End of discussion.

Case closed."

Neil then walks off screen as Luca and Kat walk back on.

"The comedy styles of a crazy homeless man, who just so happens to be Neil Capra. Small world, small world."

With that and a laugh from the two, the camera is turned off once more. How this will somehow find its way to the video production department is a mystery.