The scene opens with the sound of the same studio audience applause from the last promo, only played at a louder volume. Luca then steps on camera and the claps turn to boos, because even dead people hate him. Unlike promos prior, he's dressed in a three piece suit. He takes a moment to fix his tie, and then looks back at the camera.

"Hey Gilly, you think that little promo was enough to sway me or make me quake? Come on man, I've had better thrashings from my ex-girlfriends, and you're supposed to be smooth talking motherfucker sent here to make me give a shit? Try a little harder, it still sounds like you're throwing a temper tantrum. Yet you'll just keep on using the same tiny arsenal of jokes and talking points that have been all week, I'm sure you might say something that will garner more than a pity chuckle. Holy fucking shit, where to begin with this shit?"

Luca pulls out a notebook and flips it open. Looking through it as if he's analyzing notes, all he's really doing is stumping the clueless Peter Gilmour, who's sitting at home yelling for him to eat the paper like Gilly always does.

"Ah yes, Mr. Blabbermouth, snot nosed punk. Holy shit, you hurt my feelings with those mean, mean comments Peter! Please stop before I start to cry! Jeez, have you been taking lessons from Mystery, who's carried you for months on his broken down, old as fuck knees? Because that was some damn fine trash talk. You really got me there, didn't ya? Mr. Repetition in its most basic form. That was how he started things off, let's see how bad it gets from here..."

He continues looking through the book and the purpose is clear to everyone who isn't Peter Gilmour or Swift Ion. He had to write down all of Gilmour's shortcomings because no human can expect to remember all them off the top of his head.

"Oh yeah, the 'you're unoriginal' comment. Oh, you've been called fat since you showed up here? Tell me more about how fucking well built you are some more. We tell you this because you refuse to see it for yourself just how much of a problem your obesity is. That shit leads to heart attacks, yo. Oh well, you'll probably continue to describe yourself as a mountain of muscle that makes the ladies c-, cu-, cum AHAHAHAHAHAHA! You can't seriously be that dense can you? They're screaming in disgust and you think they want you? Oh my fucking God, that's the funniest thing I heard since Nightmare tried to trash talk me! Oh please, keep it coming Gilly! Also, another gay crack, repeating jokes is funny, Unless they're directed at yourself. Gilmour logic."

His eyes continue to dart across the notebook, it's unclear whether or not he's trying to decode his own handwriting or whatever Gilmour's trying to communicate. Maybe he's cold and needs a blanket. Or some more food. Nah, can't be the second, he's had too much as it is.

"Oh shit! John, he discovered our conspiracy to make a mockery of the July Pay-Per-View! How could he possibly have learned that when I've been saying it for weeks? Come on Sherlock Gilmour, you can't be dumb enough as to not hear me, right? I've saying that as far back as the match I won the Wild Card in! Jesus titty fucking Christ, is this guy deaf? Further more, I don't give a flying fuck who built this company. If I did, why would I align myself with the ruling fiber that runs the show now like a third world sweatshop? It doesn't matter that you've been here for a long time, because you suck now. You've likely always sucked, but it's all about the present. What have you done lately in terms of the big match on the solo scale, where you can't be carried by Mystery or crush Soldier's delicate frame? Absolutely fucking nothing."

He's still doing the same thing as before, however this is the narrator saying GILMOUR SUCKS! TABLE FOR KING! Luca looks back up at the camera, already formulating his next response as I was giving my view on recent XWF events.

"Furthermore, he wishes that someone would just shut myself and Madison up! How precious, how seriously adorable. The big man who isn't impressed by what I've been saying lately and has it fucking in for me now wants someone else to shut me up. How about you shut me up? Come the fuck at me, bro. Why don't you grow a set of testicles between your legs and try to do anything at all to me. It'll be an admirable effort that I'm sure Soldier would appreciate, you sticking up to me even after I got the win off the higher up of your stable and all. However, Soldier, Mystery, Sid Fucking Feder, Heironeous, Flynn, Nightmare, and every fucking no need needle neck spindle dick rookie in the back knows that there's no way you can beat me. Soldier might fucking kill himself if it even gets close between us. And because I just can't help myself, Peter Gilmour is for the REAL...ly fucking fat."

He doesn't stop to check notes this time, just to let Gilmour realize how much was in that last chunk of what he wanted to say. Jesus, is Gilmour still conscious at this point or did he go into shock already?

"Peter, stop complaining that you don't have the balls to admit you were previously complaining."

Now he stops to look at the notes. Couldn't he have just done that five seconds ago and saved us all the trouble? Wait a minute, this is Luca, he thrives off of trouble...

"Peter Gilmour calling a solo title run meaningless, stating it lacked credibility? The very same man bragging about his NINE Crimson Dong title reigns? How'd you like that Petey? Watching your own tag partner desecrate the title you love so much in an attempt to get at me? It must break your heart to see it look like such a laughingstock that Matt Lennox is holding it now. That Dean Moxley McGovern held it. How saddened are you to learn the only thing you could ever grasp is a fucking pointless saddle on the equally worthless cattle of the XWF midcard? Oh Petey, tell Soldier thank you for me, I wouldn't have thought of doing that. Stick to the dick jokes Gilmour, bragging isn't your strong suit."

Luca begins to laugh as he looks at the next bullet point on his list. He puts his hand up to the camera, trying to calm himself. The laughter continues for about 10 more seconds and then Luca finally regains his composure.

"And now Gilly's stealing my material! If it was unoriginal when I did it, it must be pathetic now that you're doing it! Seriously, you getting under my skin? You don't see me posting rants disguised as promos about the shit you said, do you? No, because I love it. I feed off of how annoyed you are at me really, and don't try to claim that you aren't. I've burrowed so far into into you, I can see all of the fat you're storing! Yeah, more fat jokes because those are the things you really can't stand, huh? Anything else you'd like to drop on us, Professor Gilmour? Is the next thing you say going to be on the test?

Boy, I do hope I can get Peter Gilmour out of my head. Maybe I can just find an ice cream truck and he'll run after it. Because Gilmour's so fucking intense that if he were to get into anyone's head they'd just have to kill themselves. I mean seriously Gilmour, there's nothing in anything you say that can be remembered in the next five minutes, let alone enough to burrow into my skull and remain there, no matter how clever you think you are."

He flips the page, revealing yet another full page of bullet point notes. We're going to be here a while, aren't we?

"Oh my god Gilly, just give up. Cut your losses and get the fuck out of dodge! This comment about Barbie and Cactus Jack is the stupidest thing of this promo so far, and that's saying something! Newsflash ! I don't give a flying fuck about Cactus Jack, so as far as I'm concerned you were completely original with that name, as stupid as it sounded. Now that I learned you copied it, I have to really call your mental faculties into check. But to answer the question you incorrectly answered, yes he did and yes you do. Where's my proof? I don't need proof, I'm Luca ArzefuckingGotti! If I needed proof of anything, I probably wouldn't be an alcoholic at age twenty two! But my personal life aside, because there's still more Gilmour to get through.

Like the mom jokes, again. Fuck it, he stopped caring and so did I.

The gay jokes, and I'm repetitive?

My words are just words? No, your words are just words. Mine are forebodings of the truth. Look at all of the correct statements I've made thus far.

Peter Gilmour's fat, Peter Gilmour's lazy, which is probably why he's fat, Nightmare's a pussy, Heironeous is a cunt, Eli James will kill himself before the match starts, and Mark Flynn is a lost cause at this point.

Where's yours?

That I'll kill the company even more if I'm King? Supported with evidence from me. Wow Gilmour, now that I see things your way, I totally see why you're going to win. I shouldn't even show up, because he's going to break my fucking neck.

After asking for someone else to shut me up. Real convincing, Colonel Contradiction, maybe you'll get Eli James and Heironeous to buy that.

Me?

I'll just steal the win from you and hand the shot over to the Crimson Dong, just to make the thing you fought so hard for yet another disappointment, to continue the trend Soldier started.

Thank him for me."

Luca drops the notebook on the ground and walks out of shot. The camera zooms in on the notebook, revealing one sentence directed at Gilmour.

"Can you even read? - Luca Arzegotti"