The scene opens to pitch black, accompanied by the faint sound of growling. The growls grow louder and louder before being cut off by a loud whimper. The camera slowly moves downward, revealing rows of steel bars that extend into the darkness. The camera stops as a blurry red object slowly comes into view. As it moves closer to the bars, the mask of Titan becomes more defined. He reaches through the bars with both hands, one clutching a large hunting knife covered in what appears to be blood. Titan slowly runs the knife across the cell, transferring the crimson liquid onto the polished bars.

“Asinine.”

Titan pulls back and slowly begins to pace to his right, the knife clanging against each bar.

“Foolish.”

He moves back, slightly faster, the clanging of the knife grows slightly louder.

“Delusional.”

Titan begins to pace the other way, pacing the length of the bars at continually quickening speeds. The knife clangs against the steel so hard that it appears that it will snap. The voice ceases and is replaced only with a heavy panting. Before Titan can break to a full speed run, he stops suddenly in the middle of the cage. Without facing the camera the voice chimes back in:

“Condemned.”

Titan drops the knife to the ground and turns toward the camera, grabbing the bars and pulling his face in-between them.

“Please, enlighten us: Will these obscure pop culture references mend your broken spirit? Will your disgusting words stitch your wounds? Will your childish punchlines still bring a smile to your face while we sever your spine? You take us lightly, Frodo Smackins, a dangerous move indeed. We do not need to remind you that the last time you were within our grasp, you received a beating more savage than two men who had their heads forcefully removed. You were so adamant about helping the Administrator end Shane , yet where were you when he needed you most? A tragic ending, to be sure, the staunchest defender of a dying man is too busy consuming his enemy’s feces to witness his beheading. Does this eat at you, Frodo? Afterall, had you never opened your semen-stained mouth we would not have dragged you off. Perhaps, the Administrator would be alive and well today. But no, Frodo, he is dead--and you have yourself to blame.”

Titan releases the bars and turns away from the camera, lowering his head and leaning against the bars.

“And yet here you are. Laughing. Nonstop laughter. Constant bickering. Undeserved confidence. Maybe we give you too much credit? Someone involved in such faggotry as yours surely has no concept of morality. Your display disgusts us, along with the other queer whose name is not relevant enough for us to even mutter. Your queer display disgusts us, and it distracts you. You spend a great amount of time flaunting your unnatural union, and thus you have become soft and unworthy. Perhaps for your own good, we should tear out the spine of your lover? Without a receptacle for your underwhelming manhood, you may be able to muster enough focus to escape Monday night with your life. Our time here may be short, but we are well aware of past events, and find it laughable that you believe you have a prayer against the likes of Nazi or Mr. Nova. Despite one being an incompetent underachiever and the other being another member of the queer ranks, you would still fall easily. You think we find merit in defeating Scott Charlotte? You are mistaken as usual, that was merely a formality. If memory serves us, however, did you not lose a match to a man who Scott Charlotte defeated moments later? Logic would dictate that we are exponentially more capable than you. Even your precious king, Theo Pryce, bowed to us when we stripped him of that ridiculous title that you strangely hold to such high esteem. Can you say the same? Have you conquered kings? No. You are capable of little more than opening your mouth and crying when it is shut for you. We serve as an obstacle for you. A vendetta. Yet to us, you serve as nothing more than a loose end. Our pun is unintended.”

Titan steps backwards, disappearing into the darkness. After a moment a large flood light illuminates the entire cage. Titan is kneeling next to the body of a large lion, it’s head in his hands. Titan stands, tearing the head away from the body and sending a steady stream of blood to the floor.

“And now you are to be locked in a cage with us, like animals in captivity. And really, are we not? A new experience for us indeed, but one that suits our particular brand of brutality. Be it hubris or possibly a traumatic brain injury, this is the match that you have chosen. One in which you cannot escape, one in which we have all manner of tools to torture you with. Perhaps not the most intelligent move you’ve ever made, Mr. Smackins. Foolish boy, have you no realization that your words have consequences? This time, however, you would welcome a mouthful of feces in comparison to the Hell that I will put you through. It’s time for you to stop focusing on your pathetic self interests; Shane ’s face and your anemic, queer lover to be specific. Your life is on the line, and you cannot joke your way out of this one. Your male accomplice cannot save you. You asked for this match, but have you stopped to wonder if you can handle it? Can you handle being locked away in a cage with a beast that’s out for blood?”

Titan holds up his hand and a stream of blood drips down from it.

“This will be an experience you are unfamiliar with, the only body fluid you’ll have a mouthful of is the blood escaping from that decrepit little body of yours. Your bones are going to twist and break. The lighthearted demeanor will fade--fade into panic and uncertainty, and finally fear. This Monday night, Frodo, you’re going to be locked with a real caged animal, one that is prepared to hunt. Would you like to make more jokes now, Frodo? Or have we made ourselves clear? We are no laughing matter, we are…"

The lights suddenly go black once more for a brief second. When they come back on the cage is completely empty, save for one large word, smeared in blood in the middle of the floor:

“Titan.”

1X - GOAT.