He was used to the confusion.

Centurion spent many mornings in his youth waking up in beds he doesn't remember lying in and in towns he doesn't remember traveling to. It was a part of the road life, especially when he was single. He didn't even need to book a hotel, because he knew there would be a lady somewhere that would be more than willing to host him for the night.

But Centurion is older now, and he is very much not single. Not only that, but the other familiar feeling - the crippling hangover headache that would last for hours - wasn't there. Not only that, but there was a weird sensation in his ears - like the sound of a fan blowing, but no air is hitting him.

Centurion tries to open his eyes, but he is unable to do so. Something is covering his eyes, and keeping his eyelids pressed down. Centurion reaches up and pulls on the fabric that covers his eyes, and notices…

It's a t-shirt.

The darkness turns into light, and Centurion blinks a few times to adjust to the daylight. His eyes dart around the unfamiliar room, and pieces of the evening start to come back to his memory:

Last night, he and Ruby were at the Velvet Rabbit, the hottest nightclub in New York City. There was a large scale protest, which resulted in Centurion punching an old adversary of his. Then there was a meeting with his long time rival Chris Page. Then came the booze...lots and lots of booze. He tries as hard as he can to remember how he got to where he is now, but that memory is gone from his brain, perhaps forever.

Centurion looks over at the armchair in the corner of the room, where Ruby is sitting. She looks up at Centurion and says something, but he can not hear it; instead, he continues to hear the sound of the unknown fan in his ears. Centurion reaches up to rub his ears, and notices a pair of earbuds that have been placed in his ear. He takes them both out and sets them on the bed as he glances back over to Ruby.

"Where are we?" Centurion asks as he tries to get his barrings about him.

"Comfort Inn!" Ruby responds with a voice that is way too happy and awake for someone who was pounding shots just hours ago. "Apparently we were dropped off here last night by...someone. Do you know who it was?"

Centurion thinks for a moment. He doesn't remember leaving the club, much less being checked into a hotel. "No, no clue. I'm not covered in my own blood, so it couldn't have been Page. And I'm not covered in pink glitter and vomit, so it wasn't Atara. So we've narrowed it down to…"

"About a thousand people." Ruby interjects. "Give or take. But hey, we're here in one piece, AND I took the liberty to go down and grab us some of that continental breakfast!" Ruby points over at the dresser in front of the TV, revealing two trays of eggs, bacon, coffee - typical breakfast shit. "They didn't even ask questions when I walked out with the food. They just LET you do it!"

"How are you this alert right now?" Centurion asks in a baffled voice. "In fact, how am I not currently dying? My head should feel like a watermelon at a Gallagher show."

"Look down at the floor." Ruby says with a confident smile. Centurion leans over the side of the bed and notices what Ruby was pointing out - a pile of empty Gatorade bottles scattered all over the floor. Centurion looks back at Ruby, who has a massive grin on her face.

"Came prepared?" Centurion says as if it were a question, but it's more to set up Ruby's explanation.

"I don't even remember doing it!" Ruby says in an excited tone. "Apparently we stopped at that gift shop thing by the front desk and bought them out of all their Gatorade. I don't know which one of us decided to do that. I'm assuming it was me."

"You'd have that kind of foresight, no doubt." Centurion says in resignation. "No way would I have thought about that. In fact, I'm surprised I let you do it. Normally drunk me just wants to keep the party going."

"Yeah, I don't know why...though it probably has to do with your expensive meal last night." Centurion arches his eyebrows as Ruby reaches out in front of her and grabs a receipt.

Centurion stands up from the bed and stretches, letting out a slight moan as he contorts his body in several directions. He walks over to the table, and Ruby hands him the aforementioned receipt. He yawns, but his tiredness turns into pure shock as he reads it.

"I SPENT SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS ON CHICKEN WINGS?!"

"It's really impressive." Ruby says in a matter of fact way. "Either you bought food for the entire bar, or you were able to eat about 300 wings. I hope it's the second - that HAS to be some sort of record."

"Fucking Thad…" Centurion mumbles under his breath.

"What was that?" Ruby asks, unable to hear Centurion's cursing.

"Nothing." Centurion shrugs off. He walks away from the table and up to the trays of breakfast that are in the room. He goes to grab a plate, but stops as he continues to think about the night. "Don't you find it kind of weird?"

"What?" Ruby inquires.

"We were standing inside a nightclub" Centurion begins. "surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to see me dead, and we walk out with nothing more than a few bruises from religious zealots? It doesn't make sense."

"Voodoo was right." Ruby says pretty quickly. "Nothing happens in that place without her knowing. It's a literal fortress, one that she rules over. It's Switzerland...with some Republicans making noise outside."

"All those pro wrestlers. All those egos." Centurion says in a reflective manner. "And she can control them all simply by the building she owns. I need to speak with her."

------The Beat Is Yours Forever------

We reopen inside the ballroom of the Comfort Inn in New York City. There, we see Centurion standing in the middle of the room, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger over his head as if he is battling a headache. As the camera pans close to him, he speaks.

“You know, every time I hear a wrestler speak, I always have some sort of reaction. Most of the time, it’s just mild amusement. Sometimes, it’s pure boredom. Rarely, it’s great delight or a furious rage. This past week, though, I listened to a wrestler whose words were so bafflingly stupid, I could only manage a facial expression. This one.



Congratulations, Jenny. You successfully confused the hell out of me.

Let’s start off with the first mind numbing statement you made – that you think I’m only a legend because people say I’m a legend. That’s...yes, that’s what a legend is. If you’re a legend and no one says it, then you’re nothing. You only become a legend in the business if you have the respect of your peers. You know, those same peers that “snarl” at you?

Ok, so I’m a legend because people say I am, and the examples you used? A laundry list of names that have accomplished everything there is to accomplish in the XWF. Yes, The Brand and Steve Jason, two of the greatest wrestlers of all time, had nice things to say about me. What a way to discredit me and the things I’ve done in this business. I mean, hell, if you would have just named a bunch of names no one has ever heard of, or names of people that were just my friend, then MAYBE you would have had a case. But Blizzard? The dude who hated my guts? The dude who constantly belittled me and tore me down in front of a national audience? I don’t think he was saying I’m a legend just because he “likes me”. I think he was saying I’m a legend because I’m a tough son of a bitch.”

Centurion lets out a sigh and slightly shakes his head.

“You know, I expect this kind of bullshit either from top guys in the business who don’t want to admit I’m on their level, or from new kids who look to chop me down as a stepping stone for their careers. You know who I DON’T expect this kind of trash talk from? Career also-rans who would kill to switch careers with me.

You’re bored by me, Jenny? Fine. I feel nothing about you. You exist. That’s all you’ve done for your entire career – you exist. Once and a while, you go away. Maybe you get thrown a belt for your “hard work” carrying a dead division. In the end, though, when you’re gone, no one notices. The fact is, you can rattle off all these overused phrases about me because there’s a history of people saying them. I’ve had to dig through three years of your material just to find SOMETHING about you. Any mark you’ve made that has lasted more than a month, and I’ve come up empty.

But you insulting my career isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve said. Neither was you not knowing what a “legacy” is. And I’ll even gloss over the fact that you think I lost to Mark Flynn, a wrestler I’ve never even faced before, because I can only assume you meant North Korean War Criminal and you’ve received so much electric shock therapy that they’re starting to blend together for you. I’ll go ahead and ignore ALL of that...but I can’t ignore what may, in fact, be the single most ridiculous thing ever said in a wrestling promo before. And normally, I hate doing what I’m about to do – the old “quote the wrestler’s own words” cliché that lazy people do, but in this case...well, I can’t bring myself to actually say what you said, so the people are going to need to hear it out of your own mouth.

Quote: But you know what they say about opinions, Cent? Everyone's got em.........Opinons are like assholes.....

Problem is, girls don't poop."

The camera pans back to Centurion, who is making the same facial expression as before.

“What...the fuck.

THIS was what you decidedto leave us all with. This completely insane statement was the final line of your promotional video. You wanted to leave us all on the edge of our seats, and THIS was how you were going to do it. Just...absolutely mind blowing.

First of all, not only is this not true, but it’s one of those fourth-grade things that boys say around the school yard. Once someone reaches the age of – oh, I don’t know, TWELVE – this kind of thing isn’t said anymore. Why? Because it’s REALLY FUCKING STUPID! The fact that you thought this line was so witty that you ended your promo with it shows me just how gone in the head you truly are. And this is me talking! Me, the dude who references a Japanese RPG game at the end of all of his speeches!

Secondly, what was the point you were trying to make? Everyone has an opinion, but you don’t? If “opinions are like assholes”, but “girls don’t poop”, does that mean girl don’t have opinions? Is this some sort of weird way of trying to tell the world that you don’t think women should have the right to form their own opinion, because quite frankly, I find that to be rather sexist. It’s 2022 – we don’t accept those kinds of bigoted opinions around here anymore.

That's the thing - there is no point. You don't have one. You have absolutely nothing you can say about me, but you know you have to fill up the airtime somehow, so you just started babbling.

And that whole "we're a lot alike" thing? You know that's bullshit, don't you? We're nothing alike. You can't even say we're both veterans because I've been around WAY longer than you. You exist in your own world. On an island all by yourself. And it's not a good island, either. It's a chemical waste island where people dump garbage. You are the Great Pacific Garbage Patch of the XWF.

Do me a favor, Jenny. Next time you disappear and show back up three months later, bring something more to the table than this. It's one thing to be a shitty wrestler. It's another to waste everyone's time with this absolutely insane shit. If we get another "girls don't poop" promo, I swear to God I'm going to get you blacklisted from this business.

Oh, and fuck you Michael Graves."