The sound of a loud, evil laugh is heard as the scene fades in. Seated next to his fireplace inside his Pocono cabin is the Anarchy Champion, Centurion, who is laughing in a tone we have never heard before. He is dressed to the nines - a full, black suit with a glass of red wine on the table next to him. Sitting above the fireplace, with Christmas garland surrounding it, is the XWF Anarchy Championship, on display for all to see.

“Boy, I sure did strike a nerve, didn't I?”

Centurion's laugh dissipates as he sits back in his chair when crosses his legs.

“For months, Anarchy has been struggling to find strong contenders for their top title. They had to trot out the same four wrestlers over and over again just so a title match could take place. Throughout that time, no one said a word. Hell, no one seemed to care.

But I mention the fact that Anarchy is low on stars, and suddenly Jett Sterling decided to press the red button and send the entire wrestling world after me.

Hey, Jett…thanks for proving my fucking point for me.”

Centurion's face, which was cheerful and amused, quickly turns into anger.

“You know, usually a champ has to be the champ for a while before the powers that be decide to do the old “anyone and everyone gets a shot” trope, but nope - Jett Sterling decided to pull that lever on my FIRST DEFENSE! I don't know what it is that Jett hates worse - the fact that someone who takes this business seriously holds the belt, or the fact that it's someone who's also willing to call him out for being a shitty general manager.

I actually feel sorry for Edward. Congratulations, Jett, you've made me do the impossible. Edward held that belt for over a hundred days. I know automatic rematches aren't a thing in the XWF, but hell, if Jett was so hard up for wrestlers, he could have easily justified giving Edward another crack at the title. Was Latina Submission Machina busy that day? Kenzi Grey no longer taking your calls?”

Centurion sits up in his chair and grabs his glass of wine. He takes a sip before setting it down, rather forcefully, back on the table. He lets out a deep exhale before lifting his head back up.

“You're lucky, Jett. In most cases, decisions like these would make you the worst GM in history. Fortunately for you, Vinnie Lane was a petulant man-child who saw Anarchy as nothing more than his own personal playground, so you are spared that distinction. Make no mistake, though - if you keep going down this path, it won't be long until you leave Vinnie in the dust. You were HANDED an opportunity on a silver platter - a bonafide LEGEND holding your championship. You could be making money hand over fist because of that. Instead, you've decided that one little comment that I made was enough for you to flush it all away.

Understand, though, that ultimately it isn't me you're hurting. It's yourself. We could have been a team, but instead, you're going to have to just sit back and watch as I run roughshod over your entire roster.”

Centurion stands up and, in one fell swoop, grabs the title off the mantle, knocking the Christmas decorations onto the ground. An animated Centurion shakes the title as he furiously yells into the camera.

“Take a good, hard look at this title, Jett! And gaze into the eyes of the man that holds it! I know it pisses you off that you don't have control over your champion, but you're going to have to get used to it! Go ahead and form an open tournament for the belt. Invite ALL your friends! Tweet about it! Hell, write a fucking blog post! Let me make this PERFECTLY clear to you…

I! DO! NOT! CARE!

All of Jett’s horses and all of Jett’s men won't be enough to take this title out of my hands!”

Centurion calms down for a second and gently places the title back on the mantle. He brushes himself off and sits back down in the chair, taking another sip of his wine before continuing in a more subdued manner.

“So, who do you have for me, Jett? Sebastian Everett-Pryce? Tara Fenix? Maybe you roped that kid Sean Parker into this. Oh, maybe you convinced Matt Knox and one of his 500 kids to jump in. Or, if you are a really good negotiator, maybe you were able to get someone from my past. Steve Jason? Maverick? James Raven, perhaps? All of those would be a LOT of fun.

I hope you're able to bag some real big names, Jett. Truly, I do. How great would it be for the last Anarchy of the year to be filled with some of the biggest names in professional wrestling? It would be huge for the brand. The ratings would skyrocket, and the money would start flowing. Hell, if you're able to get some of those names, Jett, maybe they'll start thinking about you as a competent leader.

It would also show you, and show the ENTIRE WORLD, just how serious I am about this title and this brand. I want to beat the very best you can scrounge up. I want every single one of them to hate your guts - to regret ever taking your phone call, and getting them embarrassed in front of a national audience. I want you to like them all up, Jett - in a row, from toughest badass all the way down to the biggest scrub you can find, and I want you to memorize that order, because it's the order they're all going to meet their…