Smoke's sitting at the bar, drinking a hefty amount of cola in a tall glass which is topped off with ice. The place is bustling and Smoke is there alone enjoying his beverage before going to the War Room to face tonight's opponent. He takes a long sip and releases it from his lips with a sigh of satisfaction, hastily wiping away his lips and turning to the camera at the side of him.

I've heard my opponent Matt Ward talking about the so-called 'irony' in my ring-name; 'Smoke Man'. That even though I'm straight edge it contains the word 'Smoke', which apparently must be a synonym for weed, cigarettes or whatever, instead of - oh I dunno - fog or mist. Perhaps I should've called myself 'Mist Man' or 'Fog Man' if it's that important to you.

And even though I don't smoke, or drink for that matter, here I am in the bar - drinking some cola. As if any of this really matters. You want to speak through worn out technicalities and jokes that's only arisen once again since the big-bad-boss-man used it during the Lethal Lottery drawings, so be it, doesn't mean anything to me.

Smoke takes a long, long sip of his cola before proceeding.

Y'know speaking of the Lethal Lottery, the way you worded it made it sound like it was my fault I ended up as a captain. Gee, sorry for being randomly selected from 49 other guys. I'll try not to next time. And I guess you're right, all that managing and having actual responsibilities to successfully pick out and lead a group is really stressing me out. Although all that really doesn't matter when it comes to me beating you on Warfare. I've done all I can do for it and now it's just a matter of waiting.

Might as well kick someone's ass while I do.

And with that thought, Smoke tilts his head back as he finishes his cola, leaves his money, and leaves.