Is it, is that thing dead? Does it die? Do bullets harm it? I would assume, seeing as it's laying motionless on the ground, its wide eyes staring up at the ceiling without blinking even once, that yeah, it is dead. However, the rational paranoid side of me keeps telling me that the second I turn around, that thing's gonna get back up and its going to kill me and eat me. If I'm lucky, in that order. Yeah, looking at the bright side of things!

Because that's totally the bright side.

Totally.

With shaky hands, I drop the now useless gun on the floor, watching as it bounces up and lands flat on the ground. Shit, I really didn't think that through. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I push myself off the ground and grab onto the wall by the door leading into the corpse's room. It twitches - holy fuck it's alive- wait no, it's not moving again. It's fucking wailing. For fuck's sake, stop it!

It's not moving, not twitching, not even blinking.

Just. Fucking. Wailing.

I cover my ears, but it just gets louder and louder and louder...

The door! I grab the door by the handle and pull it shut, the wailing trapped behind the the wood that rattles, nearly unable to contain the yelps and cries. Jeez, calm down, creepy demon violinist thing. It's not like you have any actual feelings, aside from "kill" and "eat".

Those aren't even feelings!

My heart keeps pounding, the faintest sounds from the beast sneaks its way through the minuscule gap between the threshold and the bottom of the ingress. Wait a second, did I just think the word ingress? What the fuck does that word even mean?!

Fuck it, not important. Must've read it in one of Anna's incomprehensibly pretentious manuscripts or something.

Maybe I should get back to my sudden and inevitable death, and stop thinking of irrelevant bullshit. That might do me some good...

Do I really want to keep going down this hallway?

"Yes, you do."

Fuck off, disembodied voice of unbridled douchebaggery.

The hallway, in spectacularly unimpressive fashion, shakes violently, sending me across the narrow passageway and smashing into the wall on the other end. Wow. I'm so fucking scared.

Am I, am I actually yawning at all of this shit?

I am!

Well, might as well keep on keeping on with this rebellious act. It's not like whomever the fuck the voice is can do anything new at this point.

"Oh, is that so?"

That doesn't sound good...

The door I had slammed shut bursts open, handle lodging into the wall next to the doorway. Lumbering out into the narrow walkway, the person demon thing. Oh no, please no.

"You can keep going, or you can face her again..."

Her? If that's a her, I'm. I'm. Something I'm obviously not?

"What's wrong? At a loss for words?"

Fuck you! Fuck you, you demonic undertone douchebag fucking waste of space!

"Aw, you really should curse so much. It isn't very ladylike!"

Just like that; I'm thrown to the damn ground. The beast thing continues its approach toward my fallen body. No, no, nononononono! I swing wildly, clocking the abomination in the face, knocking it back a few feet. Instead of getting back up to my feet like a smart person, I crawl on my hands, scooting away from it. It falls off to one side, the wail, that fucking primal cry begins again but dies out subtly.

"Good choice."

Yeah yeah, fuck you.

"Just, stop. We both know you aren't as tough as you're acting."

Just like how I fell, I get back up, facing further down the hall that seems to go on forever.

And ever.

And fucking ever.

"Just a few more steps!"

What I wouldn't give to knock that voice's teeth down its throat, just to shut him up.

"Oh, be real!"

Reluctantly, I continue forth down the hallway, into the vast unknown...


Let's be honest here, for one solitary second. No one believes that Liz and Smoke Man even have the slightest chance of picking up a victory, right? Because if you do, there are some really nice people with white vans, and they're here to help people like you!

And no, this isn't unfounded arrogance based on derived preconceptions about false superiority, this is fact. Liz Hathaway and Smoke Man can't fucking stand each other and this fact has been known for quite a while. So, what does Paul Heyman do?

He books them in a match as partners because why not - wait a minute, what the fuck did I just say? Unfounded arrogance or some shit? Fuck...

Anyway, who to target first on this wild, wild ride of misplaced teenage angst? How about the only person on the other side to air a promo so far, even though the clock is ticking. Maybe, Smokey's getting cold feet, and is scared of his own partner!

Hahahahahahaha, being scared of Liz.

Speaking of her, I guess I better get the fucking show on the road here, and just start.

Hey Liz. How are you?

Thanks for acknowledging my engagement, but I'm not quite married yet!

Gah, fuck! Nevermind that outburst!

As I was saying; "Mrs. Split Personality"? Well, I guess I should congratulate you on possessing enough of a vocabulary to find the words to describe my condition, as if that mattered. I'm sure I of all people would understand my own state of self imposed instability, thank you very much.

Bringing up the "personal" relationship between yourself and Jessie as if any of that fucking matters to me? Wow honey, you're reaching a whole new level of desperate pretty fucking fast. What was this, the second line of your promo, and you're already playing the overly attached girlfriend, wondering why you haven't gotten a call or text in - gasp - thirty minutes?!

Cool the waterworks sweetheart.

But yeah, thanks for the ego stroke history lesson about how I won one third of the Trios Championships. It's really sweet that you decided to inject some flattery into this. I'm touched, I really fucking am!

And you think I'm "That" bitch? I have no idea what in the holy name of the Flying Spaghetti Monster that even means, but I assume it's a compliment. Wow! You're really something!

Too bad you're utterly useless.

What? You expect some kind of rant or something about it? No, Liz Hathaway is literally useless. Hitching a ride with Dean Moxley McGovern and claiming the authority is holding her down and trying to punish her, when Paul Heyman doesn't give a flying fuck about appeasing Shane . Seriously, just get that wrapped around your thick skull.

Heyman actually thought this wasn't going to be a mismatch, or maybe he did. I don't fucking know.

However, before Bute and I get the chance to even destroy this ragtag team, you'll fall to your own resentment for each other. As if you needed another reason for guaranteed failure.

You know what? If you do manage to do the impossible, and pin me, I'll go one step further than a kiss.

I'll let you make love to me in the middle of the ring.

No! No I won't! I'm a committed woman!

Relax, Jessie. You aren't really in control...

Both of you, shut the fuck up. I'm the one cutting this fucking promo.

You know what, fuck it. I'll end on this note.

This fucked up note.