[10:36 am. Wednesday 23rd]

*Gator sits in his hotel room smoking; he’s relaxing on the couch watching Griffin MacAlister’s latest promo. When the promo ends he laughs*

“I fucking got you Griffin.”

T: “What the hell are you talking about? He just fucking killed you in that promo!”

“No he didn’t. I’ve got him mad. Haha I love a guy who’s angry. Look at him; take a close look at that beady eyed son of a bitch. You see him puffing on that cigarette? That is not a man who smokes to relax, that is a man who smokes to distract himself from what is truly bothering him. He’s still on the ropes, trying to act like he doesn’t give a fuck about what I’ve said and done, but you can see he does, it’s written on his face. Okay Todd you ugly son of a bitch, let’s talk Griffin MacAlister”

*The shape of a smile is seen under his mask as Gator turns to the camera*

“Now Griff I’m going to talk to you directly, hopefully you’ll actually understand me. I don’t know maybe it’s my accent or the way I talk, I apologise for that. Growing up in the North-West of England kinda ruins proper English, I miss out words sometimes, and common phrases in Britain are lost on you yanks. But shouldn’t you know this? Having a Scottish background and all? Or are you just some other American who is so ashamed of your country you bring up your heritage to try and prove that you’re not a full blooded American? I’m getting off topic again, my apologies. What I’m trying to say is, sorry for the way I talk funny. Hope you understood that Griff. You see when you mentioned that I contradicted myself... I’m sorry but I don’t see how, maybe it’s a British thing, maybe you’re over thinking stuff or maybe I’m just stupid like you said... Nah, I don’t think I’m stupid, I know I’m not the smartest guy, I’ve taken more than enough hits to the head to scramble my brain. Sometimes I forget things, words, names, faces etcetera. But I’m smart enough to know when some poor son of a bitch is nitpicking at small things, pulling insignificant mistakes out like they’ve found a nugget of gold. If you think that calling me out on my grammar or whatever else means you got a victory, then you are dead wrong man”

“Moving on, I’m not going into this fight thinking I’m going up against a lazy stoner. Not at all, I said you were a decent wrestler. You were a decent wrestler. I’m still better than you though, I’m still going to win this fight, but thank you for actually making this interesting, I thought you forgot about Warfare after whatever that second promo was, talking to some disease ridden bitch about a vial of some shit. The fuck was that? Did you think that was a good time to cut a promo? Talking to some whore you took a liking too, Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell man? You do realise that talking to some chick about some other fucking chick and about a fucking vial does not constitute a promo, and while we’re at it stop narrating yourself like you’re a fucking detective from some crappy noir film. Fuck, if you were going to be this dramatic about a fucking match I would have asked someone who’s more fun! Where the hell is the passion? You’re walking around here like you’re the fucking Punisher or some shit moping around crying about how shitty your life is, how shitty your country is and why oh why can’t I tell the truth to the woman I love? Fuck man, I think you need to try and find a new profession, now I like talking shit as much as the next guy but you’re writing skills are clearly intended for something else. Maybe put them to use in a children’s mystery novel or a jingle for some commercial; you clearly put too much effort into what you say, I just say whatever pops into my head, and I know you’re going to say ‘clearly you do just say whatever pops into your head, that’s why your promos are so bad man’ ... Right again am I? I don’t give a fuck about the words falling out my mouth, but you clearly do. I’m not going to try and read between the lines and dissect what you said word by word, I’m too busy for that bullshit.”

*Gator takes one long last drag of his cigarette and puts it out into the ashtray beside him. Gator rubs his eyes and shakes his head before looking back to the camera*

“You like to talk about what comes out of my mouth, but you’re talking to someone who knows how to back it up, you’ve got a big fucking mouth, but you haven’t got any real fangs behind those quivering lips. I’m done talking about your words. I don’t give a fuck what you say anymore; I want to see you do something, something entertaining. I’m sick of hearing you talk all the time. I’m an entertainer, a crowd pleaser, I give these people something to look at, something to react to. You’ve been sitting on your skinny ass, smoking weed, and talked, and talked, and talked for the past how many years you’ve been in this company, you’re wrong about me being too lazy to find information on you by the way, I just don’t care about you enough to look at what you’ve done. And again, I know what you’re gonna say ‘I’ll do something entertaining in the ring’ Yeah I’m sure you will. Behind this mask is someone with a purpose, someone with something to prove, I wear this mask because it only shows a man who wants to fight. Faces reveal everything you need to know about people, expressions; small details show the life you’ve lived, the lines in your forehead show you have lived a long, hard life, heavy bags under your eyes show that you’re tired, not just from the weed but from life in general, your shallow cheeks show that you’ve had troubles in your personal life and just that hard, weathered neutral expression shows that you’ve taken as many beatings as you’ve given. Masks don’t show that shit, people can’t read a mask; they can’t relate to a mask, people only see a masked man for his actions. That’s why I wear this mask, so people can only see the true persona of the man behind it. I only needed a glimpse of you MacAlister and I saw you for what you really are, a liar, a backstabber and a fucking pathetic excuse for a human being. You disappear for a little bit and everyone forgets you, and when you come back nobody gives a fuck, that’s pretty sad Griff; you’re like an old family dog, everyone has just gotten used to your smell and maybe they go a little easier on you when you shit on the rug, but everyone’s tired of you and putting you down is for the best for all of us.”

*Gator moves to the mini bar in the corner of the room, he opens it and takes a bottle of overpriced beer. He sits back down on the couch and cracks it open and takes a big gulp. *

“I’ve lead what some people call a dangerous lifestyle, you don’t get it easy when you’re as big as me, talk shit like me and wear a mask all the time, there’s always some stupid mother fucker who thinks he can take me down. But no one has yet, sure I’ve lost matches, I’m not gonna lie and say I was undefeated during my time in J-Pro, but no one’s made me beg for mercy, no one’s made me quit or cry, do you think you can do that Griff? Do you honestly think that someone like you can beat me to a bloody mess on the ground? I can’t see that happening. A liar like you has no place in this business and tomorrow, you’re gonna wish you never entered this line of work, you’re gonna wish you were smart enough to take the easy way out and have a litter with that girl of yours. Tomorrow, I am going to put the old dog to rest.”