-Real Soviet Damage is standing in his personal gym like we saw before, inside the octagon. He is laughing about something when he sees the cameraman and Steve Sayors walk through the door. He stops and walks over to him-

Sayors: "I hope I'm not intruding Mr. Orlov, could we ask y-"

Damage: "Gentlemen! You couldn't of come at a better time. Fire away your questions."

Sayors: "Um... Uh... how do you feel about the attack you did on Bryan James this past Madness?"

Damage: "Well, I accomplished what I was meant to. Send a message, rough him up a bit and let him get a few shots of his own."

Sayors: "When you say let him get a few shots of his own-"

Damage: "After watching a few of his promos, he constantly reminded us that he was a nobody. I felt so sorry for his pitiful career, I made him almost look like he was going to turn the tables on me! Ha! Do you really think I would let someone like him beat up someone like me?"

Sayors: "...Uh..."

Damage: "Rhetorical question. Now its your turn to ask me a non rhetorical question. Fire away, dickwad."

Sayors: "Have you seen the latest promo he did?"

Damage: "Of course I did! I have alarms in my house especially for when Bryan James starts whining. WAA WAA WAA! THEY'RE NOT BOOKING ME LIKE I WANT THEM TOO!"

-Damage makes a fake siren noise as a midget dressed as Bryan James runs in-

Damage: "Bryan you're in a elimination tag match against the kliq god damnit!"

Midget: "WAAAAAAA!"

-Damage delivers a big boot to the midget, Steve Sayors wincing-

Damage: "Ooohh... Nasty."

Sayors: "I think we should be le-"

Damage: "No! You keep your ass right here!"

-He grabs the mic and gets close to the camera-

Damage: "Bryan. You think you're smart, you think you're clever, you think you're a wrestling god. You're nothing. You're no Owen Hart, that's bullshit you have nothing in common! Apart from one thing... after Wednesday night, you're gonna be dead. Lying on the ground, lifeless like a ragdoll."

-He pushes the camera onto the floor and the screen goes black-