Back inside the video production department of XWF HQ, not a single thing looks out of place. The pimple faced geeks who are employed in this region are working hard at their computers, the windows open to let in the beautiful day. Everything seems perfect, what could possibly go wrong?

The guy cowering in the corner, for one.

Ah yes, the very same one who had to watch CM Punks abortion of a promo. You see, everyone feared for the mental health of the guy who saw Luca's works this week, but he's fine.

A better worker than he's every been, actually. A happier person too. He used to go home and beat his wife and 5 year old child, but he doesn't do that anymore.

Because Luca inspires greatness and murders mediocrity. Why do you think John Austin lost his bite?

Back to the guy cowering in the corner. He looks like he can't even move out of fear of the mediocrity jumping from his computer screen and into his very soul. All because CM Punk decided to cut one of his awe inspiring promos.

Sensing the fear in the room instantaneously, the man who watched Luca's promos prior rushes from across the room to the cowering man. He helps the frightened man up and helps him back to his desk. In an attempt to get the man to working order, the one who saved him places a DVD on the desk and tells him to watch it.

Following the orders of the star employee, the man places the DVD in the disk drive of his laptop computer and waits for it to auto play. In the meantime, he places his headphones around his ears and plugs them into the specified hole (Because remember, you can't just stick it in any hole. Dean Moxley McGovern learned that the hard way...)



The scene opens to Luca and Katrina sitting in one of the booths in some small town diner. A look out the windows shows a pitch black sky, and looking around at the other booths and tables confirms that they are the only two customers in the establishment. Their food is barely touched as they look all around, spontaneously interested and uninterested in the mundane items one would find in such a high class eatery.

"Hey Punk! I had some questions to ask you about your last promo if you don't mind. These should be pretty easy, but then again you are the CM Punk who has managed to lose to Ann Thraxx at least once.

Just like John Black.

Why weren't you made into a Black Circle slave? You could've done so well shining the boots of a vastly superior competitor such as myself.

Anyway, back to your promo. Do you even know what you're saying half of the time? I mean, you go back and forth with whether or not money means anything to you than Scott Hall does going in and out of rehab. Seriously, do you even think of how moronic you sound?

Obviously not, considering you still put that toxic waste out as if it was a dish out of a five star restaurant. My oh my it is, a five star opportunity to dissect you a little bit more. To plant myself into you, because you need all the help you can get.

Next, Luca and trying hard? Those two things resolve themselves in the same way saying 5 equals 2 does."

Luca pulls out a pen and starts scribbling on a napkin. After a couple of seconds, he holds the marked on napkin up to the camera lens.

It reads "5 =/= 2, Luca =/= trying hard."

"You see, I don't need to try at all when it comes to verbally and physically thrashing this entire roster. It's second nature really, why do you think I decide to do all of this? Because I care and want people to see how hard I work? Do you even know what I am?

I'm the man who's already said that he's likely going lay down to you or the Senator, Punk. Wins and losses mean nothing to me, which is something you can't say about yourself, can you?

The only thing I want to do in that ring once it gets there is to fuck every conceivable plan up. Austin's plan to be King? Not going to happen. Your plan to hold onto the title? I still have my briefcase, don't I?

What better way to reduce the prestige of that thing? Cashing in that briefcase on the man who won the main event.

The guy who just lost, getting right back up and stealing your title.

I do mean steal, because earning anything is for sniveling, do good pussies. the same type that help old people cross streets.

The same type that check CM Punk into rehab for his latest drug fueled whining promo.

Typical of my opponents, so eager to prove themselves, only to hear that the only person worth impressing isn't amused so they resort to crying on camera to get me to change my mind.

Not working.

In the future, I offer you a tad bit of advice.

Try half as hard as you're accusing me of doing, and maybe you'll manage to pull out some piece of workable trash talk against me. A piece I forgot about because everything that could be said about me has been.

Don't bring up the has-been if you weren't interested in what he had to say. He's a nonfactor anyway, but then again you are too if I don't lay down. Fuck it, go after him, you are on the same page.

Never go back on your words. Remember when you said that you respected me when you were going back and forth with the Senator? That I was a worthwhile opponent and that you had no shame in losing to me? Now I'm a pussy who tries too hard? And I'm a hypocrite? Jeez, your mood changes faster than a woman on her period.

Oh wait, that's probably it.

Lastly, learn how to handle your drugs, you pussy.

Now for my partner's serving of the same words that will reduce his will to live faster than learning his mother was glad that she died to get away from the world he inhabited now.

Aww, are you going to cry?

Are you not going to show me how a true wrestler conducts himself?

The million dollar question, do I care how a true wrestler conducts himself?

NOPE!

Here's how I conduct myself.

Step one, see that I'm booked in a match against a group of moronic carbon copies of my last opponents.

Step two, train my ass off to possibly be able to defeat these incredibly talented opponents do drugs and drink everyday of the week, including the day of the match.

Step three, fuck women who likely have STDs-"

"Luca! I already told you I'm clean!"

Luca looks over at Katrina, whose look of mock anger denotes that she either isn't really clean or doesn't really care.

"Who said I was talking about you?"

The two get a good laugh out of that, and Luca soon returns to listing off what he does.

"Step four, toy with my opponents the same way the Romans forced their prisoners to be Gladiators, making them fight each other while the real threat rages on.

Step five, walk into the arena and beat my opponents with ease.

Rinse.

Wash.

Repeat.

I don't need your little 'get better' methods.

I'm the best Madness has.

I'm the thing that will kill this pathetic program.

Heyman didn't sign a new piece of talent.

He signed the motherfucking antichrist.

The SATAN! to CM Punk's delusions of grandeur where he's the God of anything higher than everyone below me on the Madness pecking order.

Because at his best, he's the second best this roster has.

I don't need to be at mine to rule this thing like the tyrannical dictator I will be.

Deal with it."

With that, the scene fades out.