"Who the fuck is this spic?"

Nathaniel's face contorts while he tries to figure out the precise emotion he's feeling. In a matter of moments, it comes to life; a combination of everything he felt about this situation. Confusion, anger, disgust, are just a handful of the factors leading to his damn near mental breakdown.

"This spic just saved your ass. I would suggest losing the attitude, douchebag."

"And I would suggest focusing on the fucking police, if you have a second!"

Sirens rang through the air still, lost in the pursuit of the carriage. The sound of gunshots at the wheels that carried the cabin accents the chase, leaving the passengers on edge. A wooden crate sits in the corner of the cabin, which Luca pries open with assistance from his handy dandy penknife. The contents catch everyone's eye. Military grade assault rifles.

"Go on; take your pick!"

They all flock to the box, pulling out their new toys in the same sense a child would react on Christmas morning. Gleeful and giddy oohs and ahs fills the interior; along with the impatient grabbing at the guns. Taking the butt of his rifle, Luca smashes the glass window and aims the barrel out the opening. Nova, NAZI, and Maria follow the lead, the latter two staying as far from each other as possible.

Meanwhile, Madison is busy reloading his glock.

The lead car of the chase inched its way closer and closer to the window that the four were leaning out of; and a voice boomed from over the loudspeakers.

Cop: "This is the LAPD, pull your medieval shit over or we will- UGH!"

A burst of rounds spit from the barrel of Nathaniel's rifle, bursting through the officer's bulletproof vest and causing his head to slam forward into the wheel. Sliding off the left, the man's head steers the wheel and forces the car off the side of the road, hitting the curb and spinning out until the back end collides with the brick wall. The bricks crack, shatter and break, falling on top of the totaled car and furthermore crushing the already dead driver.

Coming up ahead of the carriage was a railroad crossing that leads into a large field. The horses pick up speed, drawing upon the power of their space technology and NAZI infused hatred of inadequacy to give them strength on the approach. The bell begins to ring, and the train comes up on the horizon while the carriage is within 100 feet from the tracks. Quicker and quicker they move; determined to beat the locomotive.

CRASH! The carriage smashes through the crossing arm and into the field, making it over completely, closely followed by the newest leading police car. It makes it halfway onto the track when the train comes, smashing into it and dragging it off to its next stop. While the train continues to moves; Luca pulls out his cell phone and dials one number.

The phone's answered on the first ring.

"Yeah? We need some help! I dunno, a fucking chopper would be nice or something! Look; we're in a field with half of the LAPD on our asses, it shouldn't be too hard to find! I don't fucking know how you're going to get a fucking chopper! Just do something!"

Hanging up the phone, Luca tosses it on the floor of the carriage before whistling at the horses to stop. They oblige, and he hops off the carriage followed by the others. Madison begins to laugh one of those super villain evil laughs upon landing.

"I'm reloaded, fuckers!"

The horses scamper off, dragging the carriage behind them as they run off into the horizon. From around the train, three officers charge at the group. One by one, they're picked off, bullets between the eyes from who else?

John Madison.

"Yeah, I'll fucking piss on your graves!"

Finally, the train passes on; the police cars charge in one big line over the tracks. A symphony of sirens fills the air. The vehicles park in a formation; two cars facing each other and so on and on to line up all eight in that manner. Hopping out of the cars, the cops hop behind their makeshift barricade. Nova and Luca begin to fire at the ones who're aiming from behind the car. A stray bullet hits one of the officers in the arm and comes out the other side, bouncing off his forehead. He screams and falls to the ground and out of view. Maddy continues to blindly fire, and manages to hit one of the officers right in the eye. NAZI shoots out the windows to give them a greater firing area.

One of the bullets manages to hit Maria in the stomach and knocks her on her ass. Nova looks back momentarily and reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out some weird rock type thing and rolls it down the field, under the first car in formation.

"Three, two, one. Duck!"

In one fluid motion, everyone hits the ground. The rock hops up into the air and explodes, blowing up the first car and setting off a chain reaction that does the same to the others.

The flaming mounds of twisted metal and crushed glass dots the smoke filled landscape while blood and body parts litter the surrounding area. Looking up into the sky, still disoriented from the blast, Luca spots a shadow descending upon the field. Landing about 25 feet from where the group was, was a helicopter. Its pilot's face hidden behind a flight helmet. Getting up to his feet, Luca sees Maddy, Nova and Nathaniel doing the same. Maria lays in the grass, bleeding from her bullet wound and moaning. Luca looks over to Nathaniel, who immediately begins shaking his head.

"I am NOT touching that beaner whore!"

Nova steps between the two and peels her off the ground, cradling the woman in his arms. Looking over the battlefield, and seeing no survivors on the other side; the group rushes to the chopper. The side doors open, and the group all hop aboard. The lone survivor on the other side; unnoticed earlier, tries to approach the chopper as well, but gets hits with a bullet in the leg that came from none of the passengers, but the pilot. He removes his helmet to reveal...

Shane fucking .

"Bring him aboard."

Confused by the request; Nathaniel and Luca hop out nonetheless and drag the injured man aboard before first disarming him and pocketing the handgun for themselves. They rest him against the ground the bottom of the chopper's side door, and Nathaniel throws one punch to the man's ribs, breaking them on impact.

"That, was for the fucking spic."

The two then lift him up and slide him across the floor of the chopper before Shane begins to take off, into the night sky. Just a helicopter full of wanted criminals, a crazy fucking pilot, and a kidnapped police officer.

What could possibly go wrong?


"Now, this is about the time where I start to look at my opponent this week, and laugh about how incompetent Paul Heyman is for booking his champion in a match with some shmuck that will only be my warm up for the fucking main event. However, I picked my opponent; LJ Havok. Why? Why would I pick that shmuck over Tony Santos or Griffin MacAlister or whomever the fuck else who might be able to actually hang with me for more than five minutes? Easy; I'm a fucking douchebag. I take opportunities and make the most out of them for myself and myself only.

It doesn't matter how many of his goons will be at fucking ringside to try to stop me. I'll take them all out singlefuckinghandedly because I'm just that much better than the entire Extreme Revolution.

However; in honor of the minuscule amount of time he put into trash talking me this week, I'm going to give him the same amount. Only I'll make a better fucking point in that span. Ready?

And go!

Once more, LJ Havok gets an opportunity handed to him by yours truly. First at the Rumble, now here. Everything you got was handed to you and yet you're the one clamoring for a 'revolution.' What more could you possibly fucking want? You've proven time and time again that you just aren't good enough to actually win any fucking thing. You LOST to Madison, you LOST to Griffin and Sebastian fucking Duke, and you'e going to LOSE to me. The common line connecting all three failures; you getting the opportunity handed to you because you can't earn it yourself. I got you to the King match, The Network to the Tag Title match, and once more myself into your match with me. Why; because I want this to be an easy week for the old Arzegotti boy. Why not pick the person who fails at everything above another worthless rook? So, once I beat you badly, and Gilmour fails to get the job done against Jonny fucking Rebel; please cry some more. Cry about this company and your revolution like anyone believes you anymore. Oh, no one believed in the first place?

Can you blame them?

You've already lost, Havok.

And I'm on crutches, this little run in with the law really aggravated my injury.

You're going to lose to a fucking cripple, douchecunt.

That's all."