The Pest is sitting in his chair, watching the news, some such about Barrack Obama. The Pest was unamused, but paid attention none the less. The girl comes into the room, vacuuming, she is wearing very short pink shorts, and a white tank top with no bra. The Pest turns up the television, to avoid the sound of her infernal cleaning machine. The girl moves in front of the TV, and blocks the video and the vacuum drowns out the sound of the TV. The Pest tries to ignore the sight of her barely covered body. The girl continues to block the TV, thus causing the Pest to leave the room in anger.

The Pest goes into the kitchen to make a food as she does this. He rummages through the refrigerator to search for food, the girl walks into the room. Pest pulls out a can of Pasta sauce, and a Chicken Breast. He sets them on the counter, before going and retrieving two pots, from the cupboard. He fills one with water, and places it on the stove. The other is placed on the stove empty, and then a frying pan is retrieved. The Pest sets the pan on the stove, and heats it up. He applies heat to the pot of water, and goes to retrieve Fettuccine.

As he begins to cook his lunch, the girl begins to rummage through the refrigerator. She pulls out a container of Bún chả. She opens the lid, and allows the kitchen to fill with the odor of gook and rotten cabbage. The Pest does not approve of such a smell. He gets angry and turns around to look at the girl as she places her filth in the microwave.

Pest:What in the hell do you think you are doing with that in my kitchen?

Angela:It's Bún chả. Do you want some?

Pest:Where in the fuck did you get that from?

Angela:I ordered it from the Vietnamese restaurant down the road.

Pest:Did you use my money to pay for that garbage?

Angela:The money you pay me for pretending to be that kid's aunt, and taking care of your house? No. Your girlfriend bought it for me.

Pest:Why would you bring that filth into my house?

Angela:Because I like it. I like Vietnamese food.

Pest:It is unnatural garbage. You disgust me.

Angela:Wow. Way to be a racist.

Pest:The food is horrendous, the people are terrible, their culture is backwards. I lived there for years. Do not play as if you have any idea how the world is when you have never left your middle class white american household.

Angela:I don't need to have left to know that your views are outdated and wrong. The food is good, and their culture isn't that bad. My friend Cindy is Vietnamese...

Pest:The Americanized Offspring of Americanized Offspring of the Vietnamese does not equate to the culture of the country. I spent more time there than your friend Cindy. I promise you that. Their culture is a horrendous affront to a modern world, and their hygiene is subpar. No, take your gook food and leave the kitchen.

The Microwave dings and the girl takes her food out. She leaves the kitchen, and goes to eat in her room. The Pest finishes cooking his meal, and eats it in the kitchen free from the smell of The Girl's rancid food. He eats in peace, until someone knocks on the door. The Pest gets to his feet and goes to answer the door. It is Steve Sayors, the XWF Interviewer. The Pest invites him inside the house.

Pest:What can I do for you, Steven?

Sayors:I'd like to talk to you about your upcoming match this particular week. Can we talk, and not attack me?

Pest:Fine, come into my office, and we shall speak.

The Pest and the Journalist head to the Pest's office. Inside the office, the Pest sits behind his oak desk, and gestures for the Journalist to sit across from him. The Journalist looks around and sees the spot of blood he had spit up after the last meeting between the Pest and the Journalist.

Sayors:You didn't clean up the blood from last time?

Pest:No, I wanted it to be a reminder to you, should you be foolish enough to grace my home with your presence again. Now, begin your line of questioning.

Sayors:Ok, so you have a match for the number one contender's spot to the Xtreme title. Is that correct?

Pest:Yes, Steven, it is. I am facing off for a shot at the Xtreme title.

Sayors:But, you have said in the past that you don't wish to win titles. Has this changed?

Pest:No. I do not care to win the title, or not. However, my associate, Muddy, has expressed a desire for the Black Hand to hold a slew of titles. I decided to abide his desire, as he did have a point. It would make us appear superior to The Brick Squad, something we achieved the second we removed Maverick from our midst.

Sayors:Speaking of Maverick, you took the pin in your match with Morbid Angel, taking Maverick out. Was that planned?

Pest:Yes, I did speak in extent about my lack of desire to be in the match, and how I had opted out of the event, but Kirk MacClay, in his massive list of fuck ups, booked me anyway. I had also spoke of my desires to ensure that Maverick does not win the match, thus, I had taken the fall to keep him from moving on. And allowing Kyril to advance, who would later join our ranks two days later. Do you believe in coincidences, Steven?

Sayors:No. I suppose not. What's next for the Black Hand? Are you looking to add a new member to the group?

Pest:If the time comes. As of this moment, I have no plans to bring another person into my circle. I need people I believe I can trust. Michael has proven his loyalty to me before. Muddy, he trusts me because he knows no other way. And Kyril, Kyril is a man I can trust to get things done when I need them done. He is like me, an old warrior. He works with me, because he understands me. And I understand him. My words of hostility to him that week were a ruse. Should I speak well of him, Maverick might have placed the pieces together and seen the puzzle. I needed to fool the crowd.

Sayors:Interesting. What about Jack, you said you would keep Jack from advancing, and yet he did.

Pest:Very astute. Yes, Jack advanced, and what became of it? He was beaten severely. And Kirk MacClay stopped the match before Kyril could win the Hart Title. He did not lose to Vincent, no, Kirk and his Goon Squad came to tackle the beast. That is correct, Vincent needed the aid of two other fighters and a General Manager in order to hold onto his title. I do hope Lane feels good about this "victory".

Sayors:How do you feel about the people you will be contending with in this match?

Pest:Rellik? You mean with his overly tired and vastly bland attempts at murderous villain? Cute. Perhaps he can hide weak messages in his work to tell us that he is secretly a child beneath his mask. There is no threat from Rellik, save the threat of catching his case of childlike ignorance. Rellik can tell us tales of his vacuum sales all day, but there is no way that he can compete with me.

Sayors:Confident words. Aren't you at all afraid of him?

Pest:Why would I be? The man, if we are to stoop low enough to desecrate the title of man to fit that boy, is of no special breed, lest we forget his education. He is no powerful foe, and his name is utterly generic and frankly an insult. I could rape a dozen dozen children, and it will always be considered more high class than whatever filth that man attempts to put out as a means of intimidation.

Sayors:Harsh. Ok, what about Maxwell Dane?

Pest:Who? Oh, the overgrown manchild in a rabbit costume. Masquerading as some sort of capitalist hero because he stole the name of a move from a guitar used by Woodie Guthrie. Congratulations, you get to continue your charade of inadequacy. You can now cut a promo discussing your outdated views on foreign policy and the Cuban relations, while saying nothing of importance. You fuck. Why is this man considered decent enough to step into the ring with The Pest? I believe that Mathew Oaktree and Kirk MacClay might be less than capable of booking decent cards. Look at who Sebastian Duke is facing this week. Look at the Xtreme title match. Not a soul in that match deserves to face the champion. This is Aerial Knight and Gator all over again.

Sayors:Mildly harsh, but not all that untrue. And Dim, your record with Dim is not impressive.

Pest:You are not mistaken there. I have faced Dim twice and failed to best him twice, but something must be taken into account here. Dim has never pinned me. He has always pinned someone else. At Lethal Lottery, Coco Mojo took the fall while I did not. Then Sebastian Duke took the Anal Cleansing. In the match with Mark Flynn, Mark took the fall. I did not. David Pryce, a tried and true , has never successfully held me down for the count of three. But, let us be perfectly clear. It will never be David Pryce or I taking the fall in these matches. Until David and I have a one on one match, neither will ever be able to claim we held the other down. There will always be someone weaker than either of us to be preyed upon. And when that person nears, the animals in David and I come out, and prey we do. This shall be no different.

David and I work with the same man, and aim to achieve similar goals, yet without his realizing it. David believes he serves God, when he is always serving John Madison, a man who frequently employs me. Intelligence and personal hygiene aside, there is little difference between David and I. Give it time, and David will soon fall to the desires for the flesh of those he should not. David Pryce will take a teenage girl's innocence because John Madison will convince him that it is God's will, and he will then abandon his religion. Believe it.

Sayors:Well, interesting. Hold on, what's that noise?

The Pest stops and listens. The sound of Angela's music comes blasting through the walls. The Pest is angry, and stands up from his desk, throwing the chair to the ground as he does. He storms to the door, and exits the room. Leaving Sayors in utter confusion. Suddenly the sound of belts upon flesh is heard and screams pierce the air. The belt noises stop for a second allowing only the music to drift in. Thud. Screams follow. The Journalist is able to discern a few words from the mass of teen angst filled screeches.

Angela:I FUCKING HATE YOU!

The sound of flesh forcibly meeting flesh is heard. The Journalist deduces she must have been slapped.

Pest:YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT IN MY HOUSE!! AND YOU WILL KEEP ALL NOISE TO AN APPROPRIATE LEVEL IN MY HOUSE! I AM DOING BUSINESS!

Angela:RAPING LITTLE GIRLS IS NOT BUSINESS!! IT JUST MAKES YOU A SAD PATHETIC CREEP!

Another smack, and more screams. The Journalist gets uncomfortable. The sounds of her abuse continue for what feels like a century as the Journalist plays on his phone. Eventually the Pest returns and apologizes. The Journalist rushes himself out the door, rather uncomfortably. The Pest is not happy. With the Journalist gone, he pulls his phone and makes a call.

Pest:I need you here. Yes, both of you.