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CM Punk · (06-10-2013)

An on-fire van near the middle of a park, and a man with his arms stretched out, fists open, and fingers spread near a tree in the same park, is what the XWF camera is recording at this very moment. The fire flares a bit, and out comes something that resembles a fireball. It shoots upwards and lands on a nearby tree, - the scene is being shot at a park-. , and the tree is engulfed in flames. The man turns around, revealing himself to be CM Punk, and smiles. Luke Gallows is nowhere to be found, and was assumingly left inside the van.

“I’m nowhere near crazy, if anything I entertain myself and my inner deepest thoughts with the motivation of being…different. Yeah, different. I like to operate on another business, parallel, reasoning, spirit, and mind than all you other beings out there. Be it GM’s, wrestlers, or just fans. Any human in the world, and I guarantee you are no-way similar to me..” Punk trails for a second, but picks up shortly after, smiling but in a depressed, sarcastic manner.

“That was until I met one Luca Arzegotti. He said I was obsessed with him. Why, he’s right. Like a Texas tornado in the PM, I was unrelenting in my speeches and attempts to attack his deepest inner workings and make him cower. But it didn’t work. The man just kept coming at me. As if he were a schoolyard bully and I were a weak child, he twisted my metaphorical arm until I was forced to relent to his will.”

Burn marks are show upon Phill. The bloody hole left from his torn lip ring has healed, but the burn marks go up and down his left arm, leaving him injured. One could wonder how he could possibly fight alone Monday, with no sight of Senator. A triple threat match would not favor Punk at all. “Parks are so soothing. I came here, and I cleared my mind for a bit. I thought to myself…” He stops, gazes away, and carries on.

“I even fooled myself for a while there. Really, I mean, I don’t know if you were buying any of this, but..” Punk, wearing a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and his usual basketball shorts, pulls off his hoodie.

“So uh…Hey, kid, do you ever think you’ll get a shot at the ever-so amazing European title? I mean, EVERYONE wants it nowadays. It’s only busted up, cracked in, pissed on, and burning in the back of a van.” Punk says, stroking his beard, doing his best Dirty Dutch impression.

“Well, maybe if I find my balls, I can manage to whip someone’s ass…but it sure won’t be Punk’s..I don’t know about Luca. Maybe if one of them lays down for me. I tend to operate pretty well when things are made easy on me, I mean, look, I have to have a fucking mouthpiece and training in some other area of the world.” Laughing, the camera zooms in on Punk’s t-shirt, to reveal John Austin’s face. “One other thing, before I ever get a shot at the Euro title, I want to waste my time fucking some whore with the same name as the fourth month. That should help plenty, right Dirty Dutch?”

“I better get in on it! They don’t call me Dirty Dutch for nothing!” Pulling off his shirt and his basketball shorts, Punk looks strikingly similar to rookie Satoshi Daiki.

“Punk. Consider your reign on borrowed time. Once I work up my endurance…” Punk takes a deep breath, “I’m coming for you!” Another deep breath. “Okay, I’m coming for you Punk..” He squints his eyes. “If only I could see you..damnit, not again.”

Punk pulls out a piece of paper from his basketball shorts on the ground, and begins to recite whatever was on the paper. “Mr. Punk. I believe you are more like Mr. Tensai than I am, due to the fact-” Deep breath, “- you’re both American slobs. My size might be intimidating if I didn’t look like my mom changed my diapers, or I didn’t have any endurance what so ever. By the way, here’s a stupid threat that no one can take seriously because I’m a terrible speaker. Don’t worry, most people from Japan are.” Deep breath. “See you-” deep breath “on the twenty fourth!”

“Jokes aside, Luca, you want to talk to me about Paul Heyman? Fine, after our match. But you know I’m just as much of a threat as you are to me and I don’t need to prove it because I don’t need to show you or any of these ingrates I’m right all the damn time. I know I am and that’s good enough for me. There’s one other thing I want to be right about…let’s see.. Alex Shawn. You said you’re getting ‘held back’. The only thing holding you back is your lack of talent and your third grade level mindset, so why don’t you head on down to shove it where they’ll accept mid-card level talent at the main event level scene, cause you sure as hell aren’t getting anywhere fast here. If I dare see my name in any of your spiels, you’ll be proving a point for me. That all you can do is talk. I don’t care about my title. I care about kicking your ass and winning some matches, just like I told Luca. And you’re an easy W. But..then again, I don’t find people with mental handicaps…gotta have some morals. See you around, bud.”

Leaving the scene, Punk begins to walk down a park sidewalk. He is stopped by an amazingly beautiful lady, who not only catches his eyes, but appears to have caught his European title for him as well.

“Is this yours?” She hands it to him, offering with it a smile.

“Yeah, thanks. Keep it.” Punk begins to walk away, but she stops him.

“Hey! My name’s Taylor. I’ll hold onto it..but..you’re CM Punk, right? I watch Madness every once in a while..I saw that screw job Heyman tried. I don’t usually cheer heels, but, you’re pretty cool. Mind if I follow you around? I’m kinda curious what you’re doing near this hazard zone.” She points at the van suggestively.

“Oh. I was looking for my title, I lost it searching the rubble for survivors.” Punk winks at her. “The name’s Phill. Phill Brooks.”

“But you just said..” She looks at the van and back at Phill. “Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“Sure. But you gotta carry that deadweight.” Phill smiles.

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