The X-Tron flickers between matches to a dark room in the depths of the arena, a hooded figure emerges from the dim lighting. The eyes of Gabe Reno stare into our souls.



There has been a lot of talk about Champions and who is deserving around here. Even more about Chris Chaos' massive collapse as reigning Universal Champion, while his partner; that would be me, suffers the blowback of false accusations from a man falling fast. Don't worry Chris, I will catch you. Once you quit avoiding me and stop ducking my calls. YOU UNFRIENDED ME ON SNAPCHAT, REALLY!? WHY BECAUSE I SENT A LADY GAGA DICK PIC? Listen, we WILL rise to take the tag titles like we should have Lethal Lottery. But, maybe that wasn't meant to be. Neither of us are much for chance like in Lotto, we like a sure thing, like US BEATING PEOPLE UP. You say you're 'Breaking Bad' into more chaos. I think we have all heard that before, like before you SCREWED US BOTH THIS WEEK ON WARFARE! WE have some fucking business to attend to, you either APOLOGIZE FOR YOUR FUCKING SLANDER OR COME DOWN HERE... NOW. AND MEET ME IN THE FUCKING BROILER ROOM... BECAUSE ICONS DONT PUT UP WITH BULLSHIT... EVEN FROM OTHER ICONS! BITCH! No refs, no management, no sanctions, no rules. YOU AND ME. WHAT'S IT GONNA BE CHAMP!? OR DO I HAVE TO WAIT FOR MY CONTENDERSHIP MATCH TO SLAP YOU IN THE FACE AND XOMPLETE YOUR FALL BY WEARING THAT STRAP AROUND MY RADICAL WAIST??

The camera pans into the arena at the open mouths of fans everywhere wondering if Chris Chaos still has any balls left. Gabe grabs a bat from out of view and starts bashing pieces of the broiler room in frustration.