Tula Keali'i, alone and away from either Boris or the rest of The Left Hand, finds herself face to face with a gnashing Alias.

"Well what do we have here? Another lost little puppy who raised up their paw in embrace of the dark?

Nah, that's not it.

You're just a desperate, frightened, little girl, scared of losing the one thing that gives her life any meaning. What a fucking sad state of affairs.

Let me ask you something, T. When you were growing up, suckling on your mother's teet like you now suckle on the forked cock of the goat-man, is this what you dreamed of? Not to be an astronaut, or a doctor, or a congresswoman, but this? To rule over a show full of halfwits and no-wits? To be the king of the smallest, most insignificant castle in all of the land? Is this what you really dreamed of? Oh how proud must your family be when they tell their friends about how their daughter is the champion of B.O.B.'s show? Hell, how proud must your own friends be?

Oh... wait... you don't really have any do you?

I mean, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Friends are overrated. But for someone like you... I'm not sure how far you're going to go without them. Think about this, XWF Legend, Centurion, helped you out, right? And even with the guidance of a former World Champion who has the most wins in XWF history, all you could must was... the Anarchy title? That's your precious? You've abandoned everybody that helped get you to where you are, for that? And instead of legends - even if they probably have the most losses in XWF history too - you've found solace in the arms of a group of nymphos and masochists. Somewhere in that 'Anarchy-brained' head of yours, you've got to realise how ridiculous that is, right? I've got to think that's why you didn't bring the Slovak nutsack with you. Deep down, I think you truly realise what a mistake you've made.

You're not going to use The Left Hand for your own means, spud. In case you didn't notice, they don'treally care about winning matches. In fact, they don't really win that much. They don't care about what you care about, and as a result, you stick out like a sore thumb.

One I'm happy to bite off.

T... when you raised that left hand... you just made the job of holding onto championships so much fucking harder for yourself. I'm taking everything from The Left Hand. This is just the start for you.

Heavymetalweight? Check.
Federweight? Let's just say 'check' already.
Shooting Star? Snow Job, baby!
Anarchy?

...

I don't expect this to be our last encounter.

Eat The Left Hand."

Alias shoves his left hand into Tula's mouth in a mandible claw and pushes her to the ground.

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