Alias kicks out and rolls through, and winds up mounted atop Bobby Bourbon, his fist drawn back in a punch.

"Sneaky. You're quicker than I thought. Good to know. There's only so long you can stand next to Fury before you're painted with the same brush. It'd be such a shame too..."

Alias relaxes his wound arm and squeezes Bobby's bicep.

"You should know though, I'm not the only one who someone can take a shot at whenever they want. Three weeks are long since up for me, friend, and those are some lovely championships you and B2 have come into possession of. Let's not kid ourselves either there are a lot of people who would love to take a shot at B.o.B. or The Left Hand right now..."

A mystical marching larade of ghostly apparitions materialises behind Alias. In the lead is a translucent Betsy Granger. Following her are eeire reflections of James Raven, Shawn Warstein, Demos, R.L. Edgar, Shawn Wylde, Tommy Romeo, Dolly Waters and Corey Smith. Bringing up the rear, haunting visions of Robert Main and Drew Archyle step into light, their grins being the last thing seen before the parade vanishes through a wall.

"The noose is tightening. Tell Chris Page I'll see him soon..."

Alias rises and walks away. Bobby scrambles to his feet.

"You motherf..."

But Alias is gone before he can finish.