They call it the second largest St. Patrick's Day parade in the country.

We open up in Scranton, Pennsylvania. There, we see many people standing around, wearing green and holding drinks as trucks and floats pass in front of them. Many of the folks standing around aren't even paying attention to the parade, but rather, they are busy socializing and drinking their faces off, despite the fact that it is before noon.

One such person is Centurion, who has a green cup in his hand, filled with a mysterious liquid - though, if one were to taste it, it would taste almost identical to Scotch.

Centurion is surrounded by locals, all of whom are listening intently as he speaks, spreading his wisdom about the wrestling business to a bunch of college looking dudes, all of whom have big, goofy smiles on their faces. Ruby is also nearby, leaning against a barricade that separates the crowd from the parade itself, but her eyes are very faded, and the barricade appears to be the only thing holding her up.

"The travel actually isn't the tough part." Centurion says to the group of onlooking fans. "At least, not at this point in my career. When you start flying private, you don't really dread getting on a plane anymore." Centurion smiles as the group laughs. "No, the problem is food. Trying to figure out where to eat. Especially if you have several matches in a row, you don't want to be shoveling garbage food into your face, so Nellie, my manager, has to do some searching to find good places to eat."

One of the guys laughs and pats Centurion on the shoulder. "But McDonald's tastes the same everywhere, doesn't it?"

Centurion glances at the man, his smile quickly faded to an angry scowl. "First of all" Centurion says in a stern tone. "don't touch me."

"Aaaaandy" A drunken Ruby calls out from the side of the group. "Be nice."

"Fine." Centurion responds, still in a cold tone. "Secondly, while I consider myself to be a fan of fast food, you can't keep eating that junk or else your heart will explode. It's barely food. It's just like…rubber grease."

"I could go for some rubber grease right now." One of the other guys responds as he looks off into the distance. "Soak up the alcohol a little."

"Besides." Centurion says, completely ignoring the comment. "I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't enjoy it. I'm to the point in my life now where everything is a bonus. If I truly wanted to retire, I would. But getting out there and competing for folks, it's a good time."

"And the pussy ain't bad either, eh?!" The first drunk dude says as he places his hand on Centurion's back, completely ignoring his first warnings. This time, Centurion looks over at Ruby, who gives a disappointed but understanding nod.

"I'm going to say this as nice as I possibly can." Centurion says sternly to the man. "If you touch me again, they'll be fishing your body out of the Lackawanna River."

This time, the man seems to understand, and slowly walks away from Centurion, mumbling something under his breath. The rest of the group, however, doesn't seem to care as they continue on with their conversations."

"So, like…" Another man starts talking, and pauses as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. "...fuck…like, how do you prepare for two title matches at the same time? Like, facing Brandon and Charlie and shit. That's gotta be tough."

"Eh." Centurion shrugs his shoulders as he takes a sip of his drink. "If you think about it too hard, maybe. I think it's easy to get overwhelmed if you're a younger kid in the industry and you're looking to make a name for yourself. But, like…I don't really give a fuck anymore?" The group laughs as Centurion smiles. "Not to say that I don't care or anything like that. I clearly want to win and hold titles and all that, but I've also already done that. It's not like I'm standing here saying "I NEED to win these matches!" I mean, hell, if I thought that, I wouldn't be here."

"CANADA!!!" Ruby yells into the street. Everyone turns to face her, and they see a car driving in the parade, with a Canadian flag on the back, and a sign on the side that says "The Canadian Society Of Pennsylvania." Everyone backs away a little bit, but this doesn't stop Ruby from yelling out some more. "LET'S GOOOO!"

"Is…she alright?" One of the drunks says as he points over to Ruby.

"She'll be fine." Centurion says casually as he continues on with the conversation. "Anyway, the thing to remember about someone like Charlie Nickles is that he's just a dude. Sure, he may have some shit wrong with him, but he's just a dude in a fleshy body that still has to go out there and take part in a wrestling match."

"What match are you competing in?" Another guy asks. "Have you heard yet?"

"No fucking clue." Centurion says as he takes another sip of his drink. "I won't know until late tonight. Charlie likes to stretch these things out. Thinks he's playing "mind games." My guess is that it's going to be some barbed wire deathmatch with fire and explosives and shit. No way will he want an actual one on one match. He knows I'll squash him."

"Does he have that level of self awareness?" One of the other guys asks.

Centurion lets out a slight laugh as he gives a bit of a nod. "You make an excellent point. But yeah, he's actually pretty good at sizing up the competition. He may be completely out of his skull, but he knows how to hold on to his title. It means everything to him. So he's going to find something that he excels in. I know if the rolls were reversed, I'd challenge him to a spelling bee."

The group, as well as Centurion, all laugh as Centurion takes another sip of his drink. He lowers his cup before gesturing to the crew. "Alright, let's get a quick picture, and we're going to keep walking. Places to go, people to see…booze to drink."

The group of fans all scrunch in close to Centurion as the camera fades to black.

------Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!------

We open back up inside the Scranton Club in Scranton, Pennsylvania. There, we see Centurion seated on a leather chair, surrounded by fancy woodwork. Others are in the room, as well - unnamed men and women in fancy suits and dresses, all with various drinks in their hands. Ruby sits next to Centurion in a green dress, holding a glass of wine. Centurion, meanwhile, has a cigar in his mouth, and a glass of scotch sitting on a table next to him. He takes a puff of his cigar and exhales the smoke. He looks at the cigar for a little bit before lowering it next to him as he faces the camera.

"Charlie, my boy! Looks like we couldn't keep avoiding this conflict, could we? And I mean, "we" - us, Centurion and Charlie Nickles. I'm glad your head is all out back together or whatnot, because I don't want any excuses from you. I know, if my brought up our previous encounter, where I threw you into the Tidal Basin in DC, you're going to shrug it off. After all, that was Demos. That doesn't count. You weren't "you" then. You know what? Fine."

Centurion grabs his glass of scotch and takes a sip before setting the glass back down on the table.

"I'm willing to accept that. You want to say we've never truly faced each other? Fine by me. After all, you weren't the Television Champion back then. That victory was only important if things like wins and losses mean anything to you. You're a different person now. Congratulations.

Here's the problem, Charlie. I'm ALSO a different person. I'm better. Ask around. Even those that have no faith in me - that think I'm some old, lame asshole who should be ages out of this business by now. Even THEY will tell you that I'm on a heater right now. Perhaps one of the best stretches of my career. Am I the best in the world? Pfft…hardly."

Centurion grabs his scotch and takes another sip before calmly setting it back down.

"I think I already fought the best wrestler in the world right now. It's Peter Vaughn. Perhaps not the most talented wrestler in the world, but no one does more with what he has than him, and I would take him over any wrestler right now, given how hot he is. I say that to say this…

Charlie…you're not even remotely the caliber of wrestler Peter Vaughn is."

Centurion puts the cigar back in his mouth and takes another puff. He exhales the smoke and lets out a slight laugh as he lowers the cigar.

"I say this because I know you have delusions of grandeur in your eyes right now. You think that this is the last of your Television Title matches, and when you're done with this, you're going to challenge for the Universal Title. Have a blast, Charlie. I hope you get that title match, but I'm telling you right now, you're going to get your ass handed to you by either of those wrestlers when you finally get in that ring with them.

But that's several weeks away. You have a title match directly in front of you, and you have the champions advantage. You get to choose whatever match you want. So, what will it be, Charlie? Deathmatch? Hell in a cell? Pistols at dawn? Here's a better question for you, Charlie…do you really think there's a match out there that I haven't already competed in? Even better, do you think there is a match out there that I haven't already PERFECTED?

Because that's the problem you're running into, Charlie. Your strengths are also my strengths, and I'm a hell of a lot better at them then you are. Are there match types out there that I would struggle in? Sure, but I doubt you're going to want to do a rafters match or something that involves getting your fat ass off the ground. Besides, you're facing Centurion! You want to prove you're a total badass! You don't want to just beat me, you want to knock me out, so you can gloat to everyone around you that you did that. Heh, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you learned a thing or two in the past couple of years. Prove it to me."

Centurion lifts his cigar and takes another hit.

"I know your love playing mind games. It's your favorite. It's how you've not only beaten several strong competitors, but you also ran them out of the federation. Hell, your ability to dig deep into Betsy Granger's mind pretty much fucked her up for life. It was so bad, she broke up with Raven and got a new body. That's some high level stuff there. You're pretty good at cracking eggs, Charlie.

But have you ever cracked a rock?

Has any of those mind games worked on anyone that isn't incredibly weak willed and vulnerable? Because if I had to take a guess, I would assume that answer is no.

There's a lot of people out there who hate you, Charlie. There's quite a few that respect the hell out of you, too. Me? I honestly don't care about you. I may be the one person in this industry who couldn't care one way or another whether you live or die. You're a weird, annoying little cretin, but for the most part, there's nothing special about you that makes me feel anything in the slightest, and I think that's the biggest disadvantage you have in this match.

You pride yourself on being hated. It's how you're able to operate in the void. People can't focus on you when they face you. The only thing they can think about is inflicting physical harm on you. They don't think about beating you. They think about hurting you.

Not me, Charlie. I'm just going to beat you."

Centurion sits back in his chair and takes another puff of his cigar before exhaling the smoke into the air.

"There's quite a few things you can learn from me, Charlie. Luckily, I plan on showing you all the tricks of the trade when we get into the ring. So think long and hard about what match type you want - not to try and get an advantage on me, because you won't. You're going to lose, no matter what you select, but you can give yourself an out if you make it something boring and mundane. Make it a straight up wrestling match, and you can run around and tell everyone that you "would have beaten me" if the match was something different. Just an idea, Charlie. I don't want you losing all hope and giving up on your dreams after you meet your…

FINAL FANTASY!!!