The buzz of the crowd can be heard in the background, humming away in mixed murmurs and occasional chants or 'woo's. Smoke sits in the locker room, on the edge of his seat, looking between his legs and onto the floor. He's wearing his attire along with a polo shirt, finishing tying his laces, slapping his boot checking its sturdiness. It's fine.

He stands up sharply and grabs a water bottle that was sitting beside him. He unscrews the top and presses it against his lips, savouring the taste by swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing it. He pours a little onto his short hair, jumping up and down in place quickly to warm up, simultaneously shaking his head rapidly to let the water spray. After one final swallow, he places the bottle back onto the bench, stretches his neck from side to side, and walks out of the locker room.

The halls are busy, packed with people coming and going, carrying things, directing others, setting up things, you name it. Tonight was a special night, and everyone wanted it perfect. Smoke squeezes his way past all of the bodies, down the narrow corridor. He reaches a semi-open area, filled with even more staff. From medical to technical, they're all there. The ceiling is slightly slanted, and the roar of the crowd is even louder than before. Smoke doesn't let it distract him, and continues in his direction, moving out the way of the moving of important items as they approach. The crowd begin screaming in an organised fashion, their voices rising and falling at the command of whoever is trying to rile them up ahead of the big night ahead. It's not long before they're chanting: "USA! USA! USA! USA!" Smoke can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If the crowd tonight is like this, then just imagine what they'll be like during the two Championship Matches.

The more he walks, the more that the crowd of workers gets fewer and fewer. Eventually it's just a handful of officials and technical guys that are conversing with them. One of them sees Smoke arrive and pulls himself away from his conversation. He walks over to him and hands him a mic.

There you go. Not sure why you want to do this. On a day like this they'd probably prefer an American wrestler to talk to them. You know how it goes.

I'm sure. Thanks.

A couple of anxious minutes go by until the crowd dies down.

Alright then, ladies and gentlemen, before we get this very special edition of Warfare underway tonight, I'd like to introduce a very special guest! He is one of the six contenders in tonight's main event... and not even American. Regardless, here he is, ladies and gentlemen and please... go nice on the guy.

Here is: SMOOOKE MAAANN!!



A mixed reaction comes from the crowd as the theme hits. After a couple of seconds, Smoke walks out of the curtain and into the War Room. To thousands of screaming fans. They're mostly screaming boos but that's beside the point. Smoke visibly shrugs it off and begins walking down to the ramp. He slaps a couple of fans' hands on his way down. All the ones that want him to. He slides into the ring and walks over to the centre, turning slowly to admire the pure spirit and devotion to these fans. The music dies, but Smoke is still looking around. The crowd uproar once more, letting raw emotion overcome them. The boos become more heavy, but Smoke notices a sign dedicated to him and points to it, much to the glee of the fan. Putting the mic up to his lips and speaks.

We're a little bit rowdy here tonight, aren't we?

The crowd react once more and Smoke shakes his head with a smile on his face. He loves it when they're like this.

Now I know what you guys are thinking, and I know you don't want me out here cooling your buzz or sobering up your experience for tonight but I want to talk and I came out to do just that.

WHAT!?

He lets out a little laugh. He didn't expect that, but he probably should have.

Today is the day we remember our past, the day of an event that shook America, and the world itself, to its very core. Since then, we've carried on our lives living what the unfortunate few were not able to, and through that, we remember them. Those in the towers, those in the planes, and the families rocked even 12 years later. Now, most of you may not like me, and that's pretty obvious considering tonight's ovation, but even if I'm English, I understand. It's pretty obvious to everyone around the world, that the USA was hit hard that day. They were dealt a blow they did not see coming. But they came back fighting, and they fought hard.

The crowd is dead silent.

Today, our countries are fighting side-by-side, together, to make sure nothing like that happens again. To make sure that we do not have to experience what we did on that day ever again. No, the world is not a safe place, but we're damn sure trying to make it one for everyone to grow up and do what they love. Tonight, I'm doing what I love; wrestling. And all of it, ALL of it, is thanks to those brave men fighting overseas in territories that are unfathomably dangerous. To the American soldiers, and to the British ones. Thank you. For all your hard work. Keep fighting the fight, and don't give up.

Smoke turns his attention to the fans... some of which he can see are crying.

And to all of you. Boo me if you like. Diss my country if you want to. But remember that we're in this together. You and us.

God bless America. And God save our Queen.

Smoke lowers the mic to his side. He has finished talking. The crowd stirs a little, reacting to the speech between themselves. Slowly, but surely the chants start once more:

USA! USA! USA! USA!

Satisfied, Smoke nods his head a little and chants along with them.

USA! USA! USA! USA!

He stops himself and walks over to the ropes near the announce table, handing the mic over. He walks back across the ring and to the other end, waving at the crowd to a sudden outburst of cheering. But the chanting never dies. He quickly exits the ring, his feet touching the crowd as his theme hits once more. He walks up the ramp backwards, throwing his arms up in the air as he chants with the crowd. On the stage, he takes his shirt off and throws it into the crowd, before disappearing behind the curtain. The chants do not stop. And Smoke walks away and back into the mingling crowd of staff.

Wiping a small tear from his eye, he now knows it. He's ready.