Walking around backstage, Lestrange comes across an old footlocker. He plops down and begins to ponder his place here in XWF. He looks around and spots a poster on the wall across from him, showcasing a damn fine line up, the night where he and Frodo clashed high above the ring filled withcracked out horndogs. He looks at the scars, still in the healing process and lights up a cigarette. 

Dammit, what the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck am I sitting here reminiscing I havent even been here that long. Where's my fucking bat, I gotta go break some shit.

He then stands up and beelines toward his locker, flipping stuff over along the way. He suddenly locks wyes with a fan and proceeds to give chase.