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Shawn Steele · (09-16-2013)

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As our scene begins fading up from complete and total blackness once more, the camera is slowly pulling back to reveal the side of a police cruiser. This shows that we’re still in Oklahoma City and, based on the brightness of the sun, reveals that it’s the morning of Sunday, September Fifteenth. As the camera angle continues to widen, it shows that the cruiser is parked in front of the Oklahoma City Police Department. Why are we here? Well that question is quickly answered as we see Steve Sayors arrive on the scene, luckily just as Shawn Steele is walking out of the front entrance, wearing the same clothing he was wearing when we last saw him, signing autographs for XWF fans at the world famous Micky Mantle’s Steakhouse, ironically just down the street. It’s pretty obvious that Shawn Steele is in no mood to talk, but as has become the usual, Steve Sayors either doesn’t realize this obvious fact or instead, just doesn’t care. Shawn is barely down the steps leading to the station’s front door before he’s got an XWF microphone shoved into his face.

Steve Sayors: Oh you’ve really done it now, Shawn. Do you think Paul Heyman, beloved General Manager of Monday Night Madness, is going to let you step into the ring with a chance at becoming the new XWF Television Champion, after you’ve been arrested for attacking a fan?!

Shawn pays Sayors no attention, not even acknowledging his existence or the microphone that was slammed into his chest and instead continues staring straight ahead, but does answer the question.

Shawn Steele: That was no fan ...

Steve Sayors: Well then... just who was he? Who was that man, Shawn Steele?!

Steve Sayors’ sudden transformation into investigative reporter doesn’t sit well with Shawn Steele, who stops in his tracks, turning to face Sayors.

Shawn Steele: He’s nobody, Sayors. Nobody.

Steve Sayors: Well based on your reaction to his appearance he certainly didn’t appear to be a nobody, Mr. Steele!

At this point, Shawn has had enough. He actually turns to face Sayors, roughly shoving his open palm into his chest, pushing him away from him.

Shawn Steele: Get the fuck away from me Sayors! Do I look like I’m in the fucking mood to deal with your bullshit right now? I just got out of a god damn jail cell and I’ve got a match against two .. TWO pathetic losers tomorrow night. You think I care about what questions you want answered? You think I care about what answers they .... Steele points directly into the camera before continuing. .... what they want?! I don’t care, Sayors. I don’t care about them. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about Heyman. And I certainly don’t .. DO NOT .. care about Allister. If he ever .. EVER!! shows his face around me again .. I’ll end him. For good this time.

Pulling back from Sayors, Shawn smiles at him and attempts to wipe away the black fingerprint ink that now adorns Steve Sayors’ XWF shirt, but of course fails. Shrugging at this failure, Steele continues.

Shawn Steele: But what I do care about Sayors, are two men. For the next forty eight hours, all I care about are LJ Havok and Hunter Payne. All that I care about, is stepping into that ring tomorrow night. All that I care about, is stepping into that ring and proving why Hunter Payne and LJ Havok .. proving why they’re going to live to regret the day that they had an encounter with the most dangerous man in the X-treme Wrestling Federation today. They’re going to live to regret the .. the ..

Stopping suddenly, Shawn tilts his head slightly in thought. After a moment of silence he nods once slightly before continuing into the front parking area of the Oklahoma City Police Department, Steve Sayors in tow, doing his best to keep the microphone within range of Steele’s words.

Shawn Steele: No. No they aren’t going to regret this day. And do you know why, Sayors? I’ll tell you why. Because LJ Havok and Hunter Payne? They’re smart guys. They realize this is a business. This isn’t personal. All three of us are here for the same thing. We’re here to rack up points in the Fall Madness Series. Honestly, why else would I step foot in Oklahoma? But unlike .. unlike seemingly everyone who I’ve stepped into the ring with in the past month, I’ve got nothing against them. Hunter Payne is a pussy whipped bitch, but I don’t care enough about him to have something against him. And Havok? I like Havok. I like The Extreme Revolution. Even though I had to single handily crush their plans back at War Games. But I see what they’re attempting to do. And I can respect it. So you know what? I’m going to do them a favor. Tomorrow night, I’m going to do something nice for Hunter Payne and LJ Havok. I’m going to win. And that’s it. I don’t need to end any more careers. I don’t need to leave more broken bodies in my wake. Tomorrow night, I’m going to climb into that ring and I’m going to do my job. I’m going to win that match, rack up some more points and climb up that Fall Madness Series ladder.

Shawn stops suddenly and turns around, almost knocking Steve Sayors over but again pays him no mind and instead addresses the camera.

Shawn Steele: And I’m going to do something else tomorrow night too. I’m going to send a message. A message to Supernova. To Radio. To whoever else Paul Heyman wants to throw into this match that he’s building for the XWF Television Championship. People can keep running their mouths about how I haven’t won a title. How I haven’t even earned a match against a Champion. Let alone my chance to dethrone The Kind, John Madison, like LJ Havok did. Maybe they’re right. Maybe. But now .. now I’ve earned my shot. My shot at Mr. Supernova and that Television Championship. And Madison? When I want that Crown, I’ll come rip it off his head. But honestly? I don’t care. Let Fatty Gilmour keep trying to get the job done. Maybe Tony Santos will wear the Crown. I don’t care. But I’ll tell you this. I’m going get that belt. I’m the next XWF Television Champion. And I’m going to win the Fall Madness Series. I told everyone the Age of Shawn Steele was coming. Well .. it’s here. Havok .. Payne .. just business.

The camera shot is suddenly filled with the slightly blackened hand of Shawn Steele as he pushes the camera away, the scene slowly fading away.

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