Tony Santos sits in the hotel lobby at the Dallas Marriott City Center in Dallas, Texas. This is the last leg of his trip to nowhere before the Lethal Lottery Pay Per View on Wednesday. Tony looks considerably better than he did during his time in Houston, albeit with some cuts and bruises to show from both his confrontation at Poison Girl during the day, and his hobble down the busy freeway at night. Having hitched a ride with a kind Texan from one city to the next, Tony found himself spending one more night in peace (a/k/a, without Shannon) before heading off to the event, and he was savoring it.

Tony sits in a modest, brown leather chair near the welcome desk. With it being the middle of the day in Dallas, it's right around check in/check out time, so while some folks are leaving, others are lugging their bags and children in as seemingly orderly of a fashion as possible. However, no matter which way they happen to be going, they're all drawn in by Tony's appearance in the lobby. Both due to his size and slightly rugged appearance, as well as the XWF camera that's pointed directly at his face. A few children run behind Tony to wave to the camera, only to have Tony wave them off like flies at a cookout while berating their parents simultaneously. Tony looks to the camera, asks if it's on, and, upon receiving the thumbs up, begins to speak.

Santos: Ladies and gentlemen! We're so, so close to my night. The big night. The night where I become not only European champion, but also the newest 24/7 briefcase holder. So, so, so close.

Heh, that's been the motto of my six months here. So, so close. Always so close, but so far away. Two near misses at the US Title. A TV Title brawl with Nova that came down to a violent battle at the top of a steel cage, only for Nova to sneak out with the win. And that fucking Xtreme Title. Won and then swiped away from me seemingly in an instant.

So, so close, but not good enough.

So, so close.

But not this time. Nope, things are looking up. Despite the consistent level of inebriation, my mind feels clear and free. I'm newly inspired for my match with Luca, the match that I've been yearning for... oh, and with Sweet Cheapshots too, I guess... and I finally, finally get to put Egyptian Snow Pharaoh in the corner that she so desperately needed to be put in as a child. I'll have the opportunity to slap around that freak product of science gone horribly wrong, Dr. Zero, and expose him for the fluke that he truly is.

It's going to be a wonderful night.

Some people gather around Tony, staring in to the camera lens like deer in headlights, unsure whether they're on some sort of program of importance or a broadcast of some religious yahoo spouting off nonsense while in a fucking hotel lobby, since, well, they weren't actually paying attention to what Tony was saying. Hell, he might as well have been speaking Arabic. Maybe then they'd listen... or run in fear. Spouting off a bunch of well constructed noise in order to intimidate those around him. Similar to...

Santos: Egyptian Snow Pharaoh. Like most people in this company, I had the good fortune of watching her recent diatribe, and, thankfully for me, it was once again mainly about me! So few people in this company have had such a glorious honor bestowed upon them as the verbal projectile vomit that is an Egyptian Snow Pharaoh promo, and I've had two in a matter of days! Oh!

Unfortunately, it was tough to watch. It was tough to watch her rebuttal to my words in the same way that it's been tough to watch her rebuttal to other attacks on her. Why? Because, ESP is too delusional to understand the holes in her own arguments. Her seeming inability to understand when she's deploying schoolyard comebacks along the lines of, let's see how much I can poke and prod people, and then, then, after I've said my piece, and they respond, I'll call shenanigans! Uh! How dare you respond! You sound... desperate! Like... a puppet!

Funny, how the only people that make those sorts of arguments are the ones being played. The ones with the weakest attacks and the weakest defenses are the ones who, upon receiving any sort of return fire, immediately throw their hands up and become the victim.

It's a lose-lose situation, isn't it, ESP? Respond and, mwah ha ha, you stuck it to ol' Santos. Don't respond and... mwah ha ha, you stuck it to ol' Santos because he was too afraid to respond!! It's like the middle school bully who isn't prepared for the target to actually fight back. Next thing you know, the bully finds himself, on the ground, defeated. A challenger stepped up, and the bully lacked the cajones to get it done.

ESP, we can go back and forth, back and forth, all day about our paths in Lethal Lottery. I could continue to bait you...

...see what I did there?...

...and you'd continue to respond, but, here's the thing. I'm here, in the finals, going for the briefcase that you seem to believe I don't deserve... and that's A-ok with me. I'm smiling, babe. I'm that "drunk that got lucky," as my Aryan partner says, and shit, if I get "lucky" again, I'll be damn happy to take it. The best part of this whole ride has been how fun it's been to watch others do the work for me.

- You in the first round, shaming Salman Van Dam out of the tournament and seemingly the XWF.

- Shane , the leader of The Black Circle of all groups, you know, the group that despises me and the shit stain group called The Brotherhood, who let me back in to this tournament on a free ride after I fucked with the entire process by taking SVD in the first place.

- That idiot ref and Shane again when they awarded my pin alongside Mystica's.

- Your sweet, troll baiting ass for two more rounds while I coasted along for the journey.

And hey, if it takes another fluke to get the job done, bring it the fuck on. Give me outside interference. Give me a controversial decision by a blind ref. Give me Dr. Zero spontaneously combusting in the middle of the ring.

Give me Egyptian Snow Pharaoh... getting counted out when some sap in the back throws her a line of insults from the entrance ramp, and ESP can't help but take the bait.

Tony smiles as he unbuttons the top two buttons of his black button-down shirt, winking at the camera.

Santos: I may not have the "assets" that you have to pull this move off, but babe, as you can see, I've found my ways to make it through this tournament. I've found my ways to poke and prod at Paul Heyman and Luca Arzegotti to get my European Title shot on the exact same night, and I'll find a way to topple both you and Dr. Zero. It's just what I do. It's in my nature. I'll always find a way to be a more vile bastard than you can ever imagine yourself becoming on your worst day, ESP, so don't let this drunken, snarky veneer fool you like it's fooled Zero... like it's fooled NAZI.

Come Lethal Lottery, I'll lead you to the guillotine and off you in an instant.

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion