Assrail Fairyboy is coming to try and take my gold, eh?

Well I just can't let that happen, can I?

I've got a division to carry. There's a whole show on my shoulders, and this burden is mine to carry alone.

I can't let you take this gold, Assrail. We all remember what happened last time you lucked into this belt. 297 days of famine and drought. All your reign brought to the television division was low ratings and disinterest. Do you know how hard real athletes have had to work to bring some prestige to this belt after you tainted it? We're still trying to prove this belt to be better than that Hart championship. If schmucks like you hadn't driven this division to the ground, this gold right here would shine bright as day.

You were never anything more than a paper champion. Your reign should have an asterisk next to it in the history books. You fight competition from the bottom of the barrel. This federation was barely standing the tests of time, it's roster was thinner than a valley girl with an eating disorder. The television division you reigned over was nothing like it is today. You couldn't last two minutes as television champion in the modern era. Your little Christmas match showed your ass. Those boys you were in there with were the meat and bones of this TV division...and oh Fairyboy, you got your teeth kicked down your throat! Your performance was so piss poor it's like you didn't bother to show up at all. But that's what you get with Assrail nowadays. You don't show up half the time and when you do, you usually phone it in. You're simply not championship material, little man.

No one thinks you can win. And everyone's right. I'm already on the card to fight Barney for this belt at Snow Job. Our match on savage is just a glorified warm up. If there ever was a week to just phone it in or not show up, it's this one, Assrail. What's the point of putting in all that effort, training your ass off, just to get humiliated in short fashion next Saturday night? Don't put yourself through the misery. No one is expecting any better of you, you needn't place unrealistic expectations on yourself either. High hopes will only bring you pain and suffering. In your search for gold you will only find misery.

You are small and you are weak. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Your frail psyche can't take the damage I'm looking to do to you. Your self image can't bear the humiliation. Your fortitude can't withstand my wrath. I'm going to show the whole wide world what a scared little bitch the fairy boy is. When I was locked up, little boys like you were nothing but lunch meat for the freaks trapped behind bars. I don't think your petit frame could handle the daily ass poundings. I bet that's why you're such a goody two shoes...you know you couldn't make it in the dark underbelly of the world.

You don't break the rules, you don't fight the power, you aren't hardcore. And you avoid the people that do and the people that are. The people like me. You avoid us because you know you can't take us. You know you can't handle what we bring. You know you're not half the man you'd need to be to stand up and take motherfuckers like me down.

Well come next Saturday you’re not going to have a choice. You’re going to be looking down the barrel at the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the whole federation. I’ve got fire in my heart, ice in my soul, and gold around my waist! And you can’t take none of that away from me!

So come on Assrail. Step up to the plate and put on your big boy pants for once cause you and me are going at it in a Nicklesodeon Nightmare match! That’s right, baby! You and me have one way tickets into Nickelodeon Universe at the mall of America. See, we’re definitely going in there….but we might not be making it out. You certainly won’t be. There’s going to be barbed wire on everything! There will be chairs, tables, sledgehammers, and thumbtacks scattered about! All the rides will be on, and it’s going to be incredible. Winner by pinfall, submission, or death. We’re going to kill it in the ratings, space boy!

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The scene opens with shaky camera footage in a dark woods. The wind howls as the trees rustle in the distance. Dead leaves float along the midnight breeze as an owl hoots from above. A large man bursts through the bushes, running full speed ahead with a terrified look on his dirty face. He runs past the camera and the camera follows him down the wood trail. The man hops over a downed tree as a disembodied voice echoes through the forest.

“You can not run from your fate!”

The man doesn’t listen. He sees a cave in the distance and hauls ass towards it. Within a minute the burly man traverses the distance and tucks away into the natural shelter. He collapses onto the cave floor, relishing in the coolness of the rockbed. Sweat drips from his wounded body, wetting the ground beneath him. Blood stains the man’s black t-shirt, the marks of the lashing still fresh on the man’s back. His breath is heavy and his tone remorseful.

“Fuck…”

The camera pans around to the man’s face. We see a familiar black beard and toothless maw. Stress and anxiety have wrinkled their way onto the man’s forehead. His stomach rumbles as his head pounds from the exhaustion. The man’s neck cranks to the left as he hears a mouse scurrying across the floor of the cave. In an instant the man jumps up, scrambling to catch the rodent. He jumps across the cavern floor blindly, but comes up empty. The mouse scoots by him as it flees, it’s tiny claws clattering along the rockbed with every step.

“Fuck…”

The man’s empty stomach protests once more, but he is unable to answer the call. The chill of the Oktober breeze is only partially shielded by the walls of the cave. He curls into a ball, hoping to insulate himself and conserve his body’s heat as he lay broken and beaten, hiding from the creatures of the black forest. The shivers are quick to set in as the man’s skin begins to harden in the cold. His mind begins to freeze, stuck on one thought, perusing the subject constantly…

“Ramesses…”

The man closes his eyes as he hears the howls of the fae folk out in the woods. Their bloodthirsty cries echo through the man’s head as the fear and impotence begin to take hold.

“Only the blood of the deviants can open up the path of the righteous one!”

“Who’s blood? Who’s blood?”

“Their blood! Their blood!”

The forest fae screech playfully as they traverse the lush forest. The man crawls further into the cave as he prays for safety. The injured man pushed forward on his hands and knees until he reached the cave’s backwall. He placed his back against it, looking forward at the entrance of the cave as he tried to find a few moments of rest and relief. The man tries to keep himself awake, doing everything in his power to keep his eyelids open. He is trying desperately to stay on the lookout for the mischievous fiends of the forest, but his mortal body resists his will. As the minutes go by and the faerie folks disappear into the night the exhausted man drifts into an unwilling slumber on the floor of the cave.