The camera focuses on what appears to be a mural, however is so zoomed in that whatever it's supposed to be is nothing but a mess of different shades of the color red. Nothing distinguishable, just what appears to be a puddle of blood caked onto a wall. Someone didn't happen to give Peter Gilmour finger paint again, did they? God damn that adult daycare he goes to, they need to keep a closer eye on him!

A pan out soon reveals that the blotch of color is actually a word, and not only that, but an entire sentence! It's coherent too! Much more that Gilmour could do! It reads:



Okay, maybe not so coherent. It could still be Gilmour's handi(capped)work after all! However, one has to imagine what angle he would be going at to write random phrases down on a wall in the middle of scenic fucking nowhere. It sounds more like someone else...

The sound of footsteps can be heard the opposite end of the camera. Someone walking into shot, where have we seen this before?

"Ahem."

Oh Jesus fucking Christ.

"Eli James the Fourth. The most 'mysterious' one of the bunch, if you could call any of these worthless neanderthals mysterious that is. He fits every check of that line you all read, unless you're Gilmour of course. In which case he fits every check of that line Rose read to you, but I digress. I wish just one of these fucks would make me step out of my comfort zone and challenge me in a battle of wits, but sadly none of them seem to have the mental fortitude to accomplish such a feat. However, you're all too mentally deficient to understand why I say that Eli fits the bill of this line, allow me to elaborate.

You see, the bastard fills my dreams by making me sleep easy at night. No fear of him uttering anything that could challenge anything I said about him. I'm not exactly a fan of that style of being though. If I was, do you think I'd still be in front of this camera?

Do you think I would still be in this company? I could just sit here and rest on my laurels and still outwit almost all of this roster. No, I'm waiting for the day when one of you fuckers can challenge me!

That's why I don't care for titles.

Who cares who you beat if it was an easy task dismantling their psyche? Now, couldn't you say that any of my opponents could've fit the bill of this line? You may be right, but there's something else that condemns Eli to this line, and not because he's just being my appetizer.

Hey messiah, you're doing a great job of manipulating the idiots out there, I'm sure your stint here has really garnered a lot of new faces to seek out your enlightenment, all for a low low price of twenty dollars and what's left of their freewill.

A crusader for God lost in a message as muddled as his own sermons are. It's so hard to make that source material interesting, isn't it? I do have to ask, how far gone are you to start believing your own lies? How much shit are you on, that you actually think there's a God in heaven, and that he's looking at you with high esteem for being such a mindless fucking puppet?

There you go, the word of God gets this honor because as the word of God, he should at least know how to force my hand and make me interested in speaking back to him.

Yet I feel as though this is just obligatory.

Maybe because his addition was just the obligatory rookie getting his fifteen minutes of fame before getting crushed."

The camera begins to pan over to another part of the mural. It's at this point when the average mind could gather that the camera's panning along the bottom of the wall, so Gilmour should be getting around to gathering that an hour from this point. Oh boy, more writing! Don't you just love cryptic fucking messages?


"Heironeous, my oh my you're really something, aren't you? First putting out something so mindnumbingly boring that even after my fourth viewing I couldn't even formulate anything coherent to say! Now don't you take that as a victory, a 'I shut Luca up!' card, because I managed to make something watchable out of your coat hanger abortion of a promo. I guess I am a miracle worker after all.

I'm glad you're unimpressed and bored of me. I honestly am.

Why?

Because it'll make the inevitable loss you're going to suffer to me sting that much more. I'm all about the fine details. The acute little factors that make the metaphorical pill that much harder to swallow."

Once more the camera pans across the mural, and once more there's another series of words that has a slight sense of significance. Oh boy, could this be the payoff already?


"Oh boy, here we go once more with that motherfucker Nightmare. I'm so flattered that you made a majority of your speech aimed towards me, because we all know how fixated you really are. How blind are you?

You claim that you're coming for me, because, get this everyone! He thinks I'm a despicable and disgusting person! Is that the best you got? Hold on, let me show you how to trash talk someone.

Luca? You're a worthless, pisspoor excuse for a human being! The fact that you're considered anything above excrement is a damn fallacy and should be treated as such. The horrible acts you've committed in your life are without a doubt the very things that will lead to your undoing! GAH! I'M NIGHTMARE! I'M SO FUCKING COOL!

See? Isn't it all so much better when i say it? I didn't even say anything new in that, just like you! I swear man, you gotta step it up.

But you won't, because for all your wisdom you don't know how to perform the simple task of making me look like shit, something I do already. How do you fail at that as bad as you do? Tell me, I want to fucking know. Get talking now, I'm sure it's a long story, full of detours about how much of a shadowy individual you are and how many times a day your apprentice sucks your dick.

Because that's a Nightmare promo. Idiotic attempts at shaming, and arrogance that goes above and beyond my brand of arrogance that's such a bad thing!"

Once more the camera pans, hitting the edge of the mural now. This time there's only four words.


"Which brings me to the only man in this match who has a title currently! Peter, how've you been? Complacent being the anchor to the oh so promising, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, team of Sid Feder's dad and Unknown Soldier? Like Holy shit dude, how are you the weakest part of that team? It seems as though you should be the reason they're anywhere, but instead they've been dragging all eight hundred pounds of your fat ass to relevancy!

Shoddy work Peter, and here I stood thinking you could possibly say something interest- okay, I'm lying. I didn't expect you to do well for yourself at all in this match promowise, because you're just too hardcore to say anything worth remembering.

However, since that's so obviously the case why do you think you need to torture everyone with jokes written by a class of 4th graders? Why is it so appealing that you tell us all that your dick has the body build as the rest of you? What is your obsession with my mom? Seriously, should I just mail you the address of her corpse like I did to Soldier? Son of a bitch, I thought you were supposed to be trash talking me!

Here, let me pull a Peter Gilmour real quick.

I FUCKED ROSE!

Wait no, that's Mr. XWF. Either way it's a shitty tactic to try to use, especially now in 2013! Your mom jokes died about a decade ago, get with the times . And I must add, way to keep going on with the gay jokes after I already talked about how moronic they sound and how much it makes you look like you want Madison's cock. However, I must digress. Because It's no longer my turn.

It's yours.

Check.

Mate.

Which brings me to the only person I have not previously spoke of.

Ma-"

The camera feed cuts out and the scene fades to black, leaving behind only the image of the full mural.

Luca's opponents laid out across the chamber, himself standing in the center with his arm raised in victory. A real Nostradamus prediction right there, who didn't see that coming?

Put your hand down, Gilmour.