WARNING: AS A FAMILY FRIENDLY SHOW, XWF'S WEDNESDAY NIGHT WARFARE, IN ASSOCIATION WITH WITASTICK ENTERTAINMENT, DOES NOT CONDONE THE USE OF ALCOHOL ON ITS PROGRAMMING.

AS A RESULT, THROUGH THE MAGIC OF CGI TECHNOLOGY, WE HAVE SUPER IMPOSED A WITASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE LOGO OVER MARK FLYNN'S BEVERAGE OF CHOICE, WHICH WE WILL NOT DISCLOSE.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT IS RATED TV-Y

A sigh…

Mark Flynn leaning back in his armchair.

Glass of red wi(TASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE! BUY IT AT YOUR LOCAL SUPERMARKET!) in hand. The other clinching to the back of his head.

Miserable.

Flynn shakes his head as his eyes finally meet the camera.

“Don’t you hate it… when an inferior whelp misses your insult? When your slap in the face was so hard and so fast, he thought it was a lightning strike and he must be invincible for having survived it?”

"When some poor delusional sap... pretends to have a chance?"

“Allow me a moment to explain.”

“Cassius Stonne.”

Flynn grins as he takes a sip of wi(TASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE! 110% JUICE! MATHETMATICALLY IMPOSSIBLE FLAVOR!). The fizz bubbles in his mouth as his tongue slips against the roof of his mouth slowly.

“Sweet, sweet nectar.”

“Stonne. Do you know why you’re in a United States championship match with me tomorrow on Warfare?”

“After I triumphed over four undeserving ROOKIES and won the United States and X-Treme Championships?”

“Making me a two-time Double Champion?”

“Why would Mark Flynn want to immediately jump into a Title Match when lazier champions like Peter Gilmour and Neonero, undeserving and craven about losing the belts around their waist, take weeks off to ensure that their reign isn’t remembered as a joke?”

“Because I’ve tried that little stratagem.”

“And all it does is make people come after you harder. Faster.”

Flynn swizzles the (WITASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE! NOW AVAILABLE IN NON-APPLE FLAVORS! LIKE GREEN! AND SUGAR-FREE!) to allow his drink to breathe… The red slides down his throat and his eyes seem to open more fully.

“Stonne, neither you nor your reject brother have ever been champion. You’ve never had a real success here other than taking out the XWF’s trash (both literally Trash… and resident failure AJ Powell).”

“Your 'opening salvo' was pin prick that just woke me up. The edge of your blade is dull and your sword is without a point.”

"It's pretty clear with your lack of technical skills and general lack of mental ability, that you probably have only experienced marginal success in the sport of wrestling."

"I doubt you've ever even held a championship."

“Let me fill you in. Allow me to tell you what happens after becoming a champion of the XWF. For one brief moment, close your eyes and through my words taste what being the top guy is like...”

"..."

“People surprise you, Stonne.”

“Not you, specifically. Just like your brother, given an opportunity, the only stunning thing about you is how little you do to bring anything new to the table.”

“But other people. People that are good at what they do. They can bring out some pretty surprising weapons to the game…”

“People stop trying to match you and start trying to set the pace.”

“People forget safe and start bringing out their riskiest most dangerous ideas to try and pull out a win and cement their legacy.”

“People stop coasting and work their a(PPLE JUICE FILLED STOMACHS OFF! WITASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE! NOW FAT AND CHOLESTEROL FREE!) off trying to curb stomp you into oblivion so the question of who the champion should between the two of you rests in no mind.”

“The same way I worked to shut the mouths of every critic who said I was done after Neonero snuck off with my belt.”

Flynn’s smile vanishes. The formal behavior disappears as he tilts his head back and downs the rest of the drink. It sizzles across the tongue and spills past his cheeks.

His eyes close as the flavor swirls through his taste buds…

And re-open…

“I beat Angelus the ‘fair’ way. The ‘right’ way. The way I’ve been doing ever since he entered this business.”

“The baby bird sang the way he does and pecked as hard as he could. A couple moments, I concede it even looked like he’d slip out the window and make it to freedom.”

“But he couldn’t hide his busted wing from me.”

“And like the high school science teacher I am to the rest of your uneducated cretins, having to show you exactly how it’s done…”

“I twisted it open, held it in the right places…”

“And dissected your beautiful little winged creature.”

Flynn winks as his grin returns.

“And if Angelus and Witastick are angry about me taking advantage. Sorry. It’s what I do. Fish gotta swim… Birds…Heheheh...”

He cackles a moment. Before trying his best to look earnest. His eyebrows raise in sympathy as his hands come forward, trying to calm hypothetical viewers.

“No. That apology might be coming off as insincere.”

“If so. Allow me to more completely apologize. And fully exclaim my fault in Angelus’ loss.”

“Witastick claims Duke and I conspired to whittle down Angelus and steal his shoe-in United States Championship.”

“Ironic that I’m being called the thief after Angelus literally stole my belt.”

“Either way. Allow me to accept blame for what happened, Witastick.”

“If it’s my fault that Angelus couldn’t get away from a loser like Sebastian Duke without being one-hundred percent after the easy two matches he had to get through against a couple of reject rookies?”

“Then, fine. It’s my fault Angelus can’t possibly compete with me in the ring.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Flynn grins. And leans back. Suddenly, his eyes come awake.

“Oh yes! Stonne! I forgot I was addressing you.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so mind-numbingly forgettable, I can’t help but slip into tangents when I’m forced to consider your existence.”

“Where was I?”

…

Flynn brings his hand to his chin, stroking gently. His brow furrows as he tries to remember what he was talking about.

“Where the f(EELING TIRED OF THE LACK OF VITAMIN C IN YOUR DIET? TRY WITASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE!) was I...?”

Flynn snaps and smiles with a look of success on his face.

“YES! That’s it! I remember now!”

“I wanted to tell you the real reason why you ended up in the main event of Warfare.”

“If you don’t recall, the last time someone in your family was in the main event, was the public execution of Cody Stonne.”

“And just like your brother, you’re so largely and tragically disappointing. Such an uninteresting prospect, one of the lowest rookies I can possibly imagine currently employed by the XWF.”

“One would wonder why anyone would listen to your demand for an United States Title shot.”

“After your rambling incoherent promo about how much better you deserved and how ridiculous it was you were looked over in a tournament that allowed ANY XWF SUPERSTAR TO SIGN UP!”

“You f(AT-FREE DELICIOUS APPLE JUICE LOV)ing idiot.”

“The reason you’re in the main event isn’t because anyone in management listened to your ridiculous demands.”

“It was because I did. I saw your promo and your challenge and asked for a match against you. Because in your challenge, I saw...”

“…Opportunity.”

Flynn’s fingers connect as his elbows rest on the arms of his chair.

"Not you. But, your challenge."

“Allow me to connect the pieces I’ve set up.”

“There are a bunch of hungry young rookies that are starting to get riled up at the bottom of the pile.”

“AJ Powell challenging Neonero for his European strap.”

“Sebastian Duke demanding Peter Gilmour stop ducking and put his tag titles on the line.”

Flynn grins as he puts a hand to the side of his mouth as if telling a secret.

“Which, between you and I, telling Gilmour to stop ducking is like telling a fish to stop swimming. What else is he going to do?”

“A lot of eager young people are swinging for the fences, going after things that are out of their reach.”

“So, I let you into the main event.”

“For one single week.”

“Not because I respect you.”

“Because I don’t.”

“You’re only marginally better than the rest of these boy scouts that decide to slip into my company via Witastick’s Make-A-Wish charity signings.”

“And while you may be more technically skilled than rejects like AJ Powell and Dexter Bale, the two that your moronic challenge actually thought were going to walk away United States Champion…”

“Calling us comparable technical wrestlers is like comparing a French chef at a gourmet restaurant to a Burger King fry cook.”

“In that ring, you vomit out barely passable moves, sloppy and tolerable. And people eat them because they need a quick fix.”

“I create art in this ring. Violent victory is my medium of choice. Blood is my paint. The mat is my canvas.”

“And with my latest piece, I plan sending three messages.”

“To the rookies clamoring for opportunity… If you come after my belt. I’m going to hurt you… Badly…”

“To the corrupt coward running this establishment and his trained pet. I’d end this personal vendetta you have against me. Because if you’re upset when I was screwed out of taking the prize I won home. Then, you probably don’t want a repeat performance any time soon.”

“And finally…”

“To Angelus.”

“I’ve let three men get away with the crime you’ve committed.”

“I’ve let three pretenders take what was mine without actually besting me.”

“And in the past, it drove me wild. It sent me over the deep end.”

“My anger ended up costing me my championship.”

Flynn stops.

He rises from his chair.

And bends down in front of the camera.

“I want you to look at my face, Angelus.”

“I’m trying to be calm right now.”

“So you can tell the difference tomorrow.”

“Because when I get to Warfare. I’m going to be angry.”

“And I’m going to want my belt back.”

“And if you don’t enter the ring and take your beating?”

“I’m going to make Mr. Stonne my Angelus practice dummy.”

“And show you just how depraved I can get. Just how merciful I was when I squeezed the oxygen out of your throat when I had you floundering in my hands like a dying fish.”

“So, Stonne.”

Flynn grins disgustingly.

“I hope you’re enjoying your time in the spotlight. Pretending it’s so everyone can see you in the big time.”

“But legitimately. That light?”

“It’s a laser pointer. It’s a little that I’m using to point out every artery I can tear out, every nerve ending I can press in just the wrong way.”

“So I can step-by-step show everyone in the XWF. On Warfare. Everyone that sees my name as a target.”

“Just what happens when you f(ROLIC AROUND THE FIELD WITH WITASTICK BRAND APPLE JUICE!) around…”

“With Mark Flynn.”

The image freezes on Flynn's disgusting sneer.

And the feed fizzes dead.