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(FADEIN: GUNS standing outside his San Antonio ranch, wearing an "Intruder Alert" T-shirt and a Third Row, Inc. baseball cap, smirking at the camera.)

GUNS: Troy Windham, you're a funny guy - no, truthfully - the twelve step bit, very clever. Nobody can deny that you're an original, Troy - sure, you may be the 8,000th Windham in the wrestling business, but you found a style and you made it your own. You change with the times - you stay one step ahead of the trends - you've gone from drug-addicted anti-establishment slacker to drug-addicted media whore to painkiller-addicted punching bag for Eli Flair, and now you've completed the 180 degree turn, and you're Troy Windham, defender of all things CSWA, and you've latched on to probably hands down the best professional wrestler in the business today, Shane Southern. That's right, I can give credit where credit is due, and Shane Southern is the real deal. That's why we recruited him for the Intruders, because there aren't many who can do what he can do in that ring.

So, you're a pretty smart guy, Troy - hitch your wagon to Shane Southern, let him do most of the work in the ring, and you can cut cute promos and call it a day. But here's the thing, Troy - every time you demonstrate how smart you are, you do something mind-numbingly stupid that takes you two steps back.

Do you REALLY think it's a good idea to talk about my family, Troy? Do you REALLY want to go there? You see, I don't have any particular problem for this fantasy world you've created for yourself, where you're a mainstream media darling, adored by millions, hobnobbing with the stars. I didn't have a problem with it when Tom Adler all but masturbated on the air while talking about his fantasy games of hoops with Michael Jordan ten years ago, and I don't have a problem with you letting us all in on your wet dreams about the Olson Twins. I don't even have a problem with the fantasy you've created about running me out of the CSWA five years ago, even though I showed the footage that proved that to be a stretch of the truth at best, but more accurately just an out-and-out lie. No, I don't have a problem with any of that, Troy, I don't have a problem with your talk, because that's all it is. You talk a good game, Troy, but Eli Flair proved that when push comes to shove and you have to back up that talk - you can't handle it.

But when you talk about my family, Troy - when you move your sex fantasies away from Britney Spears toward Brittany Cartwright, you cross the line in spades. And trust me, Troy, I don't really need added incentive to tear you apart.

Keep running your mouth, Troy, but if you mention my daughter again, I may just rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat. Then you might not be so entertaining. (Smiles.) The pain is coming, Troy - you just don't know when. It may come in Virginia Beach, or it might not. Maybe I'll focus my aggression on your new best buddy - take him out of the equation - and teach him what happens when you turn your back on the offer of a lifetime. Maybe I'll take your comments out on him, to teach him the price of your friendship. (Grins.) Or, like I said, I might just rip your tongue out right there and then. I'll let you think about what's coming, Troy - it's more fun that way.

But, more likely than not, I won't take out all of my anger on you in Virginia Beach, because rumor has it that we're involved in the same match at Battle of the Belts. That might be a more appropriate stage to tear you apart, Troy. The whole world watching - Pay-Per-View audience - massive media presence - the kind of environment you thrive on. (Laughs.) Kind of reminiscent of Anniversary and your match with Eli Flair. (Chuckles.)

Here's the thing, Troy, and there's really no getting around this - you're a clown, and a sad one at that. You smile on the outside, you put on a good show, but deep down you're scared. You HOPE there's a shred of truth in what you're saying - that GUNS is broken down, that he can't go anymore - but you know this tank is far, far from empty, and more than capable of mowing you down. You hoped Dan Ryan and his GXW boys might slow me down for a while - you hoped I might not notice that Merritt thought it would be cute to double-book Craig - but your hopes have faded, Troy. The clock is ticking - the sand is slowly slipping down the hour glass - and your fate draws closer. And when we finally do collide, Troy - I'm going to make what Eli Flair did to you seem like a summer picnic.

You think you're special, Troy - you think you're "Mr. CSWA" - but you're not. You're just another brick I have to tear down to destroy this place - you're just another souvenir for some lucky fan, courtesy of Third Row, Inc.

Sweet dreams, son.

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