(FADEIN: Bloodhunt sitting in a chair in a room where a bunch of people in white lab coats are milling about, he has a rubber band tied around his upper right arm. He's wearing a grey wifebeater and blue shorts, after a few moments a woman walks over and swabs the indent in the joint of his elbow, after a bit of manipulating the skin she sticks in a syringe and draws blood from him.)
BLOODHUNT: You know I fought Felix Red a long time ago, crazy bastard was doing drugs on camera, snorting blow, eating pills, and I said to myself, what kind of bullshit is this, fighting some maniac absolutely out of his mind on that stuff. How you going to hurt a man who can't feel pain because he's loaded up on heroin, LSD, crack, whatever the hell else there is...You drop a guy like that on his head, he'll get up and keep fighting you with a broken neck.
No, you see that's not what I'm going to deal with, I ain't seen anyone else in this company step up to take a crack at you Joe, because they believe that you're some kind of unbeatable god...All you are is a pill popping fool who's held together by his need to win, will, and pharmaceuticals...And well that last part...That's not acceptable...
See men like Sean Stevens shouldn't have to watch a perfect X-Factor have no effect on you since you're loaded up on smack. Dan Ryan shouldn't watch as you pop right back up from a Humility Bomb, not because you're tough, but because you're to doped up to feel pain, Impulse shouldn't shred every tendon in your leg and watch you walk around acting like nothing happened because you're medicated to the gills. Castor Strife shouldn't have you locked up in that Euthanasian Torture Hug and you just sit there laughing because you're more interested in the pretty colors than you are the fact your spine is about to break...
Everyone else thinks you're a marvel of modern wrestling, but the fact is you're just the guy who won the genetic lottery that his body can tolerate a lot of drugs better than other people's can...This doesn't make you talented, it doesn't make you good, it makes you lucky...And well, your luck has run out...
See, I accept your match, but under MY terms, we do this match with Olympic style drug testing. These good people here come to your house, shack, bridge underpass, whatever, and they take blood, urine, whatever they feel like from you, whenever they feel like it, and this can happened anytime between now and the ring of the bell to start that match, and post fight, we get tested also. You refuse or fail any of those tests, you forfeit the NFW World Title...
I just want a fair fight Joe...Your brain is most likely so rotted from your rampant drug use that you don't even understand you're cheating, but you are...And I'm going to make you understand it...
Ball is in your court champ...Lemme know what you say.
(FADEOUT)