(The scene opens with Breeden lying in bed asleep. The alarm clock quickly goes off, wailing out into the morning air before he reaches over and turns it off. He sits up in bed and leans against the headboard, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Last night was rough – damn rough. He could still feel every blow from last night like the street fight happened only a couple of hours ago. He knew that it was going to hurt like hell, but this felt like he'd fought a damned army. He walks through his hotel room to the bathroom and splashes some cold water on his face. His arm starts stinging like a bastard, and he looks to see that it was gashed up pretty good last night. A little of granpappy's cough syrup can fix that. He checks his face in the mirror to make sure that it's all there and walks over to his cell that's still lying on the dresser.

He picks the phone up and dials Hect's number. He wanted to make sure that his partner made it out of there in one piece with the Hardcore title)

Breeden: Yo. Sorry to call you so early, but I wanted to see if you were still alive after last night. God damned Lukas got our asses, and we never saw it comin'. Last night was a fuckin' mess, man, but at least we got out of it. People know that we mean business now that you hold that belt and I've got the Television title. What? The match? Hell no, I'm not losing my belt. They'll have to kill my ass first. This strap goes nowhere. Hey, hold up. I've got a beep. Hell, it's Mick. Let me call you back. Alright. Later.

(He pulls the phone away from his ear and hits a button, then puts his back to his ear)

Breeden: I haven't heard from you in a while, damnit.

Mick: Well, I thought that maybe I'd get a call after I saved you from the damned nut house, but I guess I forgot who I was dealing with. How'd the match go last night?

Breeden: Don't toy with me. I know damned well that you watched it.

Mick: Yeah, I watched it. I'll go easy on you. It was a kickass match, but you still lost. There's one guy in particular that Dryden reminds me of, and he eventually fell...

Breeden: I know exactly where you're going with that.

Mick: So when do you plan to follow my lead?

(Why is it that Mick always comes prepared to bust some ass when he calls? Yeah, he is usually right, but damn. A load of talk and an even bigger load of luck. But that's the kind of people you can run into a lot in this business. The true skill of a wrestler is to figure out how to beat guys like that...and he's obviously yet to be that skillful. Dryden got the upper hand on him without question on Shockwave, but how? What exactly went wrong? It's not like he went in there and acted like a dumbass – he was on his game. And it's not only that either...Brett Lukas fucked him up as well. What the hell was he thinking when he left the Hardcore title laying with Lukas? He might as well have handed the dude a loaded gun and told him to have fun)

Breeden: I made some mistakes, okay? I realize what I did when it came to Brett Lukas. I fucked up when I left the Hardcore title laying there for him to use as a weapon...

Mick: Ya think?

Breeden: The point is Hect won the title, and the House of Hate controls two RWA titles now.

(The real point is he could have avoided that beat down from Lukas altogether and would have been fresh for his match against Dryden. Having chairs slammed against your skull can't be a helpful warm-up for a match)

Mick: The point is you need to start realizing that you're not invincible and prepare for the pay-per-view. You've got seven people to deal with, and you can't even handle one.

Breeden: I'll adhere to that advice. I'll talk to you later, Mick.

(He flips the phone shut and shoves it into his pocket and grabs the Television title before heading out the door of his hotel room and heading toward the elevator. The place was a little fancy for his liking, but he just wanted to lay down after that rediculous throw down on Shockwave. First floor. He walks up to the lobbyist and throws his elbows up on the counter. The lobbyist looks up)

Lobbyist: Err...rough night?

Breeden: You could say that. What's the nearest pub in this place?

Lobbyist: There's literally a string of them just a few blocks down from here. You're bound to find one that suits what you're looking for.

Breeden: Now that's what I'm talking about. You people in Reno know how to get it done. I'm still booked here 'till tomorrow, right?

Lobbyist: Correct. Reservations end at 11:00AM.

Breeden: Any way to extend that? I may still be laying on my face by then, pal.

Lobbyist: We'll make it 2:00PM for you.

Breeden: Now that's what I like to hear.

(It's actually a really nice day outside today. It's not too hold, and not too cold. It's definitely a great day to hit up a bar and throw a few pints in you. Nothing like a few good drinks before hitting up the gym and preparing for Capital Punishment. Yeah, that thing could be a blessing in disguise or a nice slice of damnation. He finally decides upon a little place called the Sound Factory. Apparently it's a music club/bar just like at home. As long as it serves hard drinks, who the hell cares what it does. The place is huge with a large dance floor and a disco ball cascading different colors of light all over the floor and stage. There are two platforms off to the side with tables to lounge at, and an upstairs is to the right where the pool tables and dart games are located. “The Illusionist” by Scar Symmetry blasts through the PA, vibrating the whole bar with bass blasts. Now this is what you'd call a kickass place to hang. He sits down and asks for a Purple Hooter to start the day, then turns to the camera while the bartender is off making the drink)

Breeden: So here we are...it's the big countdown to Capital Punishment, and everybody's all in an uproar. And here I am at a bar, lounging around and having a few drinks. I'm just relaxing a bit. This is the biggest match of my life.  I'm going to be standing up against seven other people not only to defend my own RWA Television title, not only to win the right to continue calling myself the Television champ, but also to walk out of Capitol Punishment as the RWA Universal Champion.   I have the chance to defy all of the experts who say that I don't stand a chance in a match where I'm far past my prime, where everyone is betting against me and are praying for my demise…to humble the challengers and put Dryden in his place.   I walk into this important match without any friends or allies, but the seven others walk in with the same exact problem.  There will be no truces, no contracts, no pacts, and definitely no mercy as all eight of us get into that ring and fight for a taste of gold.

Breeden: It took me a hell of a lot longer than this to get even near the TPS World Championship when I had just turned twenty-two and had stepped into a crazy ass world where friendships can shatter in seconds and everyone's out to get you no matter what the cost.   I had to fight some hard foes in some hard bouts, but it was nothing like this.  No, I definitely didn't have to come prepared for seven different fighting styles from seven different attitudes.   But all these people have to remember and realize is I don't fight fair, I don't care what happens to any of them, and I aim to show Shawn Walsh why I am the reason why people are beating the Shockwave doors down weekly.   They aren't there to watch Dryden and Clemmens have a hissy with one another so Clemmens has to bitch slap him, they aren't there to watch Seth Thomas screw someone over from behind while Andrew Foley helps him out, they sure as hell don't come to watch Johnny Lukas fall to pieces without Brett constantly instructing his dumb ass to breathe and take one step after the other, they don't come to watch washed up news like Eric Badger try to mount some sort of comeback only to crash and burn all over the arena floor, they don't come to watch Jarrod Lemon think that he's ready for the big time only to get smeared from one side of the ring to the other, and they sure as hell don't come to watch some dumb broad like Jalie Thomas try to fight seven men and get torn apart.   Hubby and little brither can't save you now, Jalie.  I still owe both you and Seth a nice, little favor.

Breeden: The people come to watch an entertainer.  They come to watch a man who can hold his own and kick as much ass as possible.   They come to watch a completely unstoppable menace.  They come to watch their Television champion – no, the greatest Television champion the RWA has ever had.   And I sure as hell didn't come all the way from little West Virginia to give this spot up to any of the people in the House of Pain match.   They aren't going to get anything from me.  Maybe after I've kicked the piss out of Seth Dryden and taken away the only thing that makes him worth anyone's time I'll give somebody an easy shot at my title, but I'm walking out of the House of Pain as Television champion even if I have to kill every damned one of them.

Breeden: That's right: I said kill every damned one of them.   Do you think that wasn't what Dryden was trying to do to me last week on Shockwave?  Dryden had the nerve to call me a twisted, sicko fuck and try to pull all of that on me?   Well, here's the deal: I'm not holding back whatsoever come Capitol Punishment.  I don't care if someone is lying in a pool of their own blood, I'm going to finish them.   I am going to be the most destructive, sinful, hardcore, and hateful son a bitch you've ever witnessed.  I'm going to be a heartless bastard, a pathetic low-life, and the most violent motherfucker to walk this planet since Vlad Dracula.   I'm gonna make these losers check their life insurance policies before they're allowed to enter the arena.

Breeden: First I'm going to tear through the easiest person who stands in that ring against me.   I'm going to tear apart the weakest person who stands the smallest challenge – and I'm talking about Jalie Thomas.  Jalie Thomas is a girl trying to fight off the big boys.   I don't care what she can do.  I don't care if she can decapitate someone with one kick to the side of the head – she's nothing more than a girl.   She's going to find out the hard way that not only am I unimpressed by her, I still blame her and Foley both for that loss I suffered on the first Adrenaline.  The payback's going to be laid on thick, and I really don't give a damn if she walks out of this match or not.   Cody Carson isn't going to come out here and try anything.  He damned well knows better.  Seth is going to be busy getting his ass handed to him like the dirty, back-stabbing prick he is, and that means there's nobody to rescue poor Jalie from the dumbass decision she made.   I don't know what made you decide that you're championship material, Jalie, but I'll be happy to show you the truth.  The House of Hate is championship material, and you're going to learn that we are the force that drives the RWA when you get locked into the House of Pain.

Breeden: Do you like that idea, Jalie?  Do you like being helpless and in severe pain?   How about begging for mercy?  Now don't have second thoughts and decide to throw in the towel early, Jalie. You don't need to do that.  That living, breathing has-been that you call your husband will be bleeding in the corner along with you at the end of the match.  There's a little tradition that our entity would like us to practice that goes, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto yourself."   Naturally, I try to spread the teachings of Hate to everyone, and I'd like to share this important tradition with Seth Thomas.  Everyone remembers how Seth pulled out a pair of brass knuckles while my back was turned and then busted me in the mouth with them, right?   That sham, that scum-sucking, low-life abomination even held the Universal title before!  You may be able to trick Jalie into believing that you're a real man so she lets you beat her at home – and she knows that she likes it – but you'll never truly beat me, Seth.   You're nothing more than a washed-up has-been that has fallen from any type of grace that you used to walk with.  You're here only because you're a familiar face to the fans.   Guys like myself are here because we take care of business, Seth.  You've been a thorn in my side even after I won the damned Television title from Foley, and I'm going to rip you completely out of the RWA scene and put you out of your own misery.   They say to shoot a horse that has gone lame, and they don't get much lamer than you, punk.

Breeden: After I'm done dismantling the least of my worries, I'm gonna take a huge chunk out of the bastard I should have faced off against for the title that lays over my shoulder.   Y'know, badgers are fun: especially when you shoot the fuckers between the eyes.  Eric Badger, on the other hand, is now nothing more than a name that's whispered in the wind when RWA fans are so bored that they're contemplating watching video tapes of Allister Black.   But Eric, ever so cocky, has decided that he somehow belongs in this House of Pain match so he can try to win Dryden's Universal title or my Television title.   Look, Eric, we can both agree that Dryden's definitely going down, but why do you think that a chump like you has any chance at taking Dryden down?  Dryden will demolish you before you can even reach a turnbuckle let alone perform a move.  And you damned sure aren't in my league.  You'd have a better chance at winning by bringing a pistol with you and shooting everyone in the match.   You're nothing more than a fluke, Badger.  The sooner you tell yourself that and come to terms with it, the sooner you can get out of this match and live to tell about it. Hell, Eric, the House of Hate feels bad for you.  Hect and I will even let you touch our belts before I begin stomping a second ass into your face.

Breeden: And you know what's really funny about Capitol Punishment?  This is the first pay-per-view where Hect and I both walk in as champions.   So that means that the Lukas boys aren't so glamorous anymore, right?  Their big claim to fame before was being the United champions.   They have two belts to carry around and shove in everyones' faces like they were something important, like they were something to talk about, like they are deserving champions.  Get this, you wasted moneyshots, Hect and I are rollin' the same way as you boys.  My man Hect is the newly crowned and damned deserving Hardcore champion while I am slowly become the greatest Television champion the RWA has ever witnessed.   What so special about you two now?  What, that one always speaks in third person like he's been fed rat poison as a child?   Are you sure that your cousin wasn't dropped on his head when he was little, Brett?  I think he has because he really believes that he's going to step into this match and take my Television title from me.   Then I think the little Jerry Kid that could actually believes that he's got a clear shot at the Universal title.  The only think he's going to shoot for is the stretcher.   I'm gonna bust that little ingrate over the head once with my baseball bat for Hect, and then I'm gonna bust him one more time for me.  Then the meds are gonna be bustin' it down to the ER to try and save that sorry prick from brain damage – that's if he isn't already there.

Breeden: And then we have Jarrod Lemon

(Breeden looks at the ground and shakes his head)

Breeden: Jarrod…I don't know what to say.

(He pauses for a moment)

Breeden: I have deep, deep respect for a man like you.  You've done your service, you've risked your life – you've done your time in the line of danger for people like me.  Who couldn't respect that?  You're what America is all about Lemon…but let's understand right now that you're not what the RWA is all about.

(He looks over and pats his Television championship draped over his shoulder)

Breeden: I know you're coming into the House of Pain match in search of this.  Maybe you're in search of Dryden's title too – but that's too damned bad, pal.   I'm taking Dryden down.  I'm putting his shoulders to the ground for three seconds or making him scream like the disrespectful little prick that he is.   That Universal title is mine, Lemon.  It's mine.  And the Television title?   It doesn't move.  It will have no association with you after the House of Pain match is over.  The only thing you can hope for is to make it out in one piece and to learn from your mistakes so you may become the next best thing that the RWA has to offer.   But do you deserve any of this right now?  Hell no.  You haven't suffered or bled half as much as I have to get where I'm standing.   You've yet to prove anything to anyone, Jarrod.  You should be thankful that you're even in this match.  I'm not out to hurt you, Jarrod, but you also need to stay the hell out of my damned way.  If you cross me once, and I mean just once, I'm going to throw you in the pile after the match is over.

(He reaches over and grabs up the rest of his drink and downs it. It taps the empty cup against the Television title and tosses it into the trash)

Breeden: Next on my list of maniacs that want a piece of me for some crazy ass reason would be Shane Clemmens, but I really believe that he plans to take his buddy Seth for a ride.  You're someone to look forward to, Clemmens.  You're a sick, twisted fuck, but you can also have respect for others.  Too bad that partner of yours can't see past himself for anyone else.  I can say that I approve of your current attitude toward Dryden.   Rip him a new ass.  Choke him with a rope.  Beat him for an hour with a blackjack.  Destroy him.  Not only are you venting some obvious frustration, but you're helping the House's cause. I encourage you fully to show him just how priceless talent can be. Although I really have to question that little phrase since Dryden seems to suggest that you're below him.

Breeden: And finally we have the champ himself. We have the guy who squeaked by on Shockwave. It's the man who has a bull-eye painted on his forehead: Seth Dryden. I'd definitely like to play Dryden's game of make-a-bitch and finally dress him up as the fluke, no-life king that he is. Shockwave was determined by a few folks who just have just stayed the hell out of it, but that's fine. I can understand that not everyone can win all the time. That includes our knight in shining armor himself. I don't want to show Dryden that I can stand toe to toe with him. He'd ignore that and keep himself in mind no matter what. I want to show Dryden that he's been pulling the RWA the entire time. I want to show him that we were all drunker than hell before we came out there to make him look good. Some guys accidentally stumble into the main event because some guy fucked up. Those two guys happened to be Seth Thomas and Cody Carson as they practically polished the damned title and handed it to you, Dryden. The next step in this is the next guy fucks up and passes the belt. I'm ready for you to fall, Dryden. I'm waiting for that wrong turn so somebody can drill your ass six feet under and let me take my spot. No, I can't be the president, and I say to hell with astronauts. What I can be at Capitol Punishment is your undertaker, Dryden. I can dress you up, throw your ass in a pine box, and kick that bitch straight into the earth so none of us ever have to hear from you again. Sunday will be glorious, Seth. I can't wait to see you again.

(The bartender walks over and taps him on the shoulder, and he turns around and lays a few ones on the bar. He grabs up the drink and turns back to the camera with a smile. He tips the cup and drinks a good half of the drink before laying it back on the bar and nods)

Breeden: That's a damned good drink. There's no other place I'd rather be right now. All you punks waiting to get the best of me on Capital Punishment: Drink up. It'll be the most memorable night of your lives.

(Camera fades to static)