time: sunday afternoon

day: february seventeenth

place: bailey's bay, bermuda; engel residence.

(Exhaustion. I've been to work since seven a.m with this kid. He's got more energy, more endurance, and more speed than I anticipated. He's going to be one hell of a wrestler, I can feel it. I tell him to take a break and he climbs out of the ring. I rest against the ropes. He goes into the corner of the basement, working on the speed bag. Even though he's converting to wrestling, he won't forget his boxing roots. They're what kept him above the water when he was on his own. And I'm sure after a little while in the PWA, he'll be able to be on his own again.)

(I finally catch my breath. I slide out of the ring and grab my video camera. I roll back in and set the video camera up on the turnbuckle. I take one last deep breath and recap. I hit record, taking about three or four steps back, staring into the camera. Warren can be slightly heard off-camera on the bag.)
VIRUS: Genesis didn't go down as planned, but victory belongs to Exit Music. We didn't keep everything, but we kept what us Engels deem far more important. That's fine. I proved to Sirus that what happened on february eighth was indeed a fluke. I didn't have any interference prior to the match and we came out victorious. Imagine that.

And Randall, how's that head of yours? I can't imagine it's feeling too good right now. Trust me, the pain's mutual, but my sister pretty much decimated you. Maybe she'll win that AOWF TV Title one day and make it actually something worthwhile to talk about.

(A crack of the knuckles.)

VIRUS: Who is the man? It's quite a journey to find out, honestly. I remember watching this tournament back in the day when my brother Joe was here. Besides Genesis, it's one of the better known pay-per-views the PWA has to offer. But, I gotta admit, what was Sommers thinking when he booked Corey and I in it? I'm sure he's got some master plan, but I could care less about Who's The Man.

The talent in this tournament doesn't speak volumes. I could easily take the reigns and ride myself right into the finals and claim myself The Man, but that's not what I'm interested in.

Corey fucking Lazarus.

We've got our match. It wasn't exactly what I hoped for, but I've now got the venue to beat the ever living shit out of you, something I've dying to do since I got my hands on you on february eighth. I was dying in the locker room at Genesis. I wanted to break down your door and bust your face against it. Hell, I even WANTED you to send some goons after me so I could tear them apart.

What makes you actually think you can get to me like that? You call me borderline retarded for not thinking you would do that, I say I thought you were the kind of man that got business done on your own terms and by your own damn self.

Apparently you aren't that kind of man. You'd hide behind the facade of people actually accepting cash in exchange for taking me out. You want something done? Get it done yourself, like a real man.

Take me for example. I called you out on Friday. I admit I wanted mainly to dropkick you into infinity, but I decided to hold off for something better. You against me, in the proper venue, and in a match where you and I have the chance to rip each other apart.

That's what I got done. That's what I had the fortitude to do. You? Go ahead and hide behind your mercenaries, and keep acting like this doesn't matter. But it does and when I'm making you bleed a river, you're going to realize why.

(Something inside me boils. Rage. Revenge. Retribution. I can't seem to control it. It wants to control me.)

VIRUS: Who's the man? Who cares? I don't need a tournament to declare that I'm a franchise wrestler. I've always been that. I was the main reason why the UHWA stayed open as long as it did. I was the main reason why the AJWF had awesome ratings, despite the fact the front office had no clue what it was doing. And now? I'm the reason why this tournament will mean something this year.

I don't care about it, but the fans do. And in the interest of that, I will be putting on a show. A clinic. A beatdown. Whatever you wanna fucking call it, it's happening. The fans will get what they want...and I will get what I want.

And what can you do to stop that, Laz? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Welcome to the inevitable. You're fucked.

(I look off-camera for a moment to realize Warren went upstairs. I shrug it off.)

VIRUS: Speaking of mercenaries, I don't know how interested your clients would be in tag titles when I no longer have them. That's alright, though, you had no idea of what was to come. Nobody did, except our fucking president himself. Good for him. He got one over with the fans, made a great match an even better match, and I lost the PWA tag titles because of it.

I won't blame Enika, she fought one hell of a match. I won't blame myself, I gave it my all. That's why we won the match.

But, it doesn't feel good knowing you've lost something. In my opinion, I got the better of the two sets of titles, however I fear I'm the only one that shares that opinion. Enika can't possibly know because she never wrestled in the AOWF. Those of us that did wrestle there know how great those community titles were.

Yes...even the TV one. When Tommy Riley had it.

(I shake my head. Need to get back on-topic.)

VIRUS: My point being keeping this between you and me. You wanna pay some half-wits to come after me? That's your decision, but what you plan on doing to me will come back to you and yours tenfold. I hold grudges. I love vengeance. And I hate you.

Those are three pretty good reasons why I would think twice about being a bitch and sending people after me. Do it yourself and only you will have repercussions.

Repercussions. What do you plan to do about McNasty anyhow? I don't want your bullshit about that match. It's pointless. You lost. He got cheap and did what needed to be done. I want your head clear for next week and I want you to forget about what happened.

All of that is pointless. You're in the match up of the century, the premiere attraction of Rampage so to speak, and you're going to need everything and anything if you want to be able to walk out of Rampage, let alone walk out the winner.

Fuck those other matches. You book an Engel on a card, there's your main event. Now, put an Engel with a Lazarus, an established PWA legend, and you've got the best match of the year.

But this one's more than just business. It's personal. A guarantee of blood, revenge, and extreme violence.

Believe it.

Bring everything you got. McNasty and Wilkie are the people you don't need to be worrying about. Fuck'em. You think McNasty kicking you low and causing you a title that doesn't mean shit is bad? Wait. Just wait. You won't want to miss what will happen to you next Rampage.

I do not forgive.

I do not forget.

I'm giving you a war. I'm giving you something to fight for: your life.