The gym was a hub of activity in which everyone ranging from the fat to the athletically gifted worked to either maintain a superior build or sculpt globules of fat into mounds of muscle. Thank God Shawn was one of the former because dear GOD did he detest the latter.

Finishing a set of 15 reps with the 30-pound weights, he threw them down on either side of his seat and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. Next to him, 'The Main Man' Derek Hardaway completed a set of his own with slightly smaller 20-pounders. Once he was finished, the permagrin pointed in the direction of the third man of their pseudo-stable.

Chris Jacobs – dressed for the occasion in all-black gym attire, of course – leaned against the mirror with something weighing heavily on his mind. Shawn downed the last remnants of water in his bottle and glared at the Commie Emo.

"What’s got your panties in a twist, dude?" Shawn prodded.

"Yeah," Hardaway interjected. "What happened? You enter a Dashboard Confessional contest and come in fourth or something?" He shook his head. "Can’t imagine losing out in an emo contest. If the winners cut their wrists, what do the losers do?"

The silver tongue of the Main Man does little to faze the weightiness pervading through CJ’s veins.

"Admit it."

"Admit what?"

Jacobs looked at him crossly.

"Just admit it was you who fucked up her car, dude."

"It wasn’t me! I’m telling you. If it was me, I’d be singing it up and down in the streets like a jackass. I got a World title to keep. I can't afford to be getting locked up on some bullshit."

Shawn, CJ, and Derek found themselves sharing a seat at a bar the day his wife left him. Downing what had to be his eight or ninth Bud Light, Shawn slammed his glass on the counter.

"Know what I should fucking do for leaving me? I ought to FRAG her fucking personal property! Like her car or something!"

"HEAR-HEAR!"

The three men tapped glasses before taking hefty swigs from their respective drinks.

"I was kidding when I said that."

Back to Boozeland one more time.

"No joke, guys. No fucking joke. Seriously, I’m going to blow up her car and I’m gonna laugh the whole way."

Shawn started up a second set of reps while listening intently to his conversation with CJ. "Do you have a point, Chris?"

"Yeah… if in ANY way you’re linked to that and my name is brought up… I refuse to be dragged down with you. The three of us are at the cusp of big things in this business and we can’t afford anyone sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Not now."

"Oooooooooooh!" The Main Man snickered in the face of the tense situation as he wiped himself dry with his own gym towel. "I got ten bucks on the crazy old guy."

Neither Shawn nor CJ pay mind to the Main Man's caustic wit, but rather keep their attention saved for one another.

"Well," Shawn told him, trying to maintain his stoic composure in the wake of CJ’s threat. "Good sir, you are free to leave my stead at any time you see fit."

After reaching the fifteenth rep, Shawn let the weights collapse to the ground as his eyes darted toward CJ.

"However, Dev, indulge my long-winded speech for a second. It would serve you very well to know that questioning me will only get you nowhere and your ire is best saved for the fuckheads that mock you day in and day out. Your fight isn’t with me. Your fight…" He turned to exchange a glance with Derek. "Derek’s fight…" And a finger pointed directly on himself. "My fight is with every last naysayer that says that I don’t have it anymore. Your fight, CJ, is with everybody that accuses you of not being ready for the limelight. Your fight, Nino Brown, is a two-front war with all the people who say that you don't deserve all the success you had."

He was careful to avoid the Freudian slip. A snort from CJ cut Shawn off. "Something funny, Oompa?"

"Yeah. Your nostrils, like, really flare and shit when you rant."

"I’m with him," Hardaway jerked a thumb. "You make valid points, as usual… you could be a motivational speaker."

The Superwrestler laughed. "I did try once. The only good that did was give me a new outlet to tout my abilities as a cunning linguist. There were hot chicks at some of those seminars, you see."

As the trio known by many as "The Dynasty" all shared a laugh, Shawn folded his arms and grinned. His brother, Timothy, was right.

This "cool-headed mastermind" thing was a lot more useful than people gave it credit for.

"Far beneath a man trapped in madness was a man of great profundity. The sound of his voice carried an undeniable charisma that made disciples out of doubters. Rousing speeches and incomparable bravado were the tools at his disposal to incite the masses and spark interest in whatever course of action the Captain decided to undertake. Even the loner Ishmael and the soft-spoken Starbuck found themselves captivated by the sound of his mere voice. The crew saw him as their highest authority even though his goals remained purely monomaniacal."

_________--________

The following promotion is brought to you the Peoples Hero... Shawn Christopher.

"Aight people.

Last promo, I showed a different side of myself. I said some things that I know some people in the XWF 'upper management' ain't gonna like. But this promo, we get back to basics. Time to focus on my two opponents, the two men who really don't deserve this opportunity, but Jon wants to try to get this title off me yet again.

So you’ll have to excuse me for keeping this brief, but I’m truly bored by my opponents.

So… what’s the matter guys? Cat got your tongues? If you two were scared… well that would just be pathetic now wouldn’t it?

Yes, it would.

But you’re rather pathetic individuals anyway. Now I know, I know… I said I wouldn’t try to make this a personal battle. But quite frankly playas, if that’s what it’s going to take in order to get you two into this match, well by God that’s what I’m going to do!

You two are the biggest pussy ass bitches I've ever seen. You two ain't got shit on me, you limp dicked muthafuckas And guess what? Both ya'll mommas are two dollar sluts. And your daddies are transsexuals."

.

.

.

.

.

"Nothing? God damn it. Somebody get their faces on a milk carton! Alert the Coast Guard! Inform Mexico that somebody literate may have ran across the border. Wait… no, they’ll have him shot faster than the vet should’ve have had him shot the moment they were born. I don’t want either put down, I want them found and dragged to the ring against me. I can’t have people running from me in my title matches. So please, please somebody help me.

Or better yet... maybe this is a good thing.

Maybe this is what Jon deserves for trying to screw me over in the first place. I mean, he made this big thing about giving me a challenge, and the two men that are supposed to be that challenge, are nowhere to be found. Maybe they realized what they were going up against and decided not to waste their time.

Well, the Savior that is. I truly have respect for MC Terrible, despite what I said earlier. I just wanna make sure that they give me a challenge this Thursday. Cause Lord knows at X-Mas Xtreme, that will be a walk in the park.

So I guess all that needs to be said is MC Terrible, I welcome the challenge. I know you'll bring it, but I hope you understand that it'll be in a losing effort. Nothing against you, I just feel that I'm better. And it's not just you, but I'm better than everyone in the XWF. And come Thursday night, you'll see why and probably become a believer.

As for your boy, the Savior... since he's decided to represent himself in silence, I'ma represent myself in the only way I know...

... fuck you. Enjoy your short lived moment in the spotlight while it lasts. Because I’m coming for you, and I’m taking everything you have. And I'm gonna hurt you and outwrestle you. The world will see that you are the Savior of nothing. I have already saved the XWF, and with my in charge, taken it to new heights, heights that you couldn't fathom.

This is my show that you've found you way onto. And just as fast, you're gonna find yourself off of it... at the hands, of the now and forever World champion.

Cheers."