[Music.]

http://youtu.be/h-DELauCtZ8

[A voice from the darkness.]

Voice:

... no bible verses today.

[CLUNK.]

[Clink clink clink.]

Voice:

I feel platitudes would be lost on you Dragon Jones.

[Banks of florescent lights flicker on overhead, humming through the eerie music. Once illuminated we see him... sheered head, pressed pinstripe suite, freshly waxed mustache. The dapper mauler of men himself, Bronson Box. The ever present shadow of the yet unnamed red haired woman stalking behind him, barefoot, in a long flowing cream colored gown.]

Bronson Box:

Because you're a bleedin' fool, boy. One of many fools around this promotion who take great pains to make light of this sport and the men who do it well, namely me. For as long as I've been a part of this great tradition I've seen you out of the corner of my eye, Dragon. Your little t-shirts, your slogans, your japes and jibes... 

[Box sniffs and takes a step towards the camera.]

Bronson Box:

Now we're to believe you got your bloody "brains scrambled" and your a changed man? I'm still seein' the silly t-shirts, I'm still hearin' the jokes... I don't like it, Dragon. I really don't. And I aim to make a statement at War Games. Believe that. Beyond your ridiculous gimmick, beyond the chuckles and guffaws of the morons that attend the show... after the promos are done?

I'm going to prove your dear old Pa' right, Dragon... I'm aim to make a bloody fool out of you, boy'o.

[The red haired woman smiles and runs her fingers along Box's shoulders.]

Bronson Box:

As for your littler threat? The light tube? Well...

[Box smiles and slowly pulls something very familiar from inside his coat.]

[The spike.]

Bronson Box:

Remember this? Cancer Jiles does. So do Edward White, Chris Cannon and Boston Bancroft. Don't dare threaten me with utter brutality, boy... you'll get it back ten fold. And then, yes then you'll get on your bloody knees and pray that legendary pain tolerance of yours kicks in...

[Box puts the spike back into his jacket pocket.]

Bronson Box:

I crushed the behemoth who "scrambled your brain" son. I lifted him over my head and broke him like the fat cretin he is. So what exactly do you think you can do to me, Dragon Jones? You're a very intuitive lad. I'd recon someone in power does wants your gone.

And at War Games I aim to give 'em that pleasure.

Simple as that.

[Amen.]

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