The 7” record slipped from its sleeve and rotated betweens the palms of its holder a couple of times before being placed on the awaiting turntable. The holder lifted the needle arm and gave it a quick, sharp blow to remove any dust before sliding it over and placing it delicately into the groove. The same hand turned a couple of dials before setting the record spinning, flooding the room with the warmth only a vinyl record could produce.

No, you’re not gazing upon the mustachioed face of Bronson Box.

“Twice.” Alceo Dentari said simply. “I been pinned in that ring twice since startin’ here in Defiance. But neither time did the guy doin’ the pinnin’ deserve the badge he was claimin’.”

Dentari held up an index finger, “Guy number one, Mike Sloan.” he said slowly, and purposefully. “Now, Mike Sloan ain’t got himself to thank for gettin’ the rare opportunity a’ pinnin’ my shoulders to the mat. Nah, that accolade goes to Heidi Christenson an’ a particularly violent bout a’ PMS. Sloan got luckier than that leprechaun on the cereal box in week three, yet he still wants to go out on TV an’ try braggin’ to the world that he beat Alceo Dentari...”

Alceo shook his head slightly and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath a tried to compose himself, but it didn’t work. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Sloan!” He shouted with every inch of his body trembling, “You ain’t never beat me! Them record books might say yous eliminated me from that match, but what they don’t say is how yous managed to pull it off!”

Alceo’s usually pristine hair became less so as his trembling caused a single lock to fall across his face. He brushed it back haphazardly but refused to take his steely blue stare away from the camera.

“There ain’t no honor in pinnin’ a man already on the mat, damn near unconscious, after bein’ illegally choked.” He continued, sounding slightly calmer, but still appearing on the brink of bursting the blood vessel that throbbed in his temple, “Only one a’ the two a’ us should be ashamed a’ what happened that night, Sloan, an’ it sure as hell ain’t me.”

“But if yous really wanna wear that feather in your cap then you got your chance, ‘cause yous got me in these here playoffs.” Dentari continued as he tapped the arm of his chair, “An’ in a round I shouldn’t even be in to start with.”

Alceo diverted his gaze and looked away slightly ashamedly, “I spent months... months!... gettin’ myself to the top a’ Evolution, an’ in just two shows all that was work was undone by one man.” The fury returned to his voice as he spoke, and the trembling started up once again as he fought even harder to keep a lid on his temper, “A man I was stupid enough to believe in, a man I was dumb enough to think I could carry to the playoffs, an’ into the final... A man I was naive enough to trust.”

“That mask wearin’ Jap, Yoshikazu YAZ, not only cost me first place, but he cost me a first round bye when he tapped out to Claira St. Sure at WarGames.” Alceo spat as he leaned forwards and gripped tightly onto the arms of his chair, “An’ when you couple that with costin’ me the triple threat against Sam Turner Jr on the last Evolution show...”

He had to take another moment to compose himself. If he hadn’t he might have ripped the arm rests clean off of his throne, “Let’s just say YAZ had better be thankin’ his lucky stars that he ain’t in the runnin’ to be crowned the Master of Wrestlin’ no more.” He said, clearly the mere thought that YAZ had crashed out of the tournament after WarGames was the most minor consolation form him, “‘Cause if we was to meet in these playoffs I wouldn’t just make sure he didn’t walk out of New Orleans. I’d make sure he didn’t walk again.”

“Mabe I’m bein’ a little unfair on the slanty-eyed samurai though. After all, the blame for us losin’ WarGames can’t be laid entirely at his feet.” “Nah, dump some a’ that in front a’ Sam Turner Jr.”

“Or should I say Sam Turncoat Jr?” Dentari said before spitting on the floor beside him.

“That down there,” He said, pointing at the pool of phlegm, “That’s what I think a’ Sam Turner Jr after WarGames. Everyone knows what happened at Evo Eight, an’ how that country boy managed to make the most a’ YAZ’s failin’s.”

“But, Sammy Boy, you done screwed the pooch at WarGames when you proved just how thick that skull a’ yours is by turnin’ on your team to side with Heritage.” Dentari said pointing down the lens. “‘Cause when you chose to stab all a’ us in the collective back an’ help Claira St. Sure to victory... well, yous might as well a’ wrote ‘I don’t want my kneecaps’ on your god-damned forehead.”

“My record a’ judgin’ people these last couple a’ weeks has been well below my usual standard. I been underestimatin’ guys here, an’ overestimatin’ ‘em there.” He said holding out his hands, palms up. “Well this week I know exactly who I’m up against, an’ when I don’t even break a sweat provin’ Mike Sloan’s... ‘Victory’... over me was nothin’ more than a case a’ ‘right place, right time’...”

Dentari balled fists up and clenched them so tightly they could have rivaled the density of who he was sure would be his next opponent “I’m gonna go  ahead an’ beat Sam Turner Jr. so bad I’ll knock every-damn-one a’ his three teeth clean outta his gums.”

“‘Cause that lone place Evolution’s got in the final belongs to me, an’ ain’t nobody stoppin’ me from takin’ it.”

“Ain’t that a kick in the head.”

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