The camera crew is jogging at a brisk pace down the crowded hallway, shouldering past talent and production staff alike to reach one of the back exists to the building. Someone was reported seen leaving the premises, you see…

Dave Felcher:
If Lance and Christie won’t seek out interviews with the guy I sure as heck-fire will, so hurry up! I want to catch Box before he*ooof*...

Resident internet dweeb and wannabe reporter Dave Felcher, obviously in a hurry to “get the hot scoop” runs headlong into what must have felt like a brick wall. A brick wall that happens to be wearing a brown and grey three piece pinstripe suit. Felcher looks up with terror in his eyes. We can just make out the camera crew sniggering “well you found him, genius” under their breath as Dave silently takes in the victorious Wargod standing before him.

Dave Felcher:
… I, uhhh… can… talk… me…

Tongue tied and at a complete loss for words Dave just points at the microphone. Slowly, but without hesitation Bronson Box lightly grips the microphone with the thumb and forefinger on one hand, PIE-FACING Dave’s entire being out of frame with the other. The Original DEFIANT flips the microphone this way and that for a few moments before finally bringing it to his lips. For another awkwardly silent but boundlessly intense moment Boxer just stands and stares at the camera almost perched, reach to speak.

Finally.

Bronson Box:
And just like that… [a smile creeps across his lips] POOF... all gone. All that momentum, all that promise just vanished into bloody vapor.

Boxer takes a step back and wags a “playful” finger at the camera before hooking his thumb in the front pocket of his vest with a snort.

Bronson Box:
You, beebopin’ around here with yer’ fookin’ earbuds and yer’ fookin’ hoodies and that smug SANCTIMONIOUS millennial attitude o’ yours. Enough people filled yer’ head with this IDEA yer’ some sort of squeaky clean superstar hero you started to believe it. Yer’ a self satisfied, self congratulatory, SPOILED little prick who’s thus far in his hand held little career gotten every. Thing. He’s. Ever. WANTED. … not tonight though. No sir.

He lets that last bit hang in the air between he and the camera for a bit.

Bronson Box:
Once again Bronson Box goes out there and shows some unworthy outsider which way the FOOKIN’ wind blows! Now squid? Leave… tuck yer’ tail between yer’ legs and LEAVE. Like they all LEAVE! Tom Sawyer GONE Xavier Langston GONE Christian Light GONE Boston Bancroft GONE Dusty Griffith GONE Ty Walker GONE Stephen Greer GONE Eugene Dewey, Chris Cannon, Edward White, Claira St. Sure, Heidi Christenson, Jeff Andrews GONE GONE GONE GONE GONE FOOKIN’ GONE! Even ERIC DANE HIMSELF is bloody gone…

A long, deep, guttural sigh. A release of frantic energy from The Wargod.

Bronson Box:
I’m the old man on the hill. I’m the last bloody man standin’... I am DEFIANCE Wrestling. That ‘aint boastin’ that’s fookin’ FACT. Not Kelly, not Jane, not Angus and not any one of you can say sideways. I'm the soul of this bloody company! You wanna’ prove me otherwise, squid? Well… you take any big plans of steppin’ back up to me with some cockeyed challenge come DEFtv because as of right now? [he hooks a thumb over his shoulder] back of the line, sunshine… 

Like the chuckle is escaping a cement mixer, The Scottish Strongman drops the mic with a breathy laugh before disappearing out the nearby exit door out into the warm Louisiana night.

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