The security camera footage flickers to life, we’re inside the private dressing room of the one and only BRONSON BOX. The Wargod is sitting on a low slung leather sofa enjoying what’s surely a fine Scotch whiskey as he intently watches the very end of the night's impromptu main event. The images of the FIST of DEFIANCE getting strapped around the waist of Curtis Penn garners a weak snarl and a disappointed shake of the head.

Bronson Box:
Fookin’ disgrace, that. But bravo Ms. Katze… [quieter, almost aside] Well played, lass.

He takes a sip of his drink and continues watching. Kelly Evans’ chase through the backstage area, following the trail of the returning Dan Ryan garners a chuckle from the Original DEFIANT.

Bronson Box:
Ooooooh Danny-boy, what balls lad. I ‘aint even laid hands on Kelly ya’ big nutter basta… [trailing off suddenly]

His face goes slack… then a DEEP snarl forms on his lips, causing his mustache to twitch.

*sknik* 

His grip on his scotch glass is so tight a small crack forms up the side.



Bronson Box:
Well hello, Eric...

Static.

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