The traditional black and red vinyl DEFIANCE banner hangs against a plain white cinderblock wall. He’s almost a blur walking across the completely still cameras purview. A flash all brown and fleshy and spattered in blood. After a second and third pass he finally stops, veins throbbing in the side of his head. Mangled shoulder still bleeding down the front of his singlet. The ACE is in rare form tonight after Cayle Murray managed to get the best of him and bury Eric Dane’s trademark fork deep into his dense sinewy shoulder meat.

Bronson Box:
FOOKIN’ FINALLY! Thanks be to the good God above, it finally happened! After a fookin’ YEAR...

He nearly shrieks the word year like it’s been lodged in his throat for as long. His whole body shakes with what’s surely an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and pure unfettered hate.

Bronson Box:
For a bloody year I’ve poked and prodded and terrorized you you fookin’ wee prick. Just like I have so many times before with so many other little twats just like you. I’ve been sayin’ it fer’ near on seven FOOKIN’ years… I’ve been demonstratin’ it just as long. When lads plan on steppin’ up here in DEFIANCE there’s only one man te’ test ‘em… ONE FOOKIN’ MAN TRIAL OF FOOKIN’ MANHOOD! And yer’ lookin’ right at him boys… right FOOKIN’ at him!

He grabs at his still weeping, oozing shoulder wound.

Bronson Box:
You were so close to breakin’ there boy. So FOOKIN’ close. Then comes tip toein’ Eric, whisperin’ notes of sweet sweet violence and terror to be sure. You bloody CHEATED… good show, lad. Ye’ made a deal with Satan himself. Didn’t think ye’ had it in ye’.

Pulling his hand away covered in sticky half congealed blood which he promptly wipes across his chest. He opens and closes his hand a few times, looking at the blood still staining his fingers.

Bronson Box:
As Eric’s sure to have told ye’... if you expect to walk away from our match at the PPV you’d better be ready to bloody cheat cheat. You’d better be ready to break every rule you LIVE yer’ shite little life by. You’d better be ready to disappoint ol’ Andrew and Mama Murray back home. You’d better be ready to perpetrate acts that’ll make them ASHAMED of you and what this WICKED company’s made you become! “WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO OUR PRECIOUS BOY!” they’ll lament as they watch you try your best to MURDER ol’ Boxer!

The dark, hate filled energy Boxer is beaming into the camera is so much is causes the camera man to take a few cautionary steps back. Box notices this and quickly reaches out with his bloody hand and palms the lens of the camera. He kicks out with his boot and yanks the camera free from the terrified cameraman’s hands. He takes his hand away from the lens, our view now tinted red with Boxers own blood.

He holds the camera aloft with his good arm.
 
He waits a few beats before continuing.

Bronson Box:
I’ve got nothin’ left that’ll bring me any joy in this world other than to crumple you up like a bloody letter and toss you down at Eric Dane’s fookin’ feet. Like fookin’ TRASH.

His wild bloodshot eyes dart and dance around, unfocused and filled with hatred.

Bronson Box
Your souls gunna’ be just a little filthier, a little darker when I’m done with ye’... Cayle.

Remember that.

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