(I have a question. What's up with all these whiny-ass Falconers around here? "I should have the shot!" "No, I should have the shot!" "I deserve it more than you!" Geez, why don't you all just shut the f*ck up for a minute?! Instead of saying you deserve the shot, how about steppin' your monkey asses in the ring and proving you deserve it? "Oh, gee, I never thought of that." Idiots. And what about Craig Robinson? You all heard what he said. Does he not have any idea what kind of man he's dealin' with? Does he not realize that the one thing you never want to do under any circumstances is piss Drakestone off? Man. Two opponents for the BoV this Wednesday, and both of 'em have an IQ in the negative numbers. And what exactly do the two BoV members involved in this have to say about this situation? Let's find out.)

(The scene fades in at the BoV's private gym. Along with the usual assorted exercise equipment, situated in the center of the gym is an official wrestling ring. Gray canvas, black ring apron, black ring ropes, red turnbuckles, and the BoV logo slapped down in the center of the canvas. Among the equipment, we find Jim "The Icon" Daher working over a long punching bag, firing hard punches and martial arts-style kicks at it. Holding the bag is Drakestone, shouting words of encouragement (and insult) at The Icon. After a hard kick from The Icon, we pick up the conversation.)

Drakestone: Come on, you wimp! Is that the best you got?!

(The Icon fires a left. Pow!)

Drakestone: Weak-ass!

(A right!)

Drakestone: Horrible!

(Spinning roundhouse kick!)

Drakestone: Pathetic!

(The Icon fires another hard right, at which point Drakestone steps from behind the bag and goes to The Icon, gripping the Falconer Champion's head in both hands and getting right in his face.)

Drakestone: Listen up! Yes, Chris Cane is an idiot for not doing his research, but he will definitely not be pulling any punches. If you intend to keep that Falconer Title, you need to hit hard! You need to hit fast! You need to hit often! But more importantly: You need to prevent him from hitting you! It's all right that you can knock the stuffing out of a punching bag, but if you don't learn to keep your guard up and defend properly, you'll get knocked on your ass faster than Thurston Edward Marshall III! Now! Get over to that wrestling ring and grab one of our training opponents! He'll let you win no matter what happens, but if you take him lightly, he'll knock you flat on your ass! Go!

(The Icon nods, then slides into the ring, ready to take on whoever steps in. As one of the training opponents steps in and locks up with The Icon, the sound of a phone ringing emanates from Drakestone. He removes the cell phone from his belt clip, then opens it, raises the antenna, and presses "yes" to accept the call, placing the phone to his ear.)

Drakestone: Drakestone. Oh, hey, Doom. What's up? Yeah, I'm at the gym. Daher's here with me. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Oh, they have? That's gonna set him off for sure. Any word from Robinson or Cane? Nothin' from Cane. Not surprised. But Robinson...? Oh, you heard he said all that, huh? Right. Right. Don't worry, Doom, I won't kill him. Tell you the truth, I'm amused he thinks he stands a chance. What's that? Career in street fighting? Been there, done that. Won my first World Title in a street fight, against a former Hardcore Champion, too, and that was five months into my career. Embrace me with his darkness? I'm sorry, was that supposed to be intimidating? What's that? He debated giving one of his nicknames to me? Oh, gee, thanks. What'd he settle on? Broken Body or Generic Ferret? Wow, that was original. No, Doom, that was sarcasm, you idiot. He said that? Big I am, but stupid I am not. And he's gonna find that out this Wednesday. Am I gonna drop him with the Final Judgement? You'd better believe it, and I'll do it one time for every time he disrespects me. He's gonna learn to give me the respect I deserve, and if he's gotta learn the hard way...then so be it. His Final Judgement has been passed. He'd better give his soul to the Lord...'cause his ass belongs to me. All right, thanks for the info, Doom. Later.

(He pushes "yes" on his phone again, hanging up, then closes the phone and pushes down the antenna, placing the phone back on his belt clip. At that moment, back in the ring, The Icon drops his opponent with an Icon's Smackdown off the top rope, then makes the pinfall: 1...2...3! With his match won, The Icon slides out of the ring and grabs a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. He walks over to Drakestone.)

Jim "The Icon" Daher: Who was that on the phone?

Drakestone: Just Doom. He was lettin' me know what's been goin' on in the GWA since our interview with Gaines at my house.

(The Icon raises an eyebrow as an anticipatory smirk comes to his face.)

The Icon: Oh? Anything from our mentally deficient friend Cane?

Drakestone: Not a peep, but he tells me that damn near every other Falconer has come on TV claiming that they deserve the shot over Cane. Among them Thurston Edward Marshall III. He claims the only reason he lost to you at Avalanche was because he'd already wrestled earlier that night.

The Icon: You've gotta be sh*ttin' me. For the love of God, cry me a river, why don't ya. He wants to whine about not gettin' a shot? Well, I'm gonna be havin' that contract taped to my door every Wednesday. If he wants a shot, all he's gotta do is sign on the dotted line. He's got no excuse to be whinin' like a little baby. He had a chance to get a title shot, and he chose not to sign the contract last Wednesday. So until he signs that contract, he can just kiss my rosy red ass.

(Drakestone chuckles.)

Drakestone: All right, but what about Chris Cane?

(The Icon smirks.)

The Icon: You just said it, D. What about Chris Cane? The man hasn't said a word since returning with the (ahem) "Midnight Syndicate," which as far as I'm concerned is the biggest group of jokes and has-beens ever collected, not to mention the fact that he was retarded enough to pick my specialty match to wrestle me in, so why the hellfire and brimstone should I be concerned about this guy? Look, D, it's like this. There are three classes in the wrestling business: superstar, has-been, and never-was. From what I know of Cane, he falls under the category of never-was.

(He picks the Falconer Title belt up from a nearby bench.)

The Icon: This belt right here puts me in the superstar class. This match is superstar vs. never-was in the superstar's specialty match with the superstar's title on the line. Do the math. It all adds up to me proving once again that I am and will always be the man, the myth, the legend, the only Falconer that matters, the summation of every man's aspirations, and the object of your girlfriend's masturbations! But more importantly than all that, it all adds up to the painfully obvious conclusion that Cane will be just one more person to get dropped with The Icon's Smackdown and pinned for the one, the two, and the three. And after I beat him and retain my Falconer Title, I'll be right there in his face to say, "It's been fun, but I've gotta go locate some real competition, so thank you, and have a nice FRICKIN' day." Come on, D. Let's go get somethin' to eat.

(With that, The Icon and Drakestone head to the exit and leave the gym. The scene then slowly fades to black.)

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