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Doom: Yo, what's goin' on, folks? This here's Doom, 'long with Doomsday. Yo, Hayle, gotta question for ya. What th' hell're you talkin' about, son? It ain't no stable match. It's you - just you - versus us - just us two - in a No DQ, No Interference Handicapped Match. What part'a that don't ya understand? Handicapped means ya got no help. No Total D. Just Hayle. And since we beat y'all's asses this past Wednesday, we ain't gonna have a problem doin' it again this Wednesday. An' if any of yer Total D boys come down ta help yer ass out, well, you can damn well believe that ol' Fury'll have a little somethin' ta say about it. But ya know somethin'? We might just take it easy on ya this time, Hayle. It ain't your fault yer a flamin' idiot. We're just gonna have ta take it upon ourselves ta remove yer punk asses from the gene pool...permanently. Basic'lly, Hayle, you can promise all the blood spillin' ya want, but come match time, the only blood you'll be spillin'...will be yer own. Tell 'im, Dooms.

Doomsday: Ah, Mr. Hayle. I simply must ask. What was it that made you think you were facing the entire Brotherhood of Vengeance? And what on Earth made you think you would actually have some help? And what in God's creation made you think you might actually win? Hayle, look at it seriously. You and Rayne were both soundly trounced by Doom and I in tag team action. Not just barely...soundly. You posed so little challenge that we were able to take you out long enough to put both our finishers on your partner and gain the pinfall victory. Conclusion? Your fate was sealed the moment you picked up that phone and called Mr. Fury. We shall be doing to you exactly what we did to Rayne last Wednesday: obliteration. Do you doubt our ability to do just that? Big mistake. We shall defeat you one more time, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Your own...Doomsday...is at hand. Accept your fate...for you cannot hope to change it.

(With that, the scene slowly fades to black.)

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