"You wanted to see me, McClean?"

The scene fades in inside Clancy McClean's office within the GZW2K1 Towers.  A heavily perspiring Reject steps through the doorway and promptly takes a seat opposite his manager.

"...Uh, yeah.  Come in, take a seat."

Clancy cracks a faint smile at his own bad joke until he sees the unimpressed look on his client's face.

"McClean, I haven't got all night.  I called a cab ten minutes ago, it'll be outside any minute."

"Relax, 'Ject.  Consider it cancelled.  You've given yourself a magnificent showing tonight, but obviously it's come at  a price.  You need to rest.  I've booked you for a spa appointment tomorrow morning, and..."

Reject raises a disapproving eyebrow at the writer of Just Business.

"What?  You're telling me you couldn't do with a good massage-"

"It's not me, McClean."

The man from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania elaborates as he raises his fists, stained with dry blood from his no disqualification match from earlier in the night.

"The spa treatment isn't for me.  It isn't for these fists.  I'll get home to my crappy apartment and I'll treat these beasts to a bucket of ice.  To me, that's far more rejuvenating than any of your bullshit spas or massages..."

Clancy's face drops, as if slightly disappointed.

"Oh...  Kay...  You don't want any of that.  Forget it, it's gone.  It's time for us to look to the future, my good man...  That is, to look to Fallout: Collision Course!"

"What?"

"You didn't hear?"

"Didn't hear WHAT?!"

"You...  You've got a match on the card!"

Reject's otherwise sullen face lights up for a moment.

"You serious, Clancy?"

McClean nods.

"Against who?"

"Wait for it...  The Cursed Angel!!!  I can just see it now - Reject proves Cursed Angel's winning streak to be nothing more than a fluke!  What'cha think?"

Reject seems almost taken aback for a moment. 

"The Cursed Angel."

Clancy grins and nods.

"The Cursed Angel."

"Then so be it.  My ascension to worldwide recognition has taken on a new medium, and that is this creature known as an Angel.  Respect lingers just above his ultimately lifeless body, and it's just taunting me..."

"Uh... Yeah.  You'll beat him, right?  Done deal?  It's just in case there were to be any bets put on any particular former HKWF Hardcore Champion or anything..."

Reject sighs.

"Fuck that, McClean.  Throw your money away all you want, but don't involve me.  The respect and opportunity I speak of doesn't necessarily require a clean pinfall victory in order to be attained, you know...  As long as his pure blood is available to depict to the world exactly what I'm capable of, then your investment will pay off in the long run..."

"That's what I like to hear."

"Good.  Is that all?"

"It doesn't have to be...  You could come back to the house, I could introduce you to some of the ladies-"

Reject jerks up from his seat violently and begins to walk away, turning back to face his manager for a moment.

"Don't even start.  I've got a taxi to catch.  I'll be seeing you."

The scene came to a close as Reject hastily left the luxurious office.