"I'm glad to see I struck such a chord with you, Magic Act."

The uncomfortable darkness succumbed to stage lighting as the figure of John Taylor came into view, leaning casually against a nondescript white brick wall.  It could've been a stage prop, it could've been the exterior of the GZW2K1 Coliseum.  It could've been Taylor's own house, but it didn't matter in the slightest.  The light source somewhere behind the camera, Taylor's stare was just a little off-kilter.  Composing himself, he spoke up.  Eloquence and clarity seemed to be the order of the day.

"I'm impressed, Sean.  You've finally grown out of the 'louder you shout' mentality.  More or less, anyway.  Even still, you managed to get your point across with considerable clarity.  I would apologise for ruffling your feathers, but I've already tasted the 'benefits' of being on your good side, and I don't think I'd bother with them again.  You want to carry out your one man crusade against Nathan Williams?  You want that final encounter so bad?  You're that patriotic about the business that you vow to continue until the bitter end?  Then get to it already.  The two of you have been parading around GZW airwaves for nearly two months now, but you've yet to do ANYTHING substantial in regards to this overly hyped affair.  If the two of you sincerely despised each other and were wrestling for the sake of wrestling as opposed to receiving a high-end PPV cut, why not arrange for the match to take place on one of the company's many periodical house shows, or at least a televised crimson?  If it were truly as personal as it's being billed as, what possible reasoning have you for waiting TWO MONTHS and countless shows for it to take place?"

"But as Jimmy Williams has pointed out before, you seem to take everything far too personal for your own good.  Watching your little speech from the back at Storm, I got the distinct feeling that you're using me to make yourself feel better after a lacklustre two months.  Why else would you ask such irrelevant questions as what have I ever done for this company?"

"The question, Fiery, is what has this fucking company ever done for ME?!"

"Three weakly displayed months...  That about sums it up, Sean.  I came to this company and worked my fucking ass off, and for what?  To be held back because of my FUCKING GIMMICK?  After three months and the then-most dominating Light Heavyweight title reign in the company's history, I'm called aside and told that's as far as I'll go.  Was it because I wasn't good enough?  No.  Did I lack the mic skills?  No, but how would anyone have known anyway?  Back then I was lucky to get one fucking timeslot on GZW TV to the unlimited number afforded to the likes of Seven these days.  The point was, I was HKWF's Hitman.  I was the silent assassin.  I did the dirty work for the team, whilst that same fucking team reaped MY rewards.  I slaved away atop the Light Heavyweight Division whilst my peers were getting shots at the INTERCONTINENTAL TITLE.  This was all within those three months.  Why was Len DuBray getting shots at Pimp Bizkit while I was stuck defending against the never-ending cycle of Pitfighter, Adam Cage and company."

"Why was that?  Was it because "The Lizard" was simply a class above "The Lone Gunman"?  No.  Was it because he was a better, more dedicated worker?  No.  Then why?  It was because of my fucking gimmick.  It was because I was the loner, the social outcast.  I was the guy in jeans amongst gentlemen in suits.  I was laconic.  I was silent.  But of course, I didn't care, right?  I got to be accompanied to the ring by Ms. Fox Giovanni...  I got paid better than the majority of my fellow mid-carders.  But what the fuck is money worth?  Besides, I worked harder than ninety-nine per cent of those 'up-and-comers'.  But still, the best I could have hoped for was entry in a tag team title gauntlet...  The fact that the then-champions were released DURING their 'reign' says a whole lot about the credibility that the division had."

"And what about the days I had to go through the best Heavyweight talent?  Non-existent, obviously.  But you say this as though I took some shortcut, as though I took some easy way out of something.  I YEARNED for a shot at any of them, Sean.  You fucking know that, so don't even try to preach to me.  Those few times I actually did get in the ring with the 'upper-tier' were always marred and over-shadowed by HKWF and Bad Company involvement.  My singles match with Sho "Firefly" Murakame is a prime example...   We hadn't been grappling two minutes before a Wicked Ways-era Deacon Kane came out and won the match for me.  Sure, the score card acknowledges that I pinned Firefly in singles competition, but it means nothing.  Thanks to Deacon, I'll never know how I would've compared to one of the men I idolized in HKWF.  The same can even be said when myself and the aforementioned Len DuBray teamed up to take on two good guys called "Magic" and "T-Rex".  "The Perfect Tag Team", according to one Sean Fiery..."

Taylor looked away for a moment, subconsciously scratching at his goatee before continuing.  

"And what happened there?  Did John Taylor get to show the world what he was capable of in tying up with a former two-time World Champion and a future World Champion?  No, not in the slightest.  Once again, it was simply a Bad Company plan to pull a quick one on the good guys.  Juvenile, really.  Things had barely started before the Stormriders, Nagasaki, Teardrop and their ilk hit the ring and a beatdown on the Perfect tag team ensued.  The 'match' was declared a no-contest and I went back to the 'day job' of tearing through the Light Heavyweight and sloppy midcard divisions while you and Nathan went back to the comfortably predictable trials and tribulations of a 'Heavyweight Competitor'... "

"I was gone from the company not a month later."

Taylor desisted from scratching absently at his facial hair before staring straight up at the camera.

"...Again I pose the question, WHAT THE FUCK HAS THE GZW DONE FOR ME?!  You expect me to respect your little kiss-ass patriot bullshit when as far as I'm concerned, I don't owe the company one red cent.  As much as people like you like to avoid it, professional wrestling does go on outside the confines of the CCW.  Any number of non-CCW and GZE affiliated promotions would be LUCKY to have me...  The fact is that the GZW needs me considerably more than I need it.  That, in itself, is what I've done for the GZW..."

"Moving on, for the time being...  This upcoming Crimson is set to host my first-ever singles meeting with James Corbin.  Although it has the potential to be soiled or tainted by any number of fathomable possibilities, it could easily become match of the night.  Were it guaranteed to be a one-on-one affair, I have no doubt that it could quite possibly be match-of-the-year material, but I suppose this is the best I can hope for.  Inevitably, the Heretics will become involved?  How?  The list is endless.  Why?  I don't honestly know.  Monarch is one of, if not THE best ever.  It is very possible that he is simply better than I, but nobody knows until we throw down.  And if I were to outwretle the Wrestling Franchise...  What harm would that do?  Worst case scenario from his point of view - he taps out clean to the Silencer in the middle of the ring.  I think he's a little too accomplished and a little too widely respected to give a flying fuck about a couple of "YOU TAPPED OUT" chants.  Were he to win, that would only bury the Lone Gunman further, and that's definitely what the Heretics want.  Honestly, to weigh up both possibilities, I would conclude that it is easily worth the 'risk' for Monarch to go into this one without any exterior Heretic involvement whatsoever."

"Maybe I'm wrong..."

The light gave way to darkness as the scene came to a close.