A low cough was heard through the scene's complete darkness.  Soon to follow was the instantly recognisable, paced and methodical yet effortlessly monotone voice of GZW2K1 World Heavyweight Champion, John Taylor.  

"Playing a role was right on the money, Child of Chaos."

"One week from now, you and I will step into the ring for the first time.  Not only will it be our first meeting, it'll be my first title defence.  It'll be my first opportunity to prove my worth as Heavyweight Champion of the World."

"This Thursday at Titan, I have to prove to them all that I am Championship material.  I have to reassure the unsure that GZW standards, namely the standards of 'main event' talent, haven't slipped.  It's up to me to show the world, from the smartest mark to the most casual fan, that the competitors of today can be every bit as capable and worthwhile as those of yesteryear, those that graced this promotion's roster during the famed Glory Days.  It's all on me to prove the current epidemic of one defence champions to be nothing more than a flash in the pan, a momentary lapse of reason on the part of the booking committee."

"The problem lies not with the talent available, or the fictitious lack thereof, but rather in the incompetent talent hand chosen to go for the gold.  It's taken the decision makers long enough to open the door to let me get a damn foot in, at this rate it'll take another year at least to legitimise the title picture."

"Pimp Bizkit doesn't deserve to be contending for the title.  After his ridiculous victory over yours truly at Fallout: Return To Glory and his subsequent, utterly abysmal title reign, it's questionable as to whether or not he should even be a part of the main roster.  Even within his own stable, there are at least two men, namely James Corbin and Nathan Williams, who are far more deserving and competent than he, yet they're lingering outside the true upper card.  Give Electric Sharpe a month or two and it'll be the same deal."

"Kid Kaos, you're of a different breed altogether."

"As you're fully aware, Kid, you've got all the elusive tools required to make it big in this trade.  You're young.  You're incredibly athletic.  You're charismatic. You're small enough to fly circles around nine tenths of the roster, yet big enough not to be tarred with the purgatorial Light Heavyweight brush that has buried many a man's career.  I'd know, it certainly buried mine.  All of this, however, and you're only now seeing your first main event since the restart?  Something just doesn't add up.  You know that as well as anyone.  Yet the very people you run around fighting for are those holding you back.  You take pride in being the frontrunner, the poster boy for the virtually non-existent Team GZW,  yet those in charge, the ones you battle the Heretics and the DisOrder to try and keep in power, see it as nothing more than the easiest possible way to keep you on a leash, to keep you at a safe arm's length from the richest prize.  In effect, you're doing the hard work so that they don't have to.  The board are satisfied to see you taking on two and three Midcard matches a night - tag matches that will ultimately become obsolete as soon as this second coming of the Stable War is through.  Why?  Because it keeps you quiet.  To them, you being the figurehead for the fans is merely a means of holding you back without actually having to come out and say it.  Like you said, you're playing a role."

"But why are you being held back, you wonder?  As I said, you've got it all.  That's coming from the World Heavyweight Champion, supposedly the toughest critic of them all.  I don't know the answer.  Perhaps it's that the company has seen the failure rate of its last two champions and decided to play it safe by giving me the title shot?  Perhaps they're grooming you until the time is right.  Perhaps, but none of that matters anymore."

"What matters now, Child, is that you've been given a title shot.  Why?  In order to prove your worth?  Possibly.  In order to pass the time between now and the Lord of the Coliseum tournament?  Quite possibly.  To solidify my worth as champion and show the world that the company has a legit champion once again?  Most definitely."

"Although you may see this as your time or your big break, I must assure you that it is not.  Of course, your time will come.  But it won't be November fourth.  November fourth, you once again play a role.  This time, you're there to play the role of challenger.  You, the leader of the fictitious Team GZW, challenges the "Lone Gunman", John Taylor.  Are you there to play the role of valiant warrior?  No.  You're there simply to get a pop from the crowd, and more importantly to generate additional heat for me.  I'm supposed to be the bad guy, here, Kid.  Ironically, it'll be you, the good guy, the hero, that solidifies my status as such.  For that, I must thank you in advance."

"Kaos, you're set for one of the biggest matches of your career.  I say that not through tinted glasses, but with my eyes wide open.  Of course it's all hallow as the result is literally a foregone conclusion, but even still...  At least you'll be able to say you escaped your captor's leash, if even for only thirty minutes, this Thursday night."

"It's a lot more than can be said for most, Child.  I'd advise you - appreciate it.  Maybe two, three years down the line they'll take off the tinted glasses and see you for what you really can be..."

"...Probably not, though.  Unfortunately, Kid Kaos, attention must shift from you temporarily as a veritable unwanted blemish has come up that needs seeing to."

The exact cough from earlier echoed throughout the dark scene, as if to cue the all-encompassing light that subsequently flooded it.  The initial hazy blindness of the sudden light out of the way, the scene materialised within a small, generic church.  The walls were covered in a coat of beige, but they could've just as easily been cream, white or yellow.  The stain glass windows were covered almost entirely by black plastic bags, keeping any exterior light out.  The scene's primary light source came from the row of cheap, factory-made, bought-in-bulk overhead bulbs.  John Taylor wasn't to be seen at first, but on closer inspection was kneeling in front of the altar, as if in prayer.  His inexpressive voice emitted almost a low giggle.

"This is what I pray to, Seven?  Really?", he asked, not averting his gaze from the book on the red carpeted altar below him.

"This piece of carpeting?  This furniture?  These organs?  This book?  Seven, you know a lot less about me than you think, and I would point out that your proverbial plate isn't so empty that you can just, completely out-of-the-blue, attempt to stick your nose into my affairs.  I'll remind you that you're booked against Phillip Tytan in less than a week at this upcoming Titan, just in case you forgot, what with all your inane shouting and grim staring.  I'll also point out that, whilst that match is on second in the show and is nothing more than a throwaway match to fill up the card, I've got the distinction once again of wrestling in the main event, defending my World Heavyweight title.  Anyway, if going through the motions will get you out of my hair for a while, then go through them I shall."

Zooming in, the camera revealed the 'book' to be a transcript of Seven's latest promo.

"What makes me worthy of holding the title?  Firstly, reaching the final of the World Heavyweight Title tournament only to be cheated out of the final by Nathan Williams, leaving me, rightfully at top of the contenders list.  Secondly, I went into the triple threat title match last week at Fallout: Collision Course, and I won.  I beat both former champion Pimp Bizkit and possible future champion James Tanner.  I can't put it any more simply than that."

"What makes me the Ring Of Honour Icon?  Frankly, nothing.  I'm not a Ring Of Honour Icon, Seven.  Perhaps you've got me confused with someone else..."

"What have I done to put me in consideration for a hall of fame?  Where should I start?  I'm the World Heavyweight Champion...  I was one of the first and most dominant Light Heavyweight Champions back when divisions actually meant something.  I'm a former Wrestler of the Month within the GZW.  I've beaten Pimp Bizkit.  I've competed in the GZW, HKWF and UJW.  There you go, off the very top of my head, five things that just might put me into consideration for it somewhere down the line."

"I've never referred to myself as a legend, Seven, be it true, bona fide or otherwise.  Confused again?"

"You tell me nothing will stop you from taking what you want.  What is it that you want, exactly?  My title?  In all fairness, I've already beaten you twice.  I've proved that I can beat you, in effect that I can stop you from getting what you want.  Perhaps you will settle for the HKWF Hardcore Title after all."

"Pull politics?  Don't make me laugh, Dark Angel."

"You'll be looking for me after Wyldesyde?  So be it.  Of course, I'll be back here in the States, living it up, but don't worry, I know what you're trying to say.  If intimidation is the order of the day, you might want to confer with your DisOrder stablemate Paul Spartan before you next grace the airwaves, so as to get your stories straight.  Once all that crap has blown over, Seven, I'll be waiting."

The scene closed.