{The scene fades in, with the "Lone Gunman" John Taylor sitting in a cab. The driver, a plump, red faced man, wearing a Manchester City jersey, with food stains all over it. The cheap, poor quality radio is playing some folk music when it suddenly cuts out.}

Driver: So, a wrestler eh?

Taylor: How did you guess? The GZW Light Heavyweight Belt around my waist, the HKWF Gym Bag or the fact I told you 50 times already?

Driver: Oh yeah, he he he!

Taylor: Listen, I am not paying you to try to make conversation OK, I just want you to drive me to the Manchester Evening News Arena, and cease to exist in my life. Is that so much to ask?

Driver: Temper Temper! You must be one of those baddies, what do they call them again...{Scratches Chin} Toe or Heel...or....

Taylor: Why don't you just pull up over there?

Driver: But we're still half an hour driving to get to the arena!!

Taylor: I could do with a walk, have to clear my mind, focus on the task at hand.

Driver: Uh...are you sure?

Taylor: Let me out NOW!

{The driver pulls up at the roadside, outside a small garage. Taylor steps out, carrying his gym bag over one shoulder, and his Title around his waist.}

Driver: Hey buddy...that'll cost ya!

Taylor: Why should I pay you for pestering me, for bugging me, for annoying me? WHY? I might as well have come in a hot air balloons with monkeys, and it'd have been quicker, easier, and a lot cheaper than ridin' in your stank hole of a car!

Driver: {Confused. Thinks for a moment.} 50 Quid mate!

Taylor: I don't want to buy the taxi you know! On seconds thoughts, {Reaching into his pocket} Here! Take it all!!! {Tosses five £20 notes at the driver} It's all I have!!! Take it all if it'll get you off my case!!! But I sincerely hope you choke on the liqour you purchase with that dirty money, I hope you see my face in the cake you buy with it. Just remember me when you are buyi-

{Taylor looks up to see the taxi is gone. Taylor sighs, and starts to walk in the direction of the M.E.N Arena.}

Taylor: {Raindrops begin to fall} Raindrops, each like a tiny tremor, a warning of something big that's coming. The horizon will begin to crumble tonight, all at the hands of these tremors, these warnings, and I am in control, me. Pitfighter, tonight the everlasting silence will be finally broken, along with your legs! Tonight is a night where careers will be made, careers broken, all that crap. But what does it mean to be a "CareerMaker"? Does it mean being tossed over the top rope by John Taylor? Or maybe it means something totally different, I think it means that Nathaniel davis is the biggest wuss in the world, hiding behind his "Entertainment Center" and "CareerMaker". Nathaniel Davis is not all goody goody, Nathaniel Davis is not perfect, Nathaniel Davis is not the person you all think he is.

Because I can tell, that Nathaniel is jealous, he sees his brother Deacon, his brother in law Sincere, on top of the world, and where is he? Nowhere! Just like a headless duck, a sitting duck, his role model and guide Tate Edmonson has turned back to his troublesome days, all Nathaniel claims to have worked for, crushed, and now where is his precious Tate? Where he belongs, with the Blackhearts, with the HKWF and GZW. But Nathaniel, I don't have to deal with you tonight, no, I have a much simpler fish to fry. This fish is the one known as Pitfighter. Pitfighter felt the pain of utter silence last week on Manslaughter, and tonight, when I snap his lower body into pieces, when he cries and squeals, whines and moans, I will be at the controls, each punch, kick, move like a tremor, all leading to the inevitable earthquake that I like to call the Silencer!

{Taylor continues to walk on as the scene fades out.}