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The following is an SGW.com Exclusive Backstage Premium All-Access Subscrption Package Clip....

 ✠ FOOL'S GOLD ✠

The scene is currently backstage during Bad Signal in Atlanta, Georgia. The show is still ongoing as the fans are heard cheering loudly for the main event of Gionna Daddio vs Nia Jax. A loud, piercing siren cuts through the air as an ambulance goes racing by the camera. Slowly pulling up in its place, is a long limo that stops to a halt. The driver gets up, going toward the rear passenger door and opens it as he stands formally, hands crossed in front of him. Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley enters the shot, not paying the driver any mind as she slips in into the limo. Though she pops her head back out to yell back offscreen.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Come on you two! Let's get the hell out of here before The Rock shows up and starts blabbering some insane self-monologue!

Dressed casually in a biker jacket, Motörhead t-shirt and jeans, Triple H is wheeling his carry-on case with him as HBK walks with him, nagging him like a disappointed school teacher.

HBK: Look, all I'm sayin' is the kid came to you with good intentions! I mean sure, he looks like a strange mix of a clown and Sting, and I have no idea how he has authority to get people into matches, but he did so! And it's an Intercontinental Title Match!

Triple H pauses his step and looks at HBK with a "Really?"

Triple H: Just because I agreed to the match, you think I'm supposed to be excited about it? Oh yay! SGW is bringing back an old, defunct second tier belt, hooray!

Triple H brings his thumb and forefinger together in a clear "this close" expression.

Triple H: It was this close to a perfect match until that Marilyn Manson reject and Mick Foley's brat distracted me. It gave Val just enough time to get a few breaths for that last bit of heroic comeback...which damn sure would have failed. Why is it always a freakin' Foley too?! And a girl! At least Havoc can be introduced to my sledgehammer at some point, but the girl? I'm a father! I damn sure am not going to put my hands on another man's daughter...besides Steph.

Triple H winks to his increasingly getting annoyed wife as she's ready to go while HBK is still focused on what was done to Danhausen as he's been in his own world this entire time.

HBK: I mean, you could have at least not Pedigreed him face first into the concrete! The kid seems to have an odd fascination with teeth. What if he wants to be a dentist?! Haven't you listened any to Britt Baker?! A dentist can't be a successful if their own teeth are ruined! People already say you ruin wrestling careers, now you want to ruin DENTAL CAREERS?!

Triple H gives HBK a total "What the hell, man?" look before HBK gets distracted and looks past them and offscreen.

HBK: Oh hey! That's Noelle Foley! Mick's little girl! Let's go say hi!

Triple H holds up his hand as Stephanie finally snaps at HBK.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Shawn? Get in the damn car! We'll make another stop at Chick Fil-A before we leave town, I promise!

HBK continues to be in his own world for a moment.

HBK: Weird. Wonder why she's looking all intense and serious in that ca--DID YOU JUST SAY CHICK FIL-A?!

Triple H fights to hold back his laughter as Stephanie just lowers her head, shaking it.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Yes, Shawn.

HBK: MOVE OVER!

HBK nearly bowls Stephanie over as he lunges into the limo in excitement.

Triple H: Might as well call him 'Scooby'.

Triple H walks up to the limo as the driver takes his luggage and puts it in the trunk before running back into place prepared to shut the door once The King of Kings enters. But as Triple H starts to get in, he pauses, looking back toward Noelle's direction. With an amused smirk, he just shakes his head.

Triple H: An Intercontinental Title shot, a Marilyn Manson wannabe, and a Foley with that crazed look in their eye. SGW's next show should be called "That 90s Show". Everything else gets a stupid remake after all.

Getting into the limo, the final look inside is of HBK bouncing around excitedly, talking to Steph about getting a EXTRA Large Coke this time with EXTRA Large Waffle fries and Steph looking like she's contemplating a way to commit justifiable homicide. Triple H falls into the seat as the driver shuts the door behind him and the scene fades.

✠✠✠

Now soaring at a cruising altitude of 33,000 feet, Triple H relaxes in the plush chair of his private plane. Off in a corner, lying on one of the long cushoned benches, HBK is currently napping. A cowboy hat covering his face with his hands laced together on his abdomen, and a Chick Fil-A bag and empty EXTRA Large Cup laid on the floor. For her part, Stephanie sits across from her husband, swiping on a tablet as she seems deep in thought on things. The frown on her face, however, shows that whatever it is? She isn't happy about it.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: This is ridiculous! Here you are, Triple H, the King of Kings! A 12-Man Gold Rush? And look at these names! Jon Moxley, MJF, Danhausen, CM Punk, Nunzio, Christopher Daniels, Steve Corino, Jay Briscoe, Chris Jericho, Keith Lee, Diamond Dallas Page. Most of these guys don't deserve the honor and privilege of stepping in the ring with you! Moxley and Jericho? Sure. Maybe that Briscoe kid since he did put up a heck of a fight. And Keith Lee has his charisma. But the rest? Guys you long ago made grease spots or are Cabbage Patch Kids trying to give their Millennial interpretation of your blue blood persona...and Christopher Daniels.

Stephanie shakes her head in total dismay.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: I don't care if some claim that your past SGW runs weren't the best. It's not exactly like ANYTHING involving the words "past SGW" has exactly been associated with the word "best" for the most part. This, however, is just a travesty and mockery. Does Old Ric actually have any legitimate influence on that Championship Committee? I know we all like to indulge Ric acting like a court jester, but I'm starting to wonder if he's just a joke figurehead at this point.

Having been looking out the window next to his seat while his wife vented, Triple H finally turns back to face her. His expression is indifferent, almost blank before he finally just gains an amused smile and shrugs.

Triple H: It is, what it is.

Stephanie looks at him, absolutely stunned by his words.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: You can't be serious! This is...

Triple H: This is nothing that can be changed in the past.

Triple H's expression darkens immediately.

Triple H: The future, however, is ours to write. And for now?

Triple H shrugs.

Triple H: We'll play along. Plan A didn't work, so we do what we do best. Watch, observe, seek out weaknesses, strategize, maybe even recruit. And when the time is right?

Triple H smirks.

Triple H: We execute Plan B, C, or any other plan that gets us where we want. But most of all? We play them just as much as they think they're playing us. I already know what the argument is going to be. That it's okay to be the Intercontinental Champion for a while. That a master of the game such as myself should remember that there as a time the man who held that title was considered the most essential part of the show. The World Champ brought people to the arena, but it was the Intercontinental Champ who kept their butts in the seats. Being the workhorse meant you were the most reliable guy on the roster.

Triple H looks disgusted as he recites the words he knows are coming, but he calms himself down.

Triple H: And for now? We'll go along with that. This participation trophy mentality they've created. Because it lures them into their comfortable state of complacency. It keeps them nice and distracted while we wait for our opportunity. Because somewhere along the line, it's like people lost their drive to be the best. To be more than just coddled idiots with sycophants. Adam Cole could easily be the best, but he surrounds himself with complete losers. Jimmy Havoc is too busy carving himself up for the approval of Mick Foley. Val? At least he gets it. But he limits himself with his delusion that it was only to save SGW from its past mistakes. And putting his personal ambitions aside, what's the endgame?

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Considering how haphazard and roughshod they run everything? The only plan they seem to have is hope for the best until Daddy Jeff shows up and tells them what to do. Though if he even survives Randy Orton isn't exactly a certainty.

Triple H leans back, smiling, lacing his fingers together.

Triple H: Which is why we wait.

✠✠✠

The Grill.

As far as the stereotypes of American culture are concerned, it's a staple and mandatory requirement for American Dads since the post World War 2 boom. Despite being a pair of Gen-Xers, HBK and Triple H have fully embraced this. Currently they're at HBK's ranch, grilling up steaks, ribs, sausage links, the usual for a Texas BBQ. The kids are off in the house doing whatever it is Millennial kids do nowadays. The wives are amicably chit chatting...which basically amounts to riffing their husbands. Both men are dressed goofily with their big DX chef hats and chef aprons (On sale right now!) as HBK is discussing something of great importance.

HBK: You know that old Nickelodeon show, Salute Your Shorts?

Triple H: ...no?

HBK: Hmm...true we were in our 20s and actively wrestling around the time it was on. Well anyways, it's this early 90s show I've been watching it with the kids on Nickelodeon Classic. You know, to show them the 90s were actually cool. The show's pretty good! But there's one thing that bugs me.

Triple H gets a sense of impending doom as he asks.

Triple H: And that is?

HBK: The counselor guy. His name's Kevin Lee. But they keep calling him 'Ugg' for some reason and it makes him sooo angry! I'm talking like Vince freaking out when someone sneezes in his presence angry!

Triple H pauses as he was in mid-flipping of a steak at Shawn's explanation of his troubles.

Triple H: You're joking right?

HBK: What do you mean?

Triple H sighs. Sometimes the drug addict, always getting into trouble HBK was easier to manage than the current senile Uncle HBK version.

Triple H: Shawn...the guy is named Kevin Lee, right?

HBK: Yeah?

Triple H: And they call him "Ugg?"

HBK: That's what I said!

Triple H: And you don't get it?

HBK: NO!!!

Triple H: Shawn. He's called Ugg...Lee. Think about that for a second.

HBK looks deep in thought, really, really trying hard to understand what's the big deal.

HBK: I mean...Ugg makes him sound like a caveman, while Lee...hey! You better not be acting racist mister! Lee isn't just an Asian name!

Triple H lowers his head, muttering, with a deep breath, he tries again.

Triple H: Shawn! Just use the sound of that nickname and last name together.

HBK: Ugg...Lee? I mean sounds like a caveman name like I sai--

Realization finally comes to HBK.

HBK: OHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

HBK gives a goofy smile.

HBK: That's just silly!

Triple H: That's probably the point, Shawn.

HBK nods as if he understands but it's clear he probably doesn't, but he shrugs and moves along.

HBK: So have you calmed down about this whole angry at it "only" being an Intercontinental Title match thing? I mean at this point in your career, you've won it all! Gold is gold!

Triple H: It's Fool's Gold, Shawn. At least for guys like us. That belt has always been either the way to help build a young, upcoming star who's not quite ready for the top, or a sort of token "thank you" and "one last hurrah" for an older veteran they feel isn't able to carry the load and responsibility of being the top guy. And going by the gray in both of our beards, I think they pretty clearly don't believe me in the first group. So they see me as just some old guy like Nunzio, DDP, Daniels, and Corino. To Edge and Christian this is probably some fun 1990s nostalgia trip like a boy band reunion or them loading up NHL '95 for old times sake.

HBK: Hey! I'll have you know around the drinking...carousing...and other matters I will not discuss now as a born again Christian and family man...that NHL '95 was pretty darn fun mister!

Triple H just shakes his head. Coming up with a new way to approach it, he points to the steaks already on the grill.

Triple H: Think of it this way. They want to serve me a well-done steak instead of medium rare.

HBK looks horrified.

HBK: That's disgusting! No amount of A-1 Sauce could save that! That's asking you to eat a rubber tire.

Triple H: Exactly. I know damn well I deserve the best because I am STILL the best. It's like people want to ignore the years of work I have put in. The World Championships. The groundbreaking matches. I have literally grabbed this industry by the throat and shaped it as I saw fit. Anyone who got IN my way? Got taken out, one way or another.

HBK mutters.

HBK: Including your best friend on a few occasions...

Triple H: What?

HBK: Nothing!

With a look of disbelief, Triple H just shrugs as he flips the steaks over. For his part, HBK moves along and grabs the set of links on the other grill and platters them before tossing on slabs of ribs. Grabbing a pitcher full of BBQ sauce he holds it with a grin.

HBK: My secret sauce. Passed down through the generations by my family!

Triple H: You mean Honey, Brown Sugar, Cinnamon, and four bottles of KC Masterpiece?

HBK: It's Stubb's thank you very much!

Laughing as he watches HBK immediately wince in realization he's blown his cover, Triple H just gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before moving over to help him smother the ribs in sauce.

Triple H: Don't worry, the secret's safe with me.

HBK: You're the best! If Rebecca found out the secret of the sauce...

Triple H: The same Rebecca who does all the grocery shopping and manages the finances?

HBK: Exactly! If she found out what the stuff she buys at the grocery store is for? It'd be a disaster!

HBK's obliviousness has a charm that's almost infectious at times.

Triple H: That's why you can count on me buddy!

HBK gives a big thumbs up as the two go about preparing the rest of the meal.

✠✠✠

Hours later, we find Triple H and Stephanie in the guest house of HBK's ranch. Their children in the main house with HBK's kids, driving "Uncle Shawn" nuts. But hey, it gives Triple H and Stephanie a night to relax and Shawn asked for it. Currently they sit on a couch as Triple H is watching a replay of The Gold Mine.

Tony Schiavone: For the first time in 14 years, SGW will crown a new Intercontinental Champion. 12 men will enter but who leaves as champion? We know Danhausen will enter first and Chris Jericho will enter last. Who has the advantage?

Pausing at the feed, Triple H stares at the image on the screen. A look of resentment on his features.

Triple H: A picture really does tell a thousand words.

Stephanie looks up from her tablet with confusion forming on her features.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: What do you mean?

Triple H: Look at it.

Looking at the image closely, Stephanie tries to figure out what her husband is talking about. Then like any true wife who knows her husbands tics and triggers well, it finally comes to her.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: They reallly do view you like you're some nobody, don't they?

Triple H: Tacked on like some add-on too their little graphic and stuck way at the back like my presence is more an afterthought than a legitimate threat. Clearly they think Jericho and Moxley are going to be the final two.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: And going by that order, they actually think Steve Corino, Christopher Daniels, and even Nunzio is valued as a bigger draw. NUNZIO!

The Billionaire Baroness looks utterly flabbergasted at that last part of her statement.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: I get the guy's a Hall of Famer for SGW, but even for Hall of Famers there's tiers and he certainly isn't on the level of someone like who SHOULD be a Hall of Famer. And Steve Corino? When was he last relevant? The last SGW incarnation which was when George W. Bush was president?

Stephanie gains a look of utter dismay as she just shakes her head. But being the manipulative opportunist that she is, she also decides to seize on the moment to address a growing concern...

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Honey? You know I love Shawn like family...

Triple H: Steph...

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Hear me out. Shawn is like family, not just for you, but for me. The things he did for my family and this business can't be forgotten either. But answer something honestly for me. Your greatest glories as a singles competitor. Were they with Shawn, or were they with me?

Triple H immediately looks angry and hurt.

Triple H: What are you saying? That I'm somehow tossing my WIFE aside for my best friend? You were there with me at the arena! You've been there with me every step of the way since we got together!

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: I know, and that's my point. I'm not saying you're putting Shawn ahead of me. You know better for one...

Stephanie looks to see if she can get a cracking smile from her husband at her half-serious joke, but can tell it isn't registering and she sighs.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Look. What I'm saying is, if you want to be taken serious? As THE GAME? You can't have Shawn along. These D-X Reunions are fun nostalgia trips and everyone smiles and chuckles, but they're just that. Funny, silly little moments for the fans to eat up and for you guys to shill merchandise. But every time you've needed to be serious? To be the asskicker? Shawn couldn't be there. Especially now as he's seemingly starting to slide off into the goofy, weird Old Uncle phase of his life. I hate to say it but...

Triple H: Stop...

Triple H looks at his wife, not with anger, but an actual look of appreciation and he leans in. Gently grasping her hand, he squeezes it in reaffirmation.

Triple H: Nothing and no one, will ever go before you and the girls. NOTHING. Even this business we both love and is in our blood, won't go before you four. And I get what you're saying. It's been in the back of my mind too. That maybe the D-X shenanigans and such will strip away the seriousness and legitimacy of what I'm trying to do. But I won't let that happen. Because when it comes down to it? For all his strange Alice in Wonderland tangents and broken memories from probably too many chair shots? Shawn's got my back. If I tell Shawn he's really got to focus and get serious? He will. And that is something you can't give me not because you don't love me or you aren't serious, but because I won't put my wife, the mother of my children, in harm's way.

Triple H points to the image on the screen of the men in the Gold Rush Match.

Triple H: How many of those guys do you think wouldn't use the opportunity to attack you to somehow get me distracted and eliminate me from the match? I'm pretty much guessing some of them are going to be calling their buddies to help. You know Corino and Jericho will if they can get on the same page about The Origin. You think Briscoe won't call his brother down to the ring if it really gets tough? Even that idiot Daniels might be able to convince his 'Dispute U'...

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Disrespect U.

Triple H: Whatever. Point is? Right now? There's no one in that locker room I can trust to have my back. And while I've had clout in other promotions, it seems I'm not having it here. Probably my own fault due to complacency. But I can't grab anyone to have my back as Arn Anderson and his goons are going crazy. And we both know it doesn't take much for Randy to decide he's done with one fixation and find another. If Jarrett doesn't put him down? What doesn't say Randy decides to come for me next? We don't exactly have a friendly past.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: I don't think Shawn could stand down Randy.

Triple H: No. But Shawn can watch my back when Randy inevitably tries to stab it. He at least can give me the warning to be able to turn around and fight Randy to his face. Hell, we don't even have to look past this match. Like I said earlier. If he isn't distracted by Corino? We both know how much of an annoying but damn devious and talented thorn Chris Jericho can be. Hell that MJF kid is practically salivating for the chance to spike his flag in the middle of the ring and make himself the new top villain of the industry. You think he won't have schemes?

Stephanie sighs as she begrudgingly gives in to her husband's point of view.

Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley: Alright. But...can you get him to work on being more serious and locked in? We both know how perception can skew a lot of things in the world, especially THIS world. D-X only has so much legs until it starts to get stale. I've seen the comments on social media. People are already complaining how SGW's big storylines seem centered around the guys of your generation. One man of your generation being the top focus? That is one thing. A whole gaggle of them? It's a death knell and you know it.

Triple H: Which is why I have to play this long game and maneuver my way to a World Title match. Why I have to be that one guy. Because no one else has the vision that I have. Nobody in my generation has the foresight to get that while someone from my generation should be on the top? They need to also foster the next generation. It's up to me to guide and bring along the MJFs, the Keith Lees, and Jay Briscoes. Because I don't plan to be like Ric Flair. When my time is up to be in the ring? I'll accept it like a man, take a bow, and walk away.

Triple H's expression turns deadly serious as he's clearly having a rare emotional moment.

Triple H: But this isn't that time. I will claw my way back to the top of the mountain. I will take that title out of Val Venis' hands, or Jimmy Havoc's hands or anyone else's. I will find the key guys for the future and manuever them into place to be the next stars and generals. And I will damn sure make certain that when I'm gone? I left this industry in a far better state than I found it. AND that it's left in MY image.

Triple H smirks.

Triple H: That's what a king does, right?

Fade.

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