�Hey-a �Rabbit Fans! I suppose you�re wondering why I�m here, right? I means... at the beginning like this, with no real body, no reason... just darkness, and voices, all hellicious-like... it�s like watching a shopping channel with the contrast turned right down, haha! Well, no... y�see, this is a cool, hip, modern thing like how Dracey does it... He thinks it�s scary. Ooooooooh, are you scared yet? See, he doesn�t like people to know nothing �bout what�s going on when he starts a promo, oh no!, he likes the whole... what was it called?.... disembodieded voice thingymabob. Personally speaking, �cos that�s how I like to speak, The Jackrabbit prefers to keep his body... I reckons it�ll give me an advantage come Uprisening... but each to their own, I won�t knock Dracey�s way. Knock him over, maybe even drop him on his head, but never knock his way. Dracey�s disembodieded voice likes to think it�s me... it likes to play being Jackrabbity. Of course, it�s not very good at it... I always did say, there�s only one me. Tal says that�s a good thing, I�m not so sure. I think lots of Jackrabbits could be mighty fun. We can play together, we could even invade En-El-Dub with different sentence symbols on us. Question Mark Rabbit, Explamanation Rabbit, Dot Rabbit... it�d be fun! But y�know what, Dracey? I�ll tell yous. My disembodieded voice can play pretend to. I�m going to play at being Dracey! Ready, set... MY LIFE IS OVER, I WISH I WAS DEADED! KILL ME NOW BEFORE I SHOOT YOUS! Aha ha haaaa!� A yellow Fiat Cinquecento pulls into the driveway, its tires screeching on the tarmac as it rolls into a parked position. The concrete stretches forwards to the building it belongs to, an average looking semi-detached house on an average looking street. Shielded on both sides by tall hedges around the front lawn, the car sits snugly in front of the open garage, which bares no items of value to steal but makes for an ideal vehicle entrance to the building. From the car first steps its driver, Stevie Sol, still clad in the suit and yellow tie attire that he wore upon freeing the prisoner from his cell. Stevie looks tired; seemingly he has been driving now for a while. On his right, The Jackrabbit clambers, almost falling, from the other side of the vehicle, fumbling his NLW Tag Team Championship belt from the ground. Unlike his colleague, the pro wrestler looks perfectly refreshed and in good spirits, despite his beaten down attire and hygiene as a result of his extended imprisonment. STEVIE SOL: �Well, this is it, �Rabbit... welcome to my abode!� THE JACKRABBIT: �Your whatsit?� STEVIE SOL: �My abode...� THE JACKRABBIT: �Your hoo-ha?� STEVIE SOL: �My..� THE JACKRABBIT: �Doo-hickey?� STEVIE SOL: �My home!! Damnit, man, keep up...� THE JACKRABBIT: �This is your home, Stevieo? You shoulda said so!� STEVIE SOL: �It�s not much, I know. We�ll rest up, pack some things, and find some place for you to go before Uprising on Sunday.� THE JACKRABBIT: �Friday.� STEVIE SOL: �What about Friday?� THE JACKRABBIT: �Uprisening is on Fridays now, Stevieo. Keep up!� STEVIE SOL: �Okay okay, Sunday, Friday, whatever... this wrestling thing is new to me, man. Until I got involved in your case, the most I knew about wrestling was that Nacho Libre thing Jack Black did, alright?� THE JACKRABBIT: �Ohhhh, well I does like nachos, but I�m not a libra. Well that�s okay, Stevieo, I�ll take you through it one step at a time so you don�t get confuzzled... like I�m gonna do with Dracey at Uprisening.� Stevie laughs; The Jackrabbit decides to join in, and laughs also. Stevie leads his guest through the garage, and into the house. The pair are on the lower level of Stevie�s house. Though the scene is not a mess, it is unloved, belongings strewn in places that could be deemed �tidy,� not polished or cared for, but placed neatly nonetheless. These belongings are rarely furnishings or decoration, but practical objects that Stevie clearly considers necessary for living. In particular, an array of gadgets and electrical appliances make up the bulk of Stevie Sol�s possessions. STEVIE SOL: �Haha, alright �Rabbit. Either way, man, we�ll pick up what you�ll need and head North... we should hit Denver in time for Uprising if we�re fast. This change of schedule has thrown things off a bit, and your passport is being held by the guys back at-� THE JACKRABBIT: �Oh Stevieo, you worrys too much! And what is this... passed-port nonsense? Stevieo, we�re not passing no ports, we�re going to Uprisening by car, silly you! Oooh, nice toys...� Much to Stevie Sol�s chagrin, The Jackrabbit has found his way into the former�s photography case, sending hundred dollar digital cameras and multiple memory cards scuttling across the living room. Stevie rushes in from the hall, trying to tug the equipment away from the unfortunately-stronger wrestler. The Jackrabbit holds on, and the camera�s display flashes up a picture of a woman. Attractive and lithe, the dark-haired beauty stares up from the photo, her lifeless eyes dark and piercing. THE JACKRABBIT: �Oooooh, who�s�is girly?� STEVIE SOL: �Hey, gimme that! That�s mine...� The two tussle, and perhaps willingly The Jackrabbit gives up the camera to Stevie. Sol looks down at the woman in the display, and a brief look of discomfort crosses his features before he tosses the camera back into the case. He looks up at The Jackrabbit, the wrestler peering at him silently through those dark shades, then shakes his head and forces a laugh. STEVIE SOL: �Don�t give up on a dream, man... got that?� THE JACKRABBIT: �Oh, I tries not to Stevieo... but y�know, sometimes it just happens. Waking up in the middle of a dream, I�ll be there, snoring away, all zzzzzzzzzzzz, zzzzzzzzzzzz, zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...� STEVIE SOL: �Did you just make z noises...?� THE JACKRABBIT: �Of course! Then BAM!... I wakes up, and without even meaning to, I�ve given up on-� STEVIE SOL: {interrupting} �I mean... a vision, man. Don�t call it quits, you never know when life will get turned upside down...� Stevie looks across at the photography case once more before pulling it closed... he looks back to The Jackrabbit, to find him standing on his head. STEVIE SOL: �What in the...� THE JACKRABBIT: �You never know when life will get turned upside down...� STEVIE SOL: �Oh sit back down, you fool. Sometimes I�m beginning to wonder what I�ve gotten myself into with you...� THE JACKRABBIT: �Oh, I can �splain that! You see, you came to my Hut of Hardcore all �I must watch over you, Jackrabbit!� �cos I�d been misbehaving and Sully thinked I was a threat to real peoples... then you was all �You need help, Jackrabbit!� and so you takes me to see the good doctor at the nice hopsital place, then...� The Jackrabbit finally drops back down to a seated position, barely noticing the absolutely perplexed look on Stevie Sol�s face now. STEVIE SOL: �Good doctor? Nice hospital?!� THE JACKRABBIT: �Oh yes, they gave me ice-cream there!� STEVIE SOL: �Oh man, I give up!� And the suited man stands up looking more baffled now than ever before, pointedly forcing the photography case back into its position under his DVD-player. He begins to walk back towards the hallway, stopping only to glance back to The Unorthodox One, who is now seemingly practicing leap-frogs over an armchair. STEVIE SOL: �Come on, we�re going upstairs...� A �man-cave.� The only real way to explain the room The Jackrabbit is now being introduced into, and in which Stevie Sol, for the first time since meeting his companion, seems truly relaxed. Around them are numerous blinking monitors, each with a different display, each connected to computer systems of varying shapes and sizes, and many with peculiar security programs running on them. Every desk and drawer and shelf in this room is filled with something office-like, most of which pertaining in some way to the computers and peripherals that make up the strange scene. Stevie Sol takes his place in a rotating leather chair, his hands immediately moving to the nearest keyboard to check certain data on certain programs. The Jackrabbit, for his part, looks around the cramped room, a little stunned at all the whirring electronics and flashing screens in this private den of Stevie Sol�s. THE JACKRABBIT: �Ooooh, what�s all this?� The Jackrabbit leans in to the nearest screen, a laptop computer displaying a black and blue command prompt with various digits flashing hurriedly down the program window. A curious hand makes for the mouse wheel, but Stevie Sol reaches off and quickly, pointedly, slams down the laptop lid. STEVIE SOL: �Work stuff... don�t touch that shit, man, it�s important.� THE JACKRABBIT: �Important like a Fusion match, or important like a �I�m-the-boss-so-I-thinks-I�m-important-but-actually-Explicit-Content-make-me-look-like-a-silly-person� important?� STEVIE SOL: �Shiiit, could you say that again three-times fast? No �Rabbit, actually important like there�s data on there connecting hundreds of people and dozens of organisations... this stuff makes and breaks links with-...� And, not entirely to his surprise, Stevie Sol realises that The Jackrabbit is no longer paying attention, but is rather intrigued by a blinking LED on one of the monitor towers. He half-chuckles under his breath, turning his attention back to a seemingly important program running on one of his primary monitors. He waves an arm in The Jackrabbit�s direction. STEVIE SOL: ��Rabbit, go take a shower... you could really use one, man.... first door on the left out of this room, I�ll pack you up some stuff while you�re in there, a�ight?� The wrestler just nods like an obedient puppy, still not entirely finished his business with the pesky LED. Eventually he manages to drag himself out of Stevie�s man-cave, and with only the minor difficulty of distinguishing left from right, he finds his way to the bathroom to freshen up. The water sprays down from above, the camera taking in every individual drop as it cascades to the white ceramic below. The water swirls strangely around this new blank canvas, eventually finding its release, its escape, in the brass plughole at the foot of the taps. This miniature whirlpool goes on and on, repeated and reinvigorated by the new-coming of every single droplet. The camera comes now to a bare set of feet, overgrown toenails on each toe, hair on the muscled legs above. The camera pans up now, thankfully hovering around and so missing the undesirable body parts of this well toned individual. The Jackrabbit is seen enjoying his impromptu shower, clad in nothing at all except his dark sunshades, and being apparently oblivious to the fact he is scrubbing down his chest with conditioner. He laughs happily to himself, the noise of which becomes a throaty gurgle as he inhales an unintentional amount of soapy water. Slowly, he addresses the camera. THE JACKRABBIT: �Howdy, �Rabbit Fans!� Apparently it is quite normal to share showers with a global audience. THE JACKRABBIT: �I do hopes you didn�t catch me singing... �cos I was singing in the rain, just singing in the rain, t�was a gloriousness feeeeeeling, I was haaaaapppy again... hahaha! Don�t worry, I�m just playing, kids! But you knows what, somethink there was very true... this here Jackrabbit is truly really especially happy again! Don�t get me wrong, �cos I�m right, the ice-cream in that hopsital place was lovely and all, I�m a big fan of vanilla, but I did get everso bored in there. And all the prodding and the poking and prodoking and all the questions into my mind did get a little.... kooky, haha! I�m a bit glad that Stevieo decided to make The Jackrabbit... that�s me!... be free again, �cos now I can really concentrate on good ol� Dracey. That�s one thing I can always especially rely on Dracey for, y�know... I knows he�s concentrated on our match at Uprisening, I knows he�s concentrated on me. hahaha! Dracey doesn�t forget things like that, not like some people in En-El-Dub... Dracey sets himself goals and he goes and tries to make �em happen. Unfortunamately, Dracey�s goals right now are to become The Felix... he got all a bit worked up about choking, bless �im. Well, lucky for Dracey, Your Friendly Neighborhood Jackrabbit has some advice. Get fat. It�s a no-brainer really; and everybody knows The Jackrabbit is a master of no-brainers. See, Dracey, Felix is big and round, and you�re all small and stick-like... so you�re never really gonna be like Felix. But that�s where The Jackrabbit comes in... see, Dracey, I can make you just like Felix... two Uprisenings ago, this little Jackrabbit pinned Felix one, three, nine. Well Dracey, just like Felix, this little Jackrabbit is gonna pin you one, three, nine, as well! Snap! Aaaaahhaha! But it�s not all funs and games though, is it Dracey? Oh no, Dracey made a nasty mean comment that really cut deep, don�tchya know? Dracey said that The Jackrabbit is a few fries short of a Happy Meal. You�re wrong, goshdarnit, Dracey! This Jackrabbit is a full Happy Meal, and I dares you to prove me wrong! The truth is, Dracey, you isn�t the first person to be thinking that The Jackrabbit can�t functionism with other peoples. Stevieo and the good doctor decided to put me in that hopsital �cos of it, but just like them, you will realise just how good I am at... uhm... fuctionisming? I�ll functionism real well with you Dracey, when I�m hiptossing you around the ring and dropping you head-first with lotsa Standing Jokes... I�ll functionism perfectly with you when I�m advancing in this Gold Russian to face Tal one-on-one-on-one-one for a shot at the finals... But what about you, Dracey? What about you, mewonders? Hahaha! No amount of sharp eggs will help you when you�re back to welcoming the new guys and losing title belts... you know what�s they say when they�re saying things, Dracey... to make some sharp omelettes, you gotsa break some sharp eggs, aarhhahahah! You can tries all you wants to understand me, Dracey... but all you really did was cut a long ranting promo in stupid speaks with words and sentemances that nobody understoods. What type of idiot would do such a thing, Dracey? Well you, Helliciousness One, you did it. You may not understand the mysteries of Scooby Doo... uh, sorry, mysteries of The Jackrabbit, Dracey, but understand this; while you�re running around with some girly who�s probsably gonna fall in love with you who�s probsably gonna be a vampire who�s probsably gonna kill someone who�s probsably gonna be also in love with you which�s probsably gonna make you so miserable that you�re probsably going to carve more silly words on yourself... while you�re doing all that, I�m preparing. I�m preparing by running away from mad-people hopsitals, driving in yellow cars and taking nice long showers in strange men�s houses... you can�t compare to training like this, Dracey. So things are a little rough, Dracey... you talk about how The Jackrabbit never changes, but you�re in the same messes you was in Tee-Ay-Dub... you�re in the same messes you was in Gee-Dub-Oh and Eye-See-Dub-Ef... and now you�re miserable and depressed in En-El-Dub. But we�re chums, Dracey, so The Jackrabbit has some more good advice for ya. Cheer up, goth! Laugh a little! Hahahaha! Dracey, after I beat you at Uprisening and take that spot in the Gold Russian tournament, all you�ll have left is to go back to your silly romances with that fantasy animal of yours... well that is, assuming Aphy will take you back! Aaaahahahahahaaaaaa! You know what that was, Dracey... let me tell you, for old time�s sake... you�ve heard it once, you�ve heard it twice, hear it for a fifth time, Dracey... that was the sound of me, The Jackrabbit, getting The... Last... Laugh! Ahahahaaaaaaaaaa!!� As if on cue, The Jackrabbit�s insane, gurgled laughter is interrupted by an intense knocking on the bathroom door, and he looks at it curiously. He tilts his head, puzzled. The knocking continues, and over the sound of the splashing water drops, Stevie Sol�s voice is heard from behind the door. STEVIE SOL: �Shit, get outta there, �Rabbit! Fuck, they tracked us, man! They fucking tracked us!� Not entirely sure as to what�s going on, The Jackrabbit stumbles clumsily out of the shower, nearly pulling down the shower curtain with him. He somehow manages to push across the lock, and immediately the door flies open. Stevie Sol is stood there, his suit and tie dishevelled, his baseball cap forgotten somewhere in his den. He pauses, if only for a moment, at the sight of an undressed six-and-a-half foot pro-wrestler in only shades. STEVIE SOL: �Dude...� Hastily, he throws the nearest towel, a bright marigold one, over The Jackrabbit, who looks somewhat taken with the unexpected gift. THE JACKRABBIT: �Ooooh, for me... you shouldn�t have...� STEVIE SOL: �Stop assin� around, man, we gotta go! They�re here... damnit, he fuckin� found us, how the hell... right, I�ll grab what I packed, we�re gonna have to dash for it...� A black Ford Focus pulls up onto the sidewalk, paying no mind to the stray dog that only fleetingly escapes its tyres. The passenger door swings open, and Doctor Libor Radnik steps out, clad as always in his white overcoat, wrapped around him as though this were the middle of winter. Radnik does not look amused as he studies the semi-detached building, briskly he begins to walk up the driveway, casting a fleeting glance at the yellow Cinquecento parked neatly in front of him. With a satisfied smirk, the doctor approaches the front door, glancing back to check his security are close at hand. Only too late does Libor hear the engine start up, and only too late does he notice the Fiat Cinquecento reverse haphazardly down the driveway, pulling out sharply onto the road. DR. RADNIK: �No, no! Stop them, stop that car!� The doctor runs back to his Focus, but it is too late. Cursing loudly, the doctor realises the garage entrance that had been unseen to him on his first approach. Hurriedly he leaps into his seat, his security team doing the same, but he knows they have been too slow this time. By now, Stevie Sol has already set the satnav to Denver, Colorada. By now, The Jackrabbit is already on his way to a Gold Rush match against �The Hellacious One� Draco. No matter, he assures himself. Time will be no consideration once he catches up to them again.