We fade in on Freak, slouched in a chair, almost melted into it, head tilted downwards, hands hanging from the arm rests. The camera pans back, revealing lockers behind him, indicating his location. He rubs at his chin, pondering something. "A week ago, at our PPV, WWFG's Place Your Bets, me and my tag team partner, Brantley Summer, where put in a TLC match," He said, not looking at anything in particular "May I add, we had no prior knowledge of this addition to the match. Because, Freak runs his hand through his hair, "Had we known this before, we wouldn't have los-" He stops to correct himself, "Wouldn't have been cheated out of our victory,"
"But you see, me and Mr. Summers know that in the grand scheme of things, we are the real winners. Because while Matt Draven is crying himself to sleep, and Joey Desch is pawning his belt off to support his crack addiction, me and Brantley are in the bars, knocking back drinks, driving fast cars, and going home none the worse," Freak snorted, rubbing at his nose a bit."And thats what happened, like winners, after partying, banging some chicks at the bar, we both went back to our respective homes,"
"Flash forward, a few days later.. A get a call, from a doctor" Freak pauses, appearing to tear up a bit... Although it looked incredibly forced, "And I discover, that Brantley had fallen ill," He sinks into his chair a bit... He tilts his head back, appearing to be thinking... Wild eyed, he springs forward from his seat "...WINNERS DON'T GET HEPATITIS!" He stops himself again, trying to calm himself down...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Freak closes his eyes, and begins breathing in and out to relax, "Aaaah..." He opens his eyes back up, "And while I wish my friend all the best in his illness, I am still a Marauder, and I gotta move on.. And sick partner or not, I have a rematch clause.. Leaving me in a bit of a bind," Freak smiles a bit "So I spoke with the board of directors, and we reached a compromise..,"
"Cyrus Leone, buddy... You've got something I want," Fade to black
