Welcome to Gaia! ::

Not long after the end of the first match, the Titantron comes to life with the image of a steel chair, set up on the side of the rode. Behind it, a long dead field can be seen, the yellow remainders of what was once green stretching off into the oncoming darkness. The video jostles around a bit, but settles into position. Jimmy Monera, clad in dark blue jeans, a red flannel coat, and knit wool cap. He looks almost nothing like the dazzling messenger of God that he's portrayed on so many nights.

"I'd like to say hello to all the people in the WWF audience who should be seeing this video about now. I'm sorry I couldn't get in to work in time to have a match, but it's been a tough few weeks, and I've had other things on my plate. For those of you looking for an update, it's been two weeks since my wife recovered from our little incident on the last show... And three since the last time I've seen her."

He takes a pause, as lights flashing across him and a loud boom of staticky noise indicate that he's waiting for a few cars to go by.

"When she woke up, I wasn't there to see her. Which turns out to be a huge mistake. Because the first visitors she had were various members of her family. And somehow, they've put her under the belief that her relationship with me is a toxic one, and that our marriage... Our marriage should be ended. One stupid incident, one admittedly terrifying event that has never happened to us before, and they're trying to convince her to divorce me, and abandon everything we've built over the last year. Only a few weeks shy of our first anniversary, and I'm already being threatened with the possibility of divorce."

He stops for a second, not to let a car pass, but to get his composure. his voice has been cracking over the last several sentences, and he does what he can to choke it back.

"My love for Nathalie Monera is not toxic. It's as pure and authentic as my love for Jesus Christ, it always has been, and it always will be. Our marriage is not poisonous for her... But as I've recently figured out, something else was. The only way our angel dust could have possibly harmed her like that is if somebody tampered with it. And when I think seriously about it, there's only one culprit that could possibly be responsible."

He leans forward, glaring directly into the camera. "I'm talking to you, Angel. The only person with a two year long grudge against me. The only person who has a history of deliberately harming her, and on two separate occasions, no less. I know it was you. Whatever you did, I may never know, but it was you. I don't need proof. But I want a confession. It's the least of what you owe me, so when I get to the arena later, there'd better one waiting for me. I should make it there in about an hour... Find an opening to go out to the ring, and confess your vicious crime to the entire world. Tell me the truth... Tell her the truth... And we'll just see how forgiving a mood it puts me in."

He pauses for a second, thinking about whether or not he should say anything else. Seemingly satisfied, he reaches over and turns off the camera. With that, the titantron once again goes blank.

(Angel... Respond either here, or in a new thread, and I'll post Jimmy's arrival.))

Finally, only about 45 minutes after the airing of his video package, Jimmy Monera steps out into view, without any fanfare. He's wearing the same unflattering street clothes that he'd put on for his video package, and without even bothering to go through the usual gestures, he makes his way down the ramp, not taking his eyes off of Angel for a moment. He cimbs into the ring, microphone in hand, and takes a position near the opposite side of the ring from him.

"I blew through a couple of red lights and broke the speed limit several times to get here earlier than I said, and I hope you appreciate the effort. I haven't seen your response to my inquiry, since I was on the road at the time... Genius... But I did have a nice little conversation with sound guy Dave on the way in here. He says you're accusing me of keeping my wife doped up all the time, which is funny, because he also says you trailed off mid-sentence about 20 minutes ago. I don't know, that sounds like drug induced behavior to me, so let's cut right to the chase. What did you do to Nathalie? What did you do, why did you do it, and how do you expect me to respond to it?"

Jimmy Monera pauses for a moment, fully absorbing Angel's little rant against him. Finally, he raises his microphone, forcing a smile. "You know, I would very much love to beat your a** into the ground right now for calling my wife a... What was it, two dollar crack ho? But, um... I think I would have a lot more fun just standing back and watching the backlash against you. Because... Well, let's face it, you just called one of the only black women in the history of this company a crack ho."

He points to the audience. "They're going to roast you alive for that, and I'm going to make damn sure I get to witness every minute of it. But for right now, let's just wade past all of your superfluous bullshit. I called you out here for one reason, and one reason only. I want you to tell me what you did to taint our Angel Dust. I don't care what you think of me as a wrestler, I don't care what you think of her as a person, and I don't want to hear any lies about things going on in the filthy locker rooms that you wouldn't have been around to witness in the first place. Give me your confession, and nothing else, before I put you out of this company for another two years."

((Sorry I disappeared... I've had other writing projects going on.))

Jimmy switches his microphone to his left hand, planting the right one in his pocket. He turns slightly sideways, facing away from his archenemy's face. He closes his eyes, and clenches his jaw to keep it from shaking, in an attempt to hide the growing rage that his frustration had given birth to. He speaks as calmly as he can, but his obviously shakey voice is giving him away.

"You know, I didn't want this to end in violence. I thought you'd be able to show me some humility, and own up to what you'd done. Instead, you just stand there spouting lie after lie, accusing me of giving my wife drugs, and insinuating that she's dragged me down. But you know what? Maybe you really are innocent. I probably should apologize. So here goes.

He drops the mike, and in one swift motion, he pulls a thin 30 inch chain out of his pocket, swinging his arm in an attempt to whip Angel across the face with it. If it works, or even if Angel blocks it, he'll try to use the distraction to tckle him to the ground.

Jimmy looked shocked as his swing went wide, missing it's intended target almost completely. The tackle takes him right off of his feet, planting him directly onto the mat, knocking the wind(And a few living daylights) out of him.

Now that his head is finally clear, he's able to see Angel pinning only his right arm down. Taking advantage of this, he attempts to slug him in the face with his left arm. If it works, he'll free his right arm, pounce on him from behind, and attempt to wrap the chain tightly around his neck.