Jarel is shown once again sitting in his office, this time kicked back in his seat with his feet on his desk. This isn't exactly the same Dragon that has been shown lately. He's not working on anything, it's not that dark in the room, and he's casually watching the show on a monitor. Finally, he begins to speak.

"You know, it's funny how certain people jump on bandwagons and get their panties in a bunch. It is insanely funny how people in this stupid a** community continually stick their nose where it doesn't belong. There's a saying that goes something like opinions are like assholes: everyone has one and generally shouldn't show it. Especially as I look around here. See, everyone is now pissing and moaning because of an altercation that does not concern them. The boss is bitching, I don't know if his partner is and frankly I don't give a ********. Matt Draven and Claire Hawkins want to put their opinion out there because they're on the bandwagon. Then some b***h calling himself Vaseline Man calls me some kind of great evil in BBW."

Jarel sits up and leans on the desk as he looks into the camera.

"So clearly it's about time for the man behind the Dragon to speak. You're running your mouths about things that do not concern you. Let's be frank. Salem and I met for this contract signing with our hands tied. We could not physically assault each other. Matt, as usual, takes no less than seven shots, showing his preferential treatment. The simple fact of the matter is, Matt wanted to give Salem his first world title, and he did. The obvious fact is, Matt does not want me as champion, hence why he ties my hands at every turn. But the problem everyone has is very simple. I did not jump backwards like a retard when a clearly poisonous snake was thrown in my lap. Oh, everyone's in an uproar because unlike 99% of them, I realized the obvious. If a snake is close to you, especially a predatory snake like the one Salem threw on me, you don't make sudden ******** movements. I'm sorry if the majority of you are too ******** simple and slow to understand that sudden movements like that are what make snakes attack. I guess you've never lived in rural areas and had to deal with them. Sucks for you that I have. I've also been around longer than just about all of you bitching and moaning at the top of your lungs. Frankly, I'm less than impressed."

Jarel flicks the monitor off.

"So allow me to address a few people. Claire and Matt Draven. Funny, but what the actual ******** do you have to do with the situation at hand? Oh, I'm the new Triple H, in your mind? Really? OK, I'll take that role if you really want to put me there. So lets put this s**t in perspective. Triple H buries people, right? He's also a thirteen time world champion, married to a fairly hot chick with like four kids, able to go out and wrestle a good to great match on occasion without killing himself, is head of creative and a big part of signing new folks, and apparently behind the NXT project. I can think of worse people to be compared to. But the funny part is when someone is such a ******** mark they don't actually know what a burial is. See, if I buried people like you say, that would mean I have not only a large amount of respect from my peers, but I actually have the pull to bury them. In order for me to be this grave digger, no pun intended and no references to the actual character Gravedigger, that you've made me out to be, I would need Triple H's level of power in every federation. In other words, I'd have to come into BBW and find Matt's daughter, who would also have to be of age, bang her, then marry her, after working my a** off for the company for roughly six or seven years to earn a top spot, then use that marriage to help me hold the roster down. I'd then have to go to EWA, get real chummy with Chrono, who I generally don't like 75% of the time, take the top spot there. I'd have to force myself in WWE:E, get chummy with whoever runs that b***h, and take that top spot. Lastly, I'd have to go into WWFG, apparently kiss Tim's a** while also, again, being one of Chrono's favorite people, to take the top spot there."

Jarel frowns, shaking his head.

"Oh wait, that's ******** impossible, as I don't get along well enough with any of these people and refuse to kiss their a**. Lets be ******** real, I don't have to come back here or anywhere else if I don't want to. I've done more than enough over the past 16 years. I've held major titles, I've main evented supposed biggest shows of the year. I've seen federations rise and fall. I was around when some of the true greats were in their prime. When this all was actually entertaining. When one punk b***h didn't come and take shots at someone who has clearly done more than them, and has never given them personally a reason to take such shots. I remember a time when it didn't matter if you were a rookie or a veteran. All that mattered was if you had some form of talent, ring knowledge, and basic understanding of the business. I also remember when instead of feeding the bullshit, owners of a federation squashed it. Completely and utterly. If there was a problem between two talents, the owner's job was to settle it. I also remember a time when owners didn't pick ******** favorites."

Jarel gestures around his office.

"See, this office is filled with title belts I've won. I don't technically need another one. I can walk away from whatever obligations I have in BBW, EWA, and WWFG right now, never wrestle another match, and I'm content. Because frankly, unlike some of you, I don't actually give a s**t about the number of titles I win. What I care about is my general enjoyment of this business we've created. People who have the audacity to take shots not knowing where the ******** anything that happened in a situation came from are the reason why so many of the greats left. They don't want to be around such bullshit. They don't need to stick around with people who clearly have nothing better to do than take a shot at someone just because a couple of other people have their panties in a wad. Gang warfare, or what you people think is gang warfare anyway. It's really rather pathetic. I don't give a flying ******** s**t what anyone thinks of me, from Claire hawkins and Matt Draven, all the way up to Matt Shanahan. I completely, and utterly do not care. Because at the end of the day, I'm happy with me. Really, that's all that matters. Not the opinion of people who do dumb s**t like get pushed and then vanish from the face of the earth, or worse yet, get a push but don't do s**t with it."

Jarel's attention is diverted by someone off camera.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm using in the business terms in front of a crowd. I've also said about 20 cuss words dumb a**! There are no ******** given this day or any other really."

the same off camera person says something not discernible to those watching at home.

"Whatever. Some dumbass producer has a problem with truth apparently. Point of the matter is, for the moment, I still have the main event at the coming pay per view in a last ride match with Salem Croft. The sad part is, he's about the only person around here I've managed to maintain a modicum of respect for. The fact is, I could very easily leave my office, walk into Matt Shanahan's office, tell him 32 different ways in which to kill himself as a means of giving the notice that I ******** quit, and walk out. Unfortunately for all the butthurt drama queens in the back, that's not what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay right here, in BBW, walk into the world title match, and give Salem everything he can handle and then some. I will give him no less than my best because at the very least, he deserves that. That is respect, that is the ultimate in respect. Because if it were anyone else, if the situations were reversed and I were the champion while he's the challenger, I could and probably would walk and leave it all behind. But because Salem deserves a challenger who shows up and puts in all the work necessary, I will give him that. So, to wrap this up, I will speak directly to the man I'm challenging for the title, the person that to my knowledge is not pissing and moaning in the back all damn night like several others."

Jarel's eyes lock on the camera again.

"I don't give a damn about anyone else. This match concerns only two people, Salem Croft and Jarel Damone. I don't give a damn about nicknames and monikers, this is about two men, going out there, and going to war in an effort to claim the top title of this company. This isn't about the fact that Matt has an obvious favorite in the match. This isn't about King, Draven, Claire, Vaseline Man, or the people in the tournament. The stipulations on this match were quite clear. Jarel Damone vs Salem Croft in a last ride match for the BBW world title in which no one is allowed to interfere under penalty of being suspended or fired, and the person they aid being stripped of the title. Respect is something you earn. So far, you've earned at least some of mine. Regardless of who comes out with the title, so long as the focus of this match remains the two of us in it, and not the irrelevant opinions of those outside of the situation, the respect will remain. Whether that respect is mutual is not for me to speculate on. So far, I have been shown respect, and I will continue to show you some form of respect. You may have taken my confidence in my winning to be a lack of respect. Nothing could be further from the truth. My act of respect is to make it clear that you are my sole target here. Don't confuse a** kissing with respect. One is generally counter productive. In short, I will see you this Sunday on pay per view as planned. Mind games and backstage politics and bullshit be damned."

with that, Jarel waves the camera guy off and they recede from his office