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...And There was Dean Johnson. He was shown sitting in a black chair, a slender black table up and visible in the frame. In the background was black drape, a cute little light was on a back table, table plant accompanying it. Very...Netflix Documentary. Johnson was looking healthy, despite the enormous amount of scars he carried. He still was in fantastic shape despite his year off of wrestling. The marks knew he was under contract, so it was no real surprise he was there. But for the dwindling casual audience there was a pop in the arena. They've only heard form him in dirt sheets and the like ever since last WrestleMania. A true Mania Man.

"I don't want to drink it." He said calm and flatly. There were light unaudible whispers as the camera zoomed in and out of focus and recentered on them.

"I understand the contract but I don't know why I'm here, we know what this poison does....Yes poison...You want me to drink poison for money"

Chatter filled the empty spaces as a PA walked into screen to whisper into his ear. Dean sighed, then nodded. Obligations, His whole career marked obligations. And this was no different. The PA scattered off.

The camera focused again as a little clip board bangy bangy thingy came out and clacky clacky'd.

"I am Dean Johnson and today we are trying Bisonaide."

Dean looked coldly into the camera then down at the neon colored drink. It sat in a clear highball style glass. He grabbed it and took a nice solid chug. Not like a gentle sip on a simmering summer night. More like if it was a crisp blue ribbon balancing out the woody smoke of a brisket (Big meat).

His face did not match the beauty of this description though as it winced. You could see the liquid get swallowed down, adams apple wallowing in activity. His lips smacked. He knew that this drink was the reason why his kid developed cancer. He knew the research showing it was a flawed and mass marketed false health drink that was making already ill people more ill. But hey, it was just a sip.

"This is not good."

He stroked his jaw as he looked plainly into the camera, smacking his lips.

Another camera cut, this time coming on in a familiar locker room. A cauldron is shown and behind it stands Lykos, stirring something inside. The door opens and a crew member steps in, handing over a bottle of the Bisonade that seems to be the subject of the night.

"This is what he used to talk about so much? Does he still use this?" Lykos questions.

"It's still on sale."

Lykos didn't much care for that answer. "Before I go mixing this into what I've already got brewing, perhaps I should try it myself."

The Dark Wolf elects to take a drink, but quickly spits it all over the crew member.

"What in the name of the Lady is this? People drink this? This is what the reigning WWFG Intercontinental champion peddles as something helpful or at least edible? It tastes like despair and mediocrity.. Get this out of here!"

Lykos tosses the bottle right at the crew member's head, quite satisfied with the thud it makes against his skull. Then the number one contender turns to his cauldron, dipping a fresh cup into it and drinking his own concoction before he turns to the camera.

"Don't get it twisted. I just made myself a protein shake here. While I'm sure the idea of a mystical potion would bewitch the masses, I'm a practical man. I was considering adding the Bisonade to it but clearly, I'm better off without it. See, tonight, whether he likes it or not, we're going out to the ring and he's putting his title on the line. Then I'm going to proceed to plant my boot solidly in his face for the audacity of being a conman with that horrible drink, and worse yet, a false idol of a champion. I don't need to spin you all a tale of some background bullshit going on for months. My tale, my story, is very simple."

Lykos pauses for another drink.

"I don't have some sob story of trying and failing twice to beat him. We don't have some long drawn out history. The story is simply that after placing second in the Royal Rumble, I won the Elimination Chamber and the right to challenge for the title. That's it. But if you want to sprinkle a little razzle dazzle on it, the champion is a guy named after livestock. The challenger is a guy named after a predator. Bison may not normally be in wolves palate, but tonight, they're conventiently located and the wolf is hungry. I'm walking out of Wrestlemania with his title and hopefully ending his brand deal with whoever made that crap."

Lykos looks over at the crew member.

"Dear gods, why are you still here. Go call poison control. Anyone drinking that is going to need it."

Lykos walks off, drinking his own protein shake.

The camera pans to Mason his scowl showing his disdain.

Mason: I'm not gonna drink it. Ya I buy it but I don't drink it. Quite frankly no body should drink it. From the terrible after taste all the way down to the terrible artificial preservatives and bullshit fake dyes. It's definitely a disappointment in the drink game.

Mason reaches down pulling break pads and the wheel hubs to a motorcycle out and sitting them down on the table to show.

Mason: it's not a useless product by any means though. I buy it by the 50 gallon drum! Around the garage this s**t is a life saver plus it's affordable for parts cleaner as the real deal is a bit more pricey. The flavors also get rid of that terrible solvent smell watch this guys this will blow your mind!

Mason takes the brakes and hub and dips them in a giant sink filled with Bisonaide. 5 minutes pass before The Rider pulls them out again. Upon leaving the liquid all the rust and grime has been removed almost completely save for a few of the larger nicks and dents.

Mason: This stuff works wonders for these things but if it can break down rust and oxydization then you really shouldn't put this inside you plus it's gives me the shits. Anyway get out of here.

Mason shoes the cameraman off before slamming the door in his face.