*Steve Borden was no stranger to playing a little guitar and singing in front of a crowd. At Cicero's back in St. Louis, he'd sat in and played several times. Here at the Purple Turtle, though, rather than playing alongside his romantic interest, he was playing with his so-called little brother for the first time. The two men had sat together and jammed out some music and practiced a few songs together in the privacy of Steve's home studio, but to play in front of a crowd was a brand new experience for Little Naitch. And while he had been excited for the show all day, there was no denying that he felt some twinge of nervousness in the pit of his stomach as the day turned to dusk and the dusk turned to night. It was an interesting pairing -- both men played guitar, and both wanted to sing. They had decided to share the duties, do a couple of songs together and each do some songs of their own. And since it was just a two-man operation at this point in time, the owner of the club hooked them up with a house band to back them up on bass, drums, and even a piano player for one of Steve's songs.*

*There's no sound quite so alluring as a high quality guitar (played by a high quality guitarist) wailing away like nobody's business. That's the sound that rings out in the backstage area with just minutes to go before the show. Steve's trying to push those nervous, near-guilty thoughts and feelings out of his head by keeping his mind and fingers occupied with that beautiful black PRS guitar slung over his shoulder. After a couple minutes, David walks up and taps him on the shoulder.*

David: You about ready to start, bro?

Steve: *shaken out of his guitar-induced trance* Oh.. yeah. Oh fuck yeah, I was born ready! Question is, are YOU ready to go play in front of a crowd for the first time?

David: I guess it doesn’t really matter if I’m ready, the time is here. *he picks up guitar, the black and purple tiger-striped PRS Tremonti Signature model that Steve had given to him for his birthday just 2 short months ago, and slips the strap over his head* Let’s do this thing.

Steve: *he grins* Davey, this is going to be a night you will never EVER forget.

*The small crowd breaks out into a round of applause and cheers as Steve and David walk out to the stage. David seems a little shy and straightforward, walking over to take his place on the left-hand side of the stage (left to the audience, right to the band members). Steve, however, waves a bit to the crowd, walks over to the other house band members and slaps hands with each of them, and then walks back to his microphone stand to address the crowd.*

Steve: Thank you, thank you everybody for coming on out here tonight. I know it may seem a little silly, or like some kind of gimmick for a couple of wrestlers to come out here and start a band and want to call themselves rock stars, but we're glad you guys gave us a chance. Or… at least came out to see what kind of a train wreck we can be. *laughter from Steve and the crowd, while David just nervously smiles and fiddles with the knobs on his guitar* Well, of course, my name is Steve Borden, better known in the wrestling world as Sting. And my friend over here, my running buddy, my fellow Horseman, David Flair, he's a little wonderkid on the guitar. This guy hadn't even picked one up until around a year ago and he's already pretty good… well, you'll see. So, what do you say we just get to it? *The crowd reacts warmly to this idea, as Steve nods over at David* Now, I gotta explain this real quick – we are, most certainly, a work in progress. We're going to get you a mix of cover songs and a couple of our own, try to keep things mixed up a little bit. So, with that in mind, we're gonna start you off with a little something that I'm not entirely sure has hit the radio over here yet, but it's been pretty big in the states. This is by a Canadian band called Evans Blue, and the song is called Cold, But I’m Still Here.

*With one foot up on the amp, Tremonti style, Steve begins to play the opening strands of the song, and sings the majority of the lyrics while David throws in the background vocals and rhythm guitar...*

{ Click to listen/read Cold (But I’m Still Here) }

*The crowd gives a round of applause and whooping cheers as David glances over at Steve with a little smile. Steve shoots the smile back at him and throws up the horns, yelling out across the stage to him.*

Steve: Fuckin right!

*David laughs back at him and nods, while Steve steps back to his guitar rack and sets down the electric in favor of his red acoustic. This was to be Steve’s “solo” song (though he still needed David to play some backup electric), and how apropos that the following song would be played on a guitar with "Montana" branded on the headstock. He takes a seat on a wooden stool and settles in, adjusting the mic stand.*

Steve: This next song is one that's very very personal to me. Let me take you back in time about a year, give you a little story. So last summer, I wasn't too sure where my life was headed. I had been working in the EBWF for about 6 months, but I just didn't really have any direction, with my character or with where my personal life was going. Well, I was playing an open mic show at this club in St. Louis, and I met this girl. Oddly enough, she turned out to be the daughter of one of the members of our board of directors. *laughter from the crowd* Yeah, it was an odd situation, to say the least. Not to mention she's about half my age. But... we did fall for each other and we did have a little relationship for a while. And when I fall, boy, I tell you, I fall hard. But we had some communication issues, trust issues, and she turned out to be a dirty skank. *David shoots him a death glare.* I mean... we... split up... amicably. *he shrugs* So, this is a song I've been working on and it tells a little bit about how I feel about the past year of my life. I haven't decided on a title yet, but it's either going to be called California or Over My Head. Hope you enjoy it.

*He begins to play that same low-note rhythm from earlier in the day outside the hotel, and midway through the song when the instruments pick up, David joins in with the electric to back him up.*

{ Click to listen/read California / Over My Head) }

*As the song comes to an end, Steve hangs his head and closes his eyes. The emotion of the song, his previous year with Montanna and everything that's happened with the Horsemen, and everything else in his professional career all seemed to come crashing into his heart all at once. He stands up and sets the acoustic back up on its stand, then turns around to the mic, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Not only is the emotion of the previous year weighing on his mind, but the emotion of what he's about to do as well.*

Steve: *slightly dejectedly* Yeah... well folks, I'm gonna hand this thing over to David for a minute. Little Naitch, take it away. *he turns and walks off the stage to his left*

David: Well, while that one was Steve's sort of "personal" song, this next one is mine. It's called "Crying Out," and I hope you enjoy it.

{ Click to listen/read Crying Out }

*While David plays and sings away, Steve has walked off the stage and disappeared through the doorway to the backstage area. That internal struggle is still going on inside his head, even in these last few moments before he's about to do what he's been struggling with all week. It's not so much the act itself that's bothering him -- as his Sean O'Haire devil told him, nothing REALLY bad would happen. But it's that spiteful act of betrayal against someone who looks up to him so much. Especially from someone who has made a career-- nay, a life out of always doing "the right thing." But for once, he's decided to do the right thing for himself and himself only, freeing himself from the bonds of the weight that's been holding him down for the past year. He walks back into their dressing room and opens up a cooler, pulling out two bottles of Budweiser. It felt a bit odd for Steve to have to go into a liquor store and see Budweiser as an "import," but that's how he had gotten ahold of some real American beer earlier in the day. He twists the tops off of each bottle, leaving one set on a table and holding the other in his left hand. With his right, he reaches into his pocket for that little bag of Ketamine, and before he has a chance to talk himself out of it, he pulls the baggie open and pours the contents into the beer. He swishes it around a little, mixing it all up, then takes a deep breath as he picks up the other beer and returns to the stage just as David is finishing his song. He walks over and hands David the tainted Bud, and raises his own for a little toast. David gladly takes the beer and clinks his bottle with Steve's before leaning his head back to guzzle about a fourth of the bottle in his first drink.*

Steve's Devil: *appearing on his shoulder yet again* Yeeeaaahhhh, drink that shit bitch!

*Steve glances over at the devil with a sort of "what the hell are you saying?" look.*

Steve's Devil: What? I'm a figment of YOUR imagination, buddy. I keep saying... I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.

*Steve shakes his head again and the devil disappears, as he rears back to guzzle some of his own beer. David seems to be really enjoying his, though, as he continues guzzling it down, putting the bottle about half-down before he sets it on the stool next to him. Steve, looking a bit concerned, walks over to David for a moment.*

Steve: Hey man, you, uh... might want to take it a little easy on the liquid courage, there.

David: *obviously getting caught up in the aura of the evening* Aww, lighten up bro! We're rock stars now, we party, this is what we do!... *his face turned to a look of confusion* Say, when did you grow horns out of your head?

Steve: When did I what?

David: *he blinks* Uh, nothing. I swear I just saw two horns pop out of your head. *he picks up the beer* Maybe you're right about taking it easy on this stuff. *he takes another swig before setting it down again*

Steve: Riiiight... well, you ready to continue?

David: Ready as ever. *he nods* Say, how'd they get that elephant in here?

*Steve knows what's going on -- while Ketamine is normally used as an anasthetic in medical purposes, in its recreational form, it can be a hallucinagen. He hadn't planned on the effects kicking in quite this fast, but whatever gets the job done, right?*

Steve: Ummm... through the front door, I would guess. Somehow. I don't know, let's just play, okay?

David: Whatever you say, moss ban! I mean... boss man!

*Steve shakes his head again and walks back over to his own mic stand. While he is a little concerned, that devilish twinge in his heart tells him that this is the perfect opportunity to put David up on the spot and let him make a huge embarassing failure of himself. He takes the mic again.*

Steve: Well folks, while this boy's voice is nice and hot, I'm going to let him take the reigns on this next song as well. This one's another cover, it's by Theory of a Deadman and it's called Say Goobye.

{ Click to listen/read Say Goodbye }

*David obviously struggled with the majority of the song, but he held it together until the song was over. As they finish off the song and the crowd cheers again, David can tell something is not right. He's lost some feeling in his fingers, he's dizzy, everything seems like it's slowing down around him. He does have the wherewithall to reach down and unattach one end of the guitar strap around him, but once he does, he drops it and lets the guitar fall to the floor. The neck of the axe bounces off the top of the monitor amp in front of David, which emits a high-pitched squeal of feedback that makes everybody in the room cringe. David himself, however, doesn't even hear it as he drops to one knee, looking over at Steve with an almost pleading look.*

David: *barely able to muster up a whisper* Help...

*It was like a slow-motion scene out of a bad movie. From the table near the stage, Megan screams and jumps up, rushing to the edge of the stage as David crumples into a lifeless heap next to his monitor, knocking his mic stand over in the process and nearly hitting Megan right in the head. She ducks it and pushes it away to the floor, reaching her hands up towards David as far as she can reach. With the stage about chest-high, she can only barely reach his cold arm with her fingers. Ric and Hunter are soon to follow; Hunter jumps up onto the stage and crawls over an amp to get to his fallen friend. Steve seems a little less concerned than the others, setting his guitar down and nonchalantly walking over to the scene. When he sees the severity of the injuries, however, he lets out a little gasp.*

Hunter: He's cold. God, he's barely breathing. *shouting* SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!

*The rest of the scene is utter chaos. Ric charges up the stage to sit there next to his son, holding his cold clammy hand. Hunter stays knelt down on his knees trying to get David to wake up. Megan, in her family way, is the emotional one to start crying. Steve simply remains quiet, hanging back, watching the scene unfold. After what feels like an eternity, the ambulance arrives and the medics get David strapped down and into the ambulance. Ric is allowed to ride in the ambulance to the hospital, but Steve, Hunter, and Megan have to drive themselves.*

Steve: *quietly, to Hunter as they walk out the door* Hey, um... How about you just take Megan with you, and I'll drive myself and follow behind you. I'll have to come back later on and get our equipment and everything, and I don't want to be a bother to make you leave later if you want to stick around or whatever.

Hunter: Yeah, whatever man, it's fine. Let's just get going.

Steve: Alright, I'll see you there.

*Steve sits down in his rental car and takes a deep breath. He tries not to totally freak out, but... it's kinda hard not to. He holds it together long enough to follow behind Hunter and make their way down to the hospital. Once everyone has arrived at the emergency room, Ric, Hunter, Megan, and Steve are made to wait out in the waiting room while the doctors do their thing. They all sit there in absolute silence, save for Megan's continued crying. Hunter puts his arm around her and rubs her back as she buries into his chest. After what feels like hours, but was really just 20 minutes or so, one of the doctors walks out to the room to give a report.

Doctor: Mr. Flair?

Ric: *standing up* How is he?

Doctor: Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, he's alive and stable. He did stop breathing for a couple minutes but we got him revived, he's alive, and he's safe. The bad news, he's basically in a coma right now.

Ric: Oh God... *choking up* Can we go see him?

Doctor: They're getting him set up into a room right now, but once they're all set up in there, you'll be free to stay in there as late as you'd like. I have someone else I need to go check on but I'll come let you know when he's ready for visitors.

Ric: *sitting back down* Alright, thanks.

Steve: *takes a deep breath* Hey Ric? I, uh... I'm so-- I just can't go see him that way. I'm gonna go back to the club and get our equipment packed up and everything, and probably just head back to the hotel. Give me a call if he wakes up and I'll head back down here.

Ric: *both men stand up* Alright. *he walks over to give Steve a hug* Everything's going to be fine, please tell me that. We're all going to be a family and we're going to go home in a couple days and everything will be back to normal. Right? Please tell me that.

Steve: *thinks to himself* Great, nothing like a nice big heaping of guilt when you're already stabbing your best friends in the back. ...Yeah. Everything will work out the way it's supposed to, Ric. Whatever's in God's plan. *he pulls away from the hug* I, um... I didn't want it to be in these particular circumstances, but I have a little surprise for you tomorrow night at the show. So if you don't come to the arena, make sure you're at least watching it on TV here tomorrow, ok?

Ric: Well this really isn't the time for surprises, but, uh... sure. I doubt I'll make it out to the arena but I'll watch.

Steve: Okay. *he motions over towards Hunter and Megan* I'll see you guys later. *he quietly turns and walks out*

Hunter: Okay, that was really weird. Why is he acting like he barely cares about David?

Ric: You know how emotional he is. *sitting back down* And how he likes to hide when bad things happen. He's always hiding behind that mask. I think he has some real psychological problems, personally, but, that's just between me, you guys, and the empty chairs in this room.

Hunter: Well, you're not the only one who thinks that way. Sometimes I wonder why I still associate myself with him...

*Meanwhile, Steve has gone back outside and sat down in his car. He pulls out of the parking lot and finds his way back to the highway to head back to the club, and as he drives, pulls out his cell phone. He flips through his contacts and finds the man he needs to report to.*

Steve: Hey... it's done. It went a little farther than I wanted to, but it's done.

Sunday, May 28 – Judgment Day

*With the previous day's events behind him, for now, Steve Borden spends the majority of the day at the arena. He wanders around, up and down the halls, into some abandoned rooms, all in character. Yes, he had gotten into his Sting facepaint and clothes early on in the afternoon and spent all day long wearing it. And as showtime draws near, he takes a little trip up some stairs and settles into a nice little hiding spot up in the rafters..... A while later, as the show is on the air, a pre-taped video appears up on the video screen. It's Sting's face, a side-profile.*

Sting: The face of the EBWF has been changing drastically in recent months. Wes Ikeda is now sole president. Ric Flair is gone. CM Punk and Raven are back. It seems like every time you turn around, something new is happening. And tonight is no different. *he turns his head, and the lights behind him change. The left side of his face is hidden in the shadows, and a blue and purple hue is cast over the other half of his face... which has no paint* Tonight, another face changes. The EBWF, and the Four Horsemen, will NEVER be the same. IIIIIIIIIIIIIT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!

*The screen fades out to black with his white scorpion logo, and one last time, he descends from the rafters to a loud ovation from his loyal fans. As he descends, his music (Watch Your Words by Alter Bridge) plays. He can't help but wonder how many of these people will still be on his side after he says what he has to say, but he takes in the ovation, for what it's worth. He unhooks himself from the harness and steps up onto the turnbuckle, pointing his bat out towards the crowd but never losing the stone cold look on his face. He makes a motion back towards the back to cut his music, to which they comply. He pulls a microphone out of his trenchcoat pocket and begins to speak.*

Sting: *he takes a deep breath* Well, well, well... one more time, Judgment Day is upon us. And tonight, it's Judgment Day for the Four Horsemen. You see, for the last year or so, I've been running up and down these streets with three other men, claiming us to be the Four Horsemen. *his tone turned to one of contempt* What you DON'T see behind the scenes is how Ric Flair wakes up at 5 in the morning to walk down to the gas station and get a cup of coffee, a donut, and a newspaper. What you don't see is how pussy-whipped Triple H has become, being an expectant daddy and husband. And while the news has probably hit the internet, the rest of you don't see how David Flair passed out at our concert last night and is now sitting up in a hospital in a coma after drinking half a beer! Is this what the Four Horsemen are all about? Ric Flair, in your autobiography, you said that the Horsemen were not a gimmick, they were a lifestyle. When I convinced you to come to the EBWF last year and revive the group that you had let lie dormant for well over 5 years, I did so with that in mind. Let me let you in on a little secret, Ric. I've always been jealous of you, because you, back in the day, back in the NWA, were cool. I had the surfer thing, I've been the crow, but I've never just been a straight up cool, slick ladies man type like you were with the original Horsemen. That's what I wanted, and that's why I got you to come back. I wasn't banking on you being more Ben-Gay-rubbin' and promo-flubbin' than jet-flyin' and limousine-ridin'. Ric Flair, ever since we started this thing, you've been the antithesis of everything you ever stood for as a Horseman. And I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and watch you let the legacy that I marked out for 20 years ago crumble around your feet. The truth of the matter is, Flair, you really don't have it anymore. You complain that everyone comes out and attacks your age, calls you an old man -- it's the fucking truth! And while age really is nothing but a number, and I do firmly believe that, the number you act is way too high for a Horseman. *some of the fans begin to boo at him, and a small but vocal chant of "Backstabber! Backstabber!" can be heard* A backstabber? You people think I'M the backstabber? I'm not stabbing anybody in the back here. What I'm doing is liberating myself from the shackles of a bond with people who have forgotten what we're supposed to be! If anything, Ric Flair stabbed ME in the back by coming back with the assumption that we were going to be what the Horsemen have always been, and in reality, sitting back and being lazy and letting everything fall down around him. We can't even BE the Four Horsemen anymore because you lost that match at Wrestlemania! Ric, you had ONE match to win to keep your career and keep the Horsemen alive, and you couldn't do it. You lost every ounce of credibility you could have. And even after you lost that match, what did you do?? You were offered a managerial contract, but have you taken advantage of that? No, you'd rather sit at home and sulk about losing to Wes Ikeda. Let me tell you something -- Wes Ikeda, I fucking love you, man. You beating Ric into retirement, it was an eye-opener. It showed me what I should have been seeing all along -- that Ric Flair really can't hang in this business anymore. So Wes, you really did me a favor there. Thank you.

*Some of the fans start to buzz at the idea of a possible newfound alliance of sorts.*

Sting: So I can't be in the Four Horsemen with a retired geriatric, a game who's been played into weakness, and a boy who told me last week that he didn't even WANT to be in this thing! That's right, David Flair, before he went into this coma, he laid it on me last Monday night after costing me my match against Kane, that he never really wanted to be a part of the Horsemen! He took the spot because it was offered. Now you tell me, ladies and gentlemen, who's the worse person here? Someone who's offered a spot in the most prestigious, the most respected group in all of pro wrestling history, and goes into it with a half-assed effort and ultimately helps to destroy them because of his apathy? Or the man who takes out that man for the good of what he believes in? That's right, you heard me, I didn't stutter. That coma that David Flair is in right now? *he points to himself* I did that. I do confess, it wasn't supposed to go that far. He was supposed to get a little silly, act a fool like Scott Stapp in Chicago in 2002, and the public backlash would take him down. So Ric, I hope you're listening cause I told you to last night, but, uh... *he shrugs* I guess I'm kinda sorry for putting your son into a drug-induced coma. But how appropriate! How appropriate that David Flair would drink half a beer laced with an anasthetic drug, and over-react to the point of going into a coma? David's always been a drama queen, and I guess this weekend is no different, am I right?

*The fans' reaction is mixed, at best. The beauty of the wrestling fan in 2006 is that people aren't sheep, they don't cheer the faces and boo the heels like they did in the 80's. Some people like the heels. Some people identify with a bad-ass, which explains why the original NWO was so popular. And in this British crowd, we have some people who cheer for Sting because they're long-time loyal Sting fans, some who cheer for him simply because they, too, are sick of David Flair, and some who boo him for the traditional face/heel association.*

Sting: Well Ric, even though you've abandoned me the way you have, I'm about to do you a favor. I'm not going to just sit back and let the Horsemen die. Ric, I'm going to revive your legacy! Since you seem so hell-bent on letting it fall apart, I'm not going to allow that to happen. If you can't do it, I will. Ric, Hunter, and David are no longer members of the Four Horsemen. This is MY group now. And Ric, there's not a damn thing you can do about it, because you're... como se dice... RETIRED! So, ladies and gentlemen, direct your attention to curtain number 1, and allow me to introduce to you, your BRAND NEW Four Horsemen! First up, a young man from South Carolina, a proud Golden Gopher wrestler from the University of Minnesota, and a man who can walk into the EBWF and immediately lay claim to the throne of "most athletic wrestler on the roster,"... Shelton Benjamin!

*The classic Four Horsemen music plays, as Shelton Benjamin makes his way down the ramp in a pair of blue and black wrestling trunks. It's obvious by the way he's carrying himself that he's ready for action -- and that attitude will help shape the tone of the evening. He takes a leap off the ring steps and jumps up onto the apron, holding onto the ring post, as he does in his normal WWE match entrances. He then hops up over the top rope and walks up to give Sting a quick hug before stepping up onto the turnbuckle and taking in that same mixed crowd reaction.*

Sting: I guess we've gone from Little Naitch to the Little Stinger, eh? Well, our next member isn't quite so flamboyant, but he's definitely athletic and can definitely get the job done. No incarnation of the Four Horsemen would be complete without an enforcer, and that's who this man is. He's made a name for himself in ROH and some other various indy feds, and now he's come to legitimize his career by dominating the EBWF landscape in much the same fashion as he has everywhere else. Who ever said big men couldn't be athletic? Ladies and Gentlemen, your enforcer, Samoa Joe!

*The Horsemen music begins again, and out from the entrance walks the big man, Samoa Joe. He, as well, comes to the ring dressed to fight, in his light-blue and black trunks, his large ball choker around his neck, and a towel adorned with dried blood draped over his shoulders. Joe is a man with a no-nonsense attitude, and it shows in the sneer on his face as he walks to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope. He gives Sting a handshake, then slaps hands with Shelton as well, then turns and stands behind and to the right of Sting with his arms folded across his chest.*

Sting: This man don't take no shit from anybody, folks, and if you've never had the pleasure of watching him wrestle, you're in for a treat. NOW! This third man should be rather familiar to most of you EBWF fans, and to most of the boys in the back as well. He's a long-time member of the EBWF, someone I even feuded with in my early EBWF weeks. He's a mutliple time EBWF Champion, holding pretty much every belt you could ever imagine. This is YOUR Grand Slam Champion and your newest member of the Four Horsemen... Shane Helms!

*That same Horsemen music plays one more time, as Shane Helms makes his way down to the ring wearing his purple and black trunks and the silver half-vest-half-jacket that he wears, sunglasses over his eyes and the badass Helms chinstrap beard. He makes his way into the ring and stands on the turnbuckle to salute those in the crowd who cheer for his return. He turns and greets his new teammates with with good ol' "guy" style fist bumps.*

Sting: And while the Four Horsemen are evolving into something new... I'm evolving as well. *he turns toward Joe, who tosses the towel over to him* The Stinger that you all know and love, is no more. *he takes off the trenchcoat to reveal a vintage IV Horsemen t-shirt from the 80's and a pair of black jeans* From here on out... *he unfolds the towel and buries his face in it. When he emerges, the paint has been wiped off, and the man finally emerges from the mask he's been hiding behind for so many months*

Steve: ...you can just call me Steve Borden. And with Shane Helms, Samoa Joe, and Shelton Benjamin by my side, well... *he looks down the line at Shelton* There ain't no stoppin us now!

*The four men take stand in a line, side by side, and take each others' hands, raising them into the air. Joe gives an angry looking snarl, Shane and Shelton just look cocky and cool, and Steve has a smile on his face bigger than he's smiled in a long, long time. For the first time in months, he feels free. The Horsemen music starts up one last time as the men exit the ring and walk up the ramp. They're met at the top of the ramp by Josh Mathews, who begins talking as the music dies out.*

Josh Mathews: Sting, Sting... or, uh, Steve, I guess it is now. What a moment in your career, but I have to say, I believe... that's not wise.

Steve: What's not wise, Josh, is staying in a situation that's bringing you down, personally, professionally, and psychologically. What's not wise is watching one of your best friends let everything he ever stood for fall apart around him. *he scratches his temple with his middle finger* But I thought we covered this all in the ring?

Josh Mathews: Well speaking of "in the ring," you have a five-man match tonight against Super Dragon, Kurt Angle, Chris Sabin, and Randy Orton. Any thoughts on this match?

Steve: Some guy nobody's ever heard of, an Olympic zero, an x-division jobber, and a guy who spends too much time crapping in people's gym bags to pay any attention to how sloppy and dangerous he is in the ring. Face it, none of these guys even hold a candle to what I can do in the ring. And let me say this, by the way. Wes Ikeda, or whoever's back there booking these matches, this is two pay-per-views in a row that I've been thrown into some worthless curtain jerker multiple-jobber match. And quite frankly, the idea of me being in this match tonight is a straight-up insult. But maybe I just needed to do something to get myself some attention and stir things up a bit. So Wes, and that booking committee up there, I hope you're watching and I hope you're paying attention. Cause the face of the EBWF is changing, the face of the Stinger is changing, and the face of the Four Horsemen is most definitely changing. And it's a change for the better. Those pieces of junk in that mini-battle royal tonight, they're just the first in a series of victims. The EBWF is going to stand up and take notice of Steve Borden, once and for all. And that's all I have to say. Now if you'll excuse me, my friends and I have a little business to attend to...

*Steve glanced around at his new friends / teammates, and gave them each a sly grin before brushing past Josh Mathews and walking back up out the entrance, his entourage in tow. Today truly is a momentous day in the career of Steve Borden. But only time will tell whether, as Josh Mathews so eloquently asked, this move is, indeed, wise.*

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