[FADEIN: Losing the match to Castor Strife for both the NFW World Title and ownership of Castor Strife Productions may have set ERIC DANE back a bit, but far be it for anyone to say that the six extra hours he had to wait in Jacksonville for his own private jet to arrive to replace Strife’s is a far cry from the full-on reboot that some of the slack-jaws seem to be already clamoring for.]
[So, what would any above average member of society do when faced with time to waste in an extra-medium airport in a wrestling hotbed like Jacksonville? If you said “commandeer the Captain’s Lounge to keep yourself away from the locals and shoot a promo for the New Frontier,” then you might just be near the same level as Eric Dane.]
“Castor Strife, despite your recent adjunct into pandering to the masses, you have earned my respect as a man and as a champion.”
[Behind blacked out aviators is the serious face of Eric Dane. There is a bandage covering most of his forehead, and his right eye has swelled mostly closed. Oblivious to it all, a smile sits comfortably on his face.]
ERIC DANE:
You are a man of conviction, and a man who may just go on to far bigger and better things than a cage match with Magnus and almost but not quite pinning Dan Ryan. Personally, it gratifies me to know that I could be the catalyst to your ascent.
[The smile grows into an abomination of a smirk.]
ERIC DANE:
However. Do not for one second think that this is what it looks like when Eric Dane admits defeat. You know it, I know it, and Greg Herpin knows it. Show the footage.
[PICTURE-IN-PICTURE: During the Reloaded main event, after one of the bloodier battles over the NFW Title in recent memory, Eric Dane superplexed the champion onto a folded chair in the center of the ring and then drug himself over the prone body to make the lateral press. Head Referee Greg Herpin was in perfect position and dove in to make the count. His hand slapped the mat once, twice, and then- PAUSE.]
ERIC DANE:
I want you to take a real, real close look at that right there.
[The Only Star points to the PiP, where Herpin’s hand appears to be flush with the mat.]
ERIC DANE:
Nevermind what you saw at Reloaded, and nevermind what you think you know about the end of the match, just look at that camera angle. Herpin’s hand is obviously counting Strife down for a three!
Oh, but then what happened?
[PICTURE-IN-PICTURE: Strife’s shoulder shoots up, ever so slightly, and Herpin pulls his counting hand back up and jabs two fingers high into the air. The PiP pauses again before disappearing.]
ERIC DANE:
What happened is that another referee in the New Frontier has shown his true, nefarious colors! GREG HERPIN SCREWED ME OUT OF THE WORLD TITLE! And I want, no, I DEMAND a rematch, with the Champion, and with Herpin handcuffed to a radiator in a motel room somewhere far, far away from me, the world title belt, and my plans for the future of the New Frontier!
[The Only Star seems to have gotten himself agitated.]
ERIC DANE:
And until I get what I want, I’m going to carve a bloody swath across the New Frontier! I’ve peeled Alex Austin’s face almost clean off, I’ve gouged Castor Strife’s scalp until it squirted quarts, and I’ll bleed every single last one of you all the way up to Eddie Mayfield and Troy Windham and Calvin Carlton and JJ DeVille and EVERYONE ELSE ON THE WAY to my rightful place as the New Frontier heavyweight champion of the World!
Consider this the gauntlet being thrown.
Somebody’s going to bleed at BRAWL, and I don’t care which one of you five-dollar-funboys steps up to answer the challenge. And after that it’ll be somebody else, and after that, somebody else. You people want to go on and on and on and the fuck on about how I connived myself into title contention and I gambled everything and lost and how I don’t belong here.
[He snaps the shades off of his face, cold blue eyes pierce the fourth wall.]
ERIC DANE:
So I invite you. All of you. You think I skipped you in line? Come and take your spot back. Take it back by force like a man. Understand that my net-worth trumps everybody in this place outside of the boardroom and maybe Castor Strife himself, and understand that my agreeing to uphold the deal I made and give him back the keys to his castle in exchange for my world title shot has less to do with my “losing it all” and more to do with my ethics in business.
I’ve been here for just under a year and accomplished more than the rest of you have in a decade of fumblefucking your way through what you call careers. I walked into this hostile territory and I made myself a place at the Grownups Table while you idiots have wasted your time fighting for scraps at the plastic table with multi-colored legs.
Understand me clearly. Eric Dane is Better than You...
[He pauses, letting himself take a couple of calming breaths.]
Eric Dane:
...and I dare anybody on this roster to prove otherwise.
[Fade.]
[So, what would any above average member of society do when faced with time to waste in an extra-medium airport in a wrestling hotbed like Jacksonville? If you said “commandeer the Captain’s Lounge to keep yourself away from the locals and shoot a promo for the New Frontier,” then you might just be near the same level as Eric Dane.]
“Castor Strife, despite your recent adjunct into pandering to the masses, you have earned my respect as a man and as a champion.”
[Behind blacked out aviators is the serious face of Eric Dane. There is a bandage covering most of his forehead, and his right eye has swelled mostly closed. Oblivious to it all, a smile sits comfortably on his face.]
ERIC DANE:
You are a man of conviction, and a man who may just go on to far bigger and better things than a cage match with Magnus and almost but not quite pinning Dan Ryan. Personally, it gratifies me to know that I could be the catalyst to your ascent.
[The smile grows into an abomination of a smirk.]
ERIC DANE:
However. Do not for one second think that this is what it looks like when Eric Dane admits defeat. You know it, I know it, and Greg Herpin knows it. Show the footage.
[PICTURE-IN-PICTURE: During the Reloaded main event, after one of the bloodier battles over the NFW Title in recent memory, Eric Dane superplexed the champion onto a folded chair in the center of the ring and then drug himself over the prone body to make the lateral press. Head Referee Greg Herpin was in perfect position and dove in to make the count. His hand slapped the mat once, twice, and then- PAUSE.]
ERIC DANE:
I want you to take a real, real close look at that right there.
[The Only Star points to the PiP, where Herpin’s hand appears to be flush with the mat.]
ERIC DANE:
Nevermind what you saw at Reloaded, and nevermind what you think you know about the end of the match, just look at that camera angle. Herpin’s hand is obviously counting Strife down for a three!
Oh, but then what happened?
[PICTURE-IN-PICTURE: Strife’s shoulder shoots up, ever so slightly, and Herpin pulls his counting hand back up and jabs two fingers high into the air. The PiP pauses again before disappearing.]
ERIC DANE:
What happened is that another referee in the New Frontier has shown his true, nefarious colors! GREG HERPIN SCREWED ME OUT OF THE WORLD TITLE! And I want, no, I DEMAND a rematch, with the Champion, and with Herpin handcuffed to a radiator in a motel room somewhere far, far away from me, the world title belt, and my plans for the future of the New Frontier!
[The Only Star seems to have gotten himself agitated.]
ERIC DANE:
And until I get what I want, I’m going to carve a bloody swath across the New Frontier! I’ve peeled Alex Austin’s face almost clean off, I’ve gouged Castor Strife’s scalp until it squirted quarts, and I’ll bleed every single last one of you all the way up to Eddie Mayfield and Troy Windham and Calvin Carlton and JJ DeVille and EVERYONE ELSE ON THE WAY to my rightful place as the New Frontier heavyweight champion of the World!
Consider this the gauntlet being thrown.
Somebody’s going to bleed at BRAWL, and I don’t care which one of you five-dollar-funboys steps up to answer the challenge. And after that it’ll be somebody else, and after that, somebody else. You people want to go on and on and on and the fuck on about how I connived myself into title contention and I gambled everything and lost and how I don’t belong here.
[He snaps the shades off of his face, cold blue eyes pierce the fourth wall.]
ERIC DANE:
So I invite you. All of you. You think I skipped you in line? Come and take your spot back. Take it back by force like a man. Understand that my net-worth trumps everybody in this place outside of the boardroom and maybe Castor Strife himself, and understand that my agreeing to uphold the deal I made and give him back the keys to his castle in exchange for my world title shot has less to do with my “losing it all” and more to do with my ethics in business.
I’ve been here for just under a year and accomplished more than the rest of you have in a decade of fumblefucking your way through what you call careers. I walked into this hostile territory and I made myself a place at the Grownups Table while you idiots have wasted your time fighting for scraps at the plastic table with multi-colored legs.
Understand me clearly. Eric Dane is Better than You...
[He pauses, letting himself take a couple of calming breaths.]
Eric Dane:
...and I dare anybody on this roster to prove otherwise.
[Fade.]