Takin' The Piss.

[Butcher.]

BUTCHER: Feel like I'm doin' somethin' wrong here.

Butcher, pacing back and forth on camera looks a bit annoyed, like usual. He stops, smoking casually and blowing smoke from his lips slowly. 

BUTCHER: I came here and put up a fight, it's what I do I live for the fight. I'm sure people will look about me and say wrestlin' ain't a brawl in the alleys; Sure, why not, I'll humor you lot a bit. I came in and I told the "Crimson Baroness"--which is very risque of her quite honestly, the LADIES will know what I mean--that I am here to FIGHT! I was there to FIGHT, I'm not here to play lil' games, I'm not here to do these fancy little free-for-all bullocks; I. AM. HERE. TO. FIGHT. It's pretty cut and dry when you think about it. I had her beat, the ref sods it all up, and she got her debut victory against me.

Butcher clenches his jaw slightly, a nonchalant squint of the eyes, and a twirl of his smoking hand, he looks back to the camera.

BUTCHER: I told you lot before, I'm not too keen on losses. It hurts me pride a bit, I did put a lot of bloody work in to get here. I didn't take no easy way out. I've been fighting since I could bloody well hold my drink. And now, they throw me into a FOUR WAY brawl. You put me in a dangerous environment and I'm sure to surprise a lot of you. The three people put in front of me, just stepped into a pile. Because I'm DONE losing. I'm completely done losing. After two shows and having nothing to show for it except for BITTER losses in "close" matches, I think it's about time this charming gentleman right here...? Gets a little mean. 

Maybe I get a little bit rough! MAYBE, just maybe I have to smash a few teeth in to get some recognition. How about that? Of course, that's what I've been trying to do since I joined. Honest I have, but as you can see LDFC so far has some very...lenient rules; I could take a piss faster than some of these referees' counts, that much I can tell you. Maybe this one won't try and screw me out of a victory, hm? Maybe I just gotta beat up whelks. Maybe then, people will see I'm not just a pocket full of sunshine and posies. 

Butcher pauses and thinks for a moment. He puts his cigarette and puts it out on the ground.

BUTCHER: I didn't come to Lion's Den to get my arse handed to me. I didn't come to be background filler, nor did I come to LOSE to people who should be havin' an L in their column. I want to tell you three in this match, and I want it to be clear. I'm comin' for you, all of you. Threat? No. It's a promise. Because it seems that if I want to prove to anybody around here that I belong, I gotta be nasty. People don't like it when you half-arse your beatings. And believe me I am a man with the means to entertain my audience. New Generation, in Gibsonville, North Carolina, I get the pick-me-up that I need. 

Butcher gives a small wink.

BUTCHER: And I'm going to be doing at the expense of you lot. Cheers.

Butcher's smirk fade, then it turns into a solemn expression. You could really see that his experience here in Lion's Den wasn't what he expected. The scene fades slowly, only catching the glimpse of the brick wall behind Butcher. 

Fade To Black.