Debt Collection.

[Butcher.]

"Well...well...well." 

That cocky voice reverberating through the hallway of a bar was known other than the lovable gentlemen, Butcher. A few beers in him, and a bit of arrogance, it was clear that after Welcome to The Serengeti, Butcher was on Cloud 9. There he was dressed in his finest garb (by his small standards anyway) which consisted of a leather jacket he won off of poor Crooked Yanky back home off a game of cards, a gold chain he took from a bloke who owed him money, and a pair of shoes he squandered his cash on because he doesn't like snake boots, eh? There he was, hands pressed on both sides of the wall as he looked into the camera with a crooked smirk. 

BUTCHER: Feels like I got a bloody lot lifted off m'shoulders. You know, y'tend to forget what it feels like to win. I mean I've taken some beatin' in some seedy places, but I've never in me whole life been subjected to such, what is it I'm lookin' for...?

Suddenly it dawned on him in that instant. 

BUTCHER: Oh, that's right, bollocks. After bein' off the program for a short while, all it took was to beat up on some masked boy wanting to play fight to get some attention. And of course, Pedro Gonzales, the young SON OF THE MEXICAN REGIME, that lad's a lil' thick in his skull. DAFT...would be a keen word to describe the lad. What me and my associate--because mate would mean I like'em--DARBY...did to poor Malo was nothin' more than a message. A message you would be right to listen to before you get you and your English slaughtering friend hurt badly. You're still young, your sun hasn't begun to set, but believe you me boys, if you want to see that sunset on your own terms, I suggest you walk away from this one.

Butcher shrugs his shoulders and rolls his neck in the process.  

BUTCHER: But I digress. Why am I worried about small guppies when I've got me some a big fish in this six man tag team match they got me lined up in. Main event even, which just goes to show that when you put ol' Butchie on T.V.'s you make money! The only problem is that they put me in the ring with bloody Bork and Bjork and the manifestation of feminization, hello PRINCE. Two people who I have no interest in, have no quarrels against--except for that bloody ladyboy. How I wouldn't mind mashin'em his SNOUT! But teamwork, we're a team friends! And we got a task of beatin' Nest, the longest reignin' APEX Champion in Lion Den's infantile history, and...BRUTE CAMP...whatever that means.

Butcher scoffs, scratching at his stubble. 

BUTCHER: All I can recall is gettin beat by two names in this match, and I'm lookin' to repay some debts. See, I'm a very vengeful person, I take things to heart. I tend to remember the bad more than the good, because usually there isn't a lot of good to go around where I'm from. Nest and Mannion just so happen to drag a poor lass into this mess. But me? I'm generous at times, because like the gentlemen that I am, I don't believe in lettin' someone get caught in the crossfire. So if Becky is a good girl, she'll not get in the way of me thumpin' those two wankers she's teamin' with. If she's a competent human beings with BRAINS she will not even get involved in this match. Because my dearest dove, if you happen to want to play brave, I an guarantee you that endeavor is a very harsh one. In Charlotte, North Carolina, I'm gonna prove yet again why Lion's Den shouldn't ever remove me from a bloody show again. I'm gonna show I'm BETTER than Nest, I'm better than ANYONE in this bloody company and I'm gonna keep this little conquest goin' Wednesday night. PRIDE...I can say with sheer confidence that me stock will be going up IMMENSELY.

Butcher flashes that crooked smile and a wink. 

BUTCHER: Cheers.

And heads back off to drink more, to celebrate another victory coming this PRIDE. 

THE END.