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The scene opens up in the front office of Rage Wrestling Alliance. There are tons of people wandering around the hallways in a hustle, trying to make deadlines, or looking to sign the next big thing. As people rush in and out of the hallway, there is something that is slightly slow. He walks down the hallway very casually, like he has no care in the world. This guy is a farely tall man, but is built like a rock. He is wearing a Mimia University Football shirt, with some black baggy pants. His chest sticks out, and he isn't puffing it out. It looks like it was chisseled out of granit, as well as his abs. His biceps are so big that they almost tear through his sleeves. He has some Oakley sunglasses on over his short black hair. He walks up to the front counter of RWA's front office. He leans on the table, and looks down at the young lady that is sitting behind the desk. She finishes typing, and looks up. She gets this look of disbelief and shock. She quickly searches through her desk, and gets out a pen and paper, and hands it to the man without any hesitation.

Man: Who might I be making this out to?

Uhhh...oh! You can make it out to Felicia.

Man: Ok...Felicia.

He signs the paper, and hands it to the lady. She looks at it, almost drooling, then looks up at the man.

Felicia: Thank you Mr. Steele, I'm a BIG fan of yours. Ever since you were playing football down at West High!

Steele: Thanks, but I have to get going, I'm here to see Mr. Storm.

Felicia: Oh...I'm sorry, he's away in a meeting right now, you're going to have to wait.

Steele: I think he can make room for me. Just tell him that Trent Steele is here, and I'm sure he can tell whoever he's in a meeting with to wait. I'm sure he'll put them on hold.

Felicia looks at Steele astonished, but she follows Trent's request. She fumbles around as she interupts the meeting. Storm sounds pretty pissed off, but when she mentions that Trent Steele is here, he immediatly tells Steele to come in. Steele walks past the desk, and back through a long hallway. There are two doors, one of them reads Vice President Phoenix, and the other, President Storm. Steele looks into the office of the Vice President, and then walks into Storm's office. Storm is sitting at the desk, and is all full of smiles when Steele enters the room.

Storm: Ahh, Trent, come sit down. It's good to see you here, and I'm glad you've considered my offer. So how have you been, would you like something to drink?

Steele: Ok Storm, I'm not here to be all fluffy bunny and crap, I'm here for business. I've decided to come into the wrestling business, because my manager is an idiot. You were my second choice, so lets get down to business. I'm here to sign my contract.

Storm: You will soon enough, I'm just waiting for the right time. Don't worry about that. I just called you here today to see how you could do with a promo...and get your name out there. I want you to have some type of debut before I end up putting you out into the ring. So what do you say...lets have it.

Steele ponders over the idea for a minute, then decides he will do it. He walks over to a corner of Storm's office, and looks out of the window, to see the georgious view of the city. He turns around, and looks like he is ready to begin.

Steele: Well, it looks like the RWA finally has a true athelete. It looks the RWA has gained somebody who is actually truley famous. The RWA finally picked up Trent Steele. See, I'm coming to the RWA, because I've been looking at the roster, and it looks like there are a bunch of punks that need to be smacked around. There are a bunch of people on this roster that like to talk sh*t, but can't back it up. I've been looking through the ranks, and I sure as hell am not impressed. I mean, when you come from a background like I have...very little impresses you. I was the LeBron James of football. In fact, I was supposed to go into the NFL right out of high school, being the first ever to do so, but I decided that my education was better. But back on subject...I've been looking down the ranks of the RWA, and all I see are a bunch of b*tches that couldn't stay more than three minutes in a match with me!

Well, lets start with the RWA's fearless Vice President and World Champion...Phoenix. Gee! I wonder how the VICE PRESIDENT got the World Champion. It wouldn't be that he is the vice president, and could book matches like that...oh no, it couldnt' be. Well, I tend to believe different. I see this man, and the only phrase that comes to mind is "abuse of power." There is no reason that a staff member should hold a title in this business. It just looks bad...not only on the person, but on the fed too. But hey, what am I saying, he probably could have won this title fair and square, looking at the talent that the RWA holds.

Next we have the ALMIGHTY "Prime Time." This kid is the Intercontinental Champion?!?! I don't believe this. All this kid is, is a cheap rip off of Dion Sanders. I mean...you remember Dion Sanders right? One of the best cornerbacks in the history of the NFL. Murdock, you are putting that nick name to shame. I can't even believe you would call yourself that. Yeah you can hold the IC Championship...but what does that really mean. I mean, you've only had that title for 3 days!! Son, you aren't crap!!! You call yourself Prime Time, but what prime time have you really known. Have you ever won a Heisman Trophy? Have you ever won a National Championship? Murdock, that is true primetime. If you want true prime time, you should come talk to me, I'll break your face, and wish you never even knew what prime time was!

Now, as we go down the list, we see that the talent just keeps on declining. Now, we have the Atlantic champion, Mr. Champ? More like Mr. Chump. Why the hell would you name yourself Mr. Champ, when you can't even hold a REAL championship? I mean, no gold means anything unless it's the IC or the World Title. You can't truly call yourself a champ, because you haven't felt what it's like to be a champion, hell, you got beat by that LOSER Big Nasty! You don't know what it's like to be the best ever! Son, you should think about changing your name, because you can never live up to your name you have right now.

Now, we have the crappiest of all titles...the Hardcore Title! The Soul Reaver holds this one. Of all the people in this fed that I would respect, it would be you Reaver, but you have just dipped so low. What happened to you? You used to own this fed, but now you have sunk so low as to become the Hardcore champion. This title means absolutely nothing...I mean, it's not even a real belt. All it is is an entertainment belt. No one really takes that belt seriously...unless your name is prime time, or Mr. Champ, then you can have this belt all you want...but you Reaver...you are different. You should be on the top right now, but I guess that you are just a prime example that the fed has just died off. If you and Kali Kidd aren't on top, then the fed just isn't right...that is until I step on the scene. I'll make my way up through the ranks, and I'll do what I have to do to get to the top, but I'm going to bring a true athelete into this business, and I'm going to show all of you what a real athelete competes like. After I take over this fed, there won't be anything left to do but just sit back, adn watch me pin anyone and everyone that comes in my way!!!

Trent looks around, and down toward Storm who looks impressed. Steele walks up to the desk...but instead of stopping to talk to Storm again, he grabs a piece of candy off of his desk, and walks out the door. The scene cuts showing Storms face...a very unforgetable face!