[Cameras fade in from commercial to another crummy home video tape filmed from the house show in Poughkeepsie, NY. This time, we see the curtain from the backstage point of view. The thick, black curtain parts and Harvey Danger struts through, belt over shoulder, big grin on his face. Some of the wrestlers' girlfriends have attended the show and stand to one side chatting in a group, and Harvey points and says hello. They roll their eyes and walk off, laughing. Harvey feels the sting every normal guy that every went to highschool has ever felt, yet he shakes it off, and continues to walk on. He comes upon a group of his fellow superstars and raises his hand waiting for a high five, but again he is laughed at and rejected. His smile falls as Harvey is dejected, looking like a man who just lost his best friend. He hangs his head and his eyes drop to his feet. His belt falls foward and he catches it, letting it hang to the floor. Walking on, he drags the belt, shoulders slumped. He rubs his forehead with his free hand, and he stops at the catering table. All that remains is a Dunkin Donuts box and an empty water pitcher. His mood brightens a little as he reaches for the box and rips it open, only to be shot down again as he angrily tosses the empty box to the floor. He slowly slinks towards the locker room and quietly opens the door. Some other WWC wrestlers move out of his way, chuckling and mocking him. He holds his belt up and stares at it for awhile.]
HARVEY: You know, I had no respect before I started. I had no respect after I had won a few matches. I had no respect after I've been seen in a few promotions around the country. I've gotten no respect since winning this title. This... belt... this hunk of leather and gold... means that I am champion. Champion! I am the WWC Television Champion... and noone still respects me. Noone likes me. Noone even puts up with me. I am the black sheep, the new kid in school, the outcast. What must I do for people to understand? ...To accept me?
[Harvey sits down slowly on the bench and carefully places the belt beside him. He bends over and slowly unties his boots.]
HARVEY: I'm just as good, if not better, than the rest of these guys. I'm going to prove it at Nothing Sacred. I will prove it to you all. Whoever is still listening... if anyone is even listening. I mean, I'm in my hometown. The historic Hudson Valley... and NOBODY CARES! Ok, so maybe I do have a FEW fans. That was evident tonight. I proved that to you! Didn't I! DIDN'T I!! Aaahhh just who am I kidding? Myself, I suppose.
[As Harvey was speaking, he had pulled on his jogging shoes and was shoving things into his gym bag. Standing up, he shrugs into his leather jacket, grabs his Title Belt and kicks the door open with his foot. Walking down the hall, he heads for the wrestler's entrance.]
HARVEY: Ericho, Nigel and Uncle Fester, and that guy who thinks he belongs on ABC between 5 o'clock and and 10... what's his name? Primetime something? They'll see... they, and I guess the whole world, will see who gets the last laugh as I advance in the tournement to earn my spot in the elimination chamber. Then, there in the chamber will I become the next WWC Champion.
[Harvey opens the door and fans have already gathered on the street corner awaiting autographs. Harvey is stopped by a little kid around the age of 8, wearing a sideways baseball hat, pen and paper in hand, and a WWC t-shirt.]
KID: Harvey! Harvey! Lemme get your autograph!
[Harvey approaches the kid with a big grin, finally happy to see someone appreciate him.]
HARVEY: Anything for one of my fans! Who did you come to see tonight, kid?
KID: You! Your my favoritest wrestler in the whole world!
[Harvey's smile widens like never before, but slowly crumbles as the camera pans to the child's father. It is once again the fat bald man who sat ringside and taunted Harvey.]
FATHER: Don't get too excited, he's said that to the past five guys that came out here. Go home you worthless trash...
[The man grabs the autograph from Harvey, grabs his son by the shoulder and they turn and leave. Harvey looks almost like he could cry. He shivers and pulls his jacket collar up around his neck. Picking up his bags, he smiles at the few fans still interested and walks on toward the parking lot. Head hanging, Harvey walks off slowly.]
HARVEY: This, like every other match is very important. I need to prove I'm not a fluke. A fluke would be that Echo, who thinks his being in a somewhat decent tag team would result in this new, illustrious singles run. We shall see about that. Having a good partner helps, especially when you have him to back you up all the time. Sadly, you don't have him to fall back on this week. Let's just see how you handle facing three other opponents without your buddy to have your back. Let's see how you handle that. I've gone my whole life without anyone having my back, and I will tell you, it's not easy. And Nigel, Nigel, Nigel... I feel like we're almost good old friends now. But, I said almost. I could make a Micheal Jackson crack, but I'm not in the mood right now. Actually, it might make me feel a little bit better. Here's a modified MJ joke, just for you. How do you know what time is bed time at Nigel Peacock's house? Give up? When the big hand touches the little hand. [He chuckles a bit] Primetime? Well, it's HIGH-TIME you get to 'steppin,' as they say in some parts around the country. Personally, I prefer get going. Or move it or lose it, a-hole. My dad used that one alot. All three of you shouldn't bother showing up, though. It would save you the embarressment in the locker room when all of the wrestlers that hate me make fun of you for losing to me. Go ahead and laugh, but I know that's what will happen. Hell, I don't even have to be out of earshot for them to crack jokes... So save yourself the shame and don't show up.
[As he says this he somehow once again crosses his tormentor and his son. The man shouts out "YOU SHOULDN'T BOTHER SHOWING UP!" and walks off laughing, again.]
HARVEY: Why doesn't anyone see? Echo, Miss Nigel, Noontime... things will change. I will get my respect. You just sit and wait. Just wait.
[Danger turns away from the camera and walks away. The camera gets covered by a hand as the cameraman mumbles 'how do you turn this friggin thing off?'. Camera then cuts to static, then black.]
