{{He proved to Sean Anderson that he was just who he said he was. A very psychotic person. Powerbombing Anderson off the scaffold through barbed wire, Desogan had thought would make Sean think twice about messing with The Depressed One again. But in thinking that, he was wrong. Anderson has made a challenge again to the Extreme Champion. A Lion's Den match. On top of that, he's got this person by the name of Refused to "worry" about.}} Our scene is fairly similar to the one that we last saw Jared in. The surroundings are slightly similar, yet slightly different. The floor is much cleaner than the last area, and it is a tad more lighted. However, there are still some broken pipes, and a couple of rats scurrying across looking for things that workers may have dropped. The cameraman, unfortunately the same as last, looks around for his interview opportunity, but then thinks about it and goes to the same spot as the last time. There we see Jared chewing on some beef jerky with a small Looney Tunes(R) Band-aid(TM) on his finger. The other gashes that were donned during the Circus Death Match are left open, some still bleeding. Upon looking at the intricately large scars, one could consider it artwork... .:*Jared Desogan*:. {Refused...a befitting name for one so feeble in skills. Refused had a chance at the World Title. I'm surprised that he outlasted Shock, but nonetheless, he got his ass kicked didn't he? Kind of how I felt. In fifth grade, little Jared was walking on his way to the lunch room when, yep, you guessed it, larger-than-me Jerry Spiliotti decided to toy around with me. I remember being caught in that terribly small hallway between a rock - Jerry, and a hard place - the opposite wall. Being tossed proverbially from pillar to post, kind of hurt my little defenseless body. Locker to locker, time after time until I began wondering whether I'd get thrown so hard I'd actually get a peek inside one of the lockers. Jerry put me in a headlock and demanded that I give him my money...no wait, not just my money, he asked for my entire wallet. My wallet, the little fake leather one that contained on that day my Student ID, Seven Dollars and twenty-eight cents, and pictures of my family. I had my mom, my dad, and my younger twin siblings. Also in that wallet, I had a list of what I was going to do, and to whom I'd be doing them to. Jerry I remember was number one on my list. When I said no, and punched him in his solar plexus, giving him probably a little more than a startle, he ran with my head still tucked firmly under his arm, like a football, and rammed me into locker number 23. Oddly enough, that was my locker. Before slumping out of my last few conscious moments, I felt that the fact that it was my locker was a small victory. I smiled at this thought back at Spiliotti. It remains a lot to be said though afterwards. The nurse checking on my battered back, a pack of ice strapped to my head and the school president asking what the bloody hell happened, it was more than a little stressful. I didn't see my wallet again.}   {Refused, your words make me laugh. Not as much as Sean Anderson's, but they nonetheless make me laugh...which is a rare, and sometimes dangerous thing. And given my mental condition, that's not something that can be considered good. I barely squeaked by Anderson? Granted, it wasn't a total squash, but I damn sure didn't just squeak by. You think that all your bumps should be taken pity upon? You got all of those things for the simple reason that you plain out suck. You have no talent, you have no idea of what kind of world you will step into with me.}   Desogan finishes off the package of jerky that was in his hand, and pulls out some string cheese. From another pocket, he pulls out another package of beef jerky. Combining the two tastes together, he munches away, obviously a little hungry. The cameraman, unknowing to the audience, looks longingly at the food in Jared's hand. Noticing this, Desogan moves to give the man a piece of beef, but then pulls his hand back in disgust.   *Jared Desogan*: {Why the hell should I feed you, Mr. Getting Paid for Each interview. You've got it a lot easier than I do. What is it that you do? Walk around with a camera and look through the lens to listen to people rant about upcoming opponents? Whereas we're doing the talking, the fighting, the ones taking the beatings. It reminds me of Refused's words. I didn't just push someone off a scaffold. I took myself down with him, driving his back through barbed wire and into the floor. But Refused, it goes so much deeper than that. I had to go through not just the wrestler named Hex, I didn't Just have to fight my way down the scaffold, and back up again. I had to go through around 17 plus years of torture, torment, and teasing. I had to go through SEVENTEEN PLUS YEARS of beatings, hell, and pain. SEVENTEEN PLUS YEARS of facing people who spit in my face, people who degraded me, and people who threw gooey slimey CRAP at me. So that's what I had to go through Refused...and just as Sean Anderson found out, you will suffer the same Depression at the hands of this maniacal madman. I already have gotten what's coming to me. I've become a superstar that could kick any of my old enemies asses given the time and day. Refused, you underestimate me, which is always a bad thing to do in any case, involving any person.}   {And now...the trivial matter of Sean Anderson. Sean, you ask another encounter with the one who has already beaten you. Obviously, having your back impaled, turned into a human pincushion wasn't enough. And now, you want to face me in Ken Shamrock's home, the Lion's Den. Not only that, but with weapons of the martial arts hung on the cage. How cute. Really Sean, what do you hope to accomplish? You know that since I defeated you before, after being spit on by your friend, I can surely dismantle you again. I do accept your challenge. But what say we up the ante a little? Just drop a top over the cage to prevent any sudden drops from the ceiling. If you want to truly face me, then you must agree to have ZERO interference. One on one between you and me. The Lion's Den Weapons Match, with a top. You want the top to be made of something? Name it. I don't care. I accept your challenge, on behalf of all the trod upon of the world. I accept on behalf of those that the people disregard. You will again feel Depression. The belt will not come home.}   {Refused has a case on his hands. One that he won't likely solve without a few bumps along the way. The Extreme title will stay in my possession until I believe that there is someone who can actually pose a threat to me. I fight with the anger contained of many years' worth of evil. There's a chance that I could snap at any second, and just take my frustrations of the world out on you. Leave now. I'm still not going to feed you, you overpaid swine of a piece of s***.}   {{Jared finishes his string cheese, and pulls the last piece of Jerky from the package. As the cameraman backs off slowly, thinking to get a good shot, a rat moves in towards Jared's place. The cameraman (activated again by that mechanism that is the same in the PIss-My-Pants Cameraman) now begins to run off as Desogan is heard sayiing, "Here...you deserve this more than the other scum..."}}