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The scene opens to a gym in New York City. John Irons can be seen working out as he is dead lifting weights. It appears he has a great deal of weight on his shoulders as he barely struggles to lift the weight above his head. He keeps it there for a few seconds and then drops it to the ground.

John: nine hundred and seventy five pounds. Only one thousand and twenty five to go for a ton. This is a point that I am proving. Iím lifting more than two and a half times my own weight, which means that I can easily put Jaymz over the top rope with ease. Iím wanting to prove several points today, the first being that some people are dismissing the fact that Iím either A.) not in this match, or B.) wonít stand a chance or longer than just a minute. Now let me make sure I get this straight. Iím seven and a half feet tall, I weigh three hundred and seventy five pounds, and I can lift more than two and a half times my own weight, and people are making claims that Iíll be one of the first eliminated in this match? Hmm. I see. Once again the famous line and quote: What the hell are they smoking and where can I get some? That must either be some potent shit theyíre smoking or itís laced with some heavy, heavy stuff. Either way Iím proving my point, donít count this big man out just yet. You see, a lot of the guys here like to talk the crap, which is fine by me cause I can talk crap right back. You have a personal vendetta against me because you either lost to me, or lost with me? Fine. Donít bitch and complain about it, settle the matter in the ring like the rest of us. Either way Iím walking away this Monday the victor. And you wanna know why? Because this man just proved that no one is safe in that ring. I can shove Big Ugly out, or even the weakest link with ease. But thatís to say that I just made myself target numero uno. By proving a point to all involved in this match, I am the most dangerous to all involved. Because of my size and weight, I become easily grounded. Others like Sin will go over the rope so fast youíd think lightning just struck. But Iím not here to bullshit anyone. Iím here to clarify some issues.

First Pain. Now this dreadlocked joker has it in for me because what? I lost a match against Fang and Rex Butler? Iíve already stated that I donít work well with others, what more do you want? Heís going to be gunning for me to make a silly attempt to screw me out of my title shot again. I donít think so. This guyís Ďperfect recordí is tarnished with one loss with the big man. Well boo friggin hoo ya bum! Shit happens, get over it. You donít see me whining and complaining and crying like a bitch because Iím not ranked do ya? Didnít think so. I stick it to the man and prove people wrong. You donít think that I stand a chance and wonít win this thing, then Iím going to prove you wrong. Like Blitz Bomber you take losing to a whole new level. And speaking of the shaven headed door knob. Heís gunning for me as well. Heís still upset that Ďol Henry Ironsí beat him a long time ago and seeks revenge. Gimme a friggin break already.

But the sun doesnít rise without Blitzí say so. The moon doesnít disappear without Blitz telling it to! Chuck Norris is scared of Blitz Bomber! When the dark and the things that go bump in the night get scared itís because of Blitz Bomber. When ĎGodí kills people itís only because Blitz allows him to. Blitz tells God and the Devil to shake hands or heíll kick their asses. Blitz tells father time what time it is. Yadda frickin yah. Please, stop the punishment already. Blitz is old news like Buddhist that set himself on fire. Oh, and Blitz told him to do that. This fucker is worse than a case of VD. But at least we know that they both have something in common. They just keep coming back. Much like James Weck. Though this guy is similar to the VD. We have a name for him as well. Now this isnít meant to be derogatory, but itís the simple truth. He shares a common bound with this name. We call him gonorrhea. Then there is Pain, which by his names sake we call Chlamydia. Then there is the ultimate pain in the ass, which Iím going to refer to him as A.I.D.S. Of course there is only one person that is noble enough to earn this title, and heís the biggest, ugliest, dumbest fucker around. Thatís right Jaymz. Iím talking about you. Maybe if I douse you in bleach youíll go away. Youíre like a virus that just doesnít get it. And Iím the ultimate cure. I am four steps ahead of all of you in this game. In less than eleven moves itís game over and I win, no matter what any of you do. You see I am the King of this game, and when that bell goes ding, ding, I am crowned victor. So VD, Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, and A.I.D.S., you all are bad and nasty diseases, and I am the bleach that will cleanse this federation of your evils. Of course there is the other problems Like Erectile Dysfunction, also known as Weck, Delirium or Sin, Alzheimerís disease or Barnhart, and Crohnís Disease or Krusher. Isnít nice to know that everyone is affected by some sort of problem that just wonít go away? Take Sin for instance. He plays with dolls. He practiced voodoo in his last promo, which means that heís starting to branch out.

John walks over to a punching bag and begins to hit the bag in a rhythmic fashion.

John: See now I said once before that I wasnít going to get into religion when it came to Sin, but he dug that grave himself so heís the one that opened the can of worms.

So which is it Sin? Are you Satanic, or a Voodooist? Which religion do you follow for the dark side? Catholicism? Judaism? Star Wars? What man? Iím not sure here so talk to me instead of playing with dolls. Youíre almost as bad as Bulldog Bill Barnhart. With his drinking Diet Coke, and clothes shopping and wearing pink. No wonder why youíre his stablemate for a month, because you two have so much in common. But you though, Sin. You pick an odd name and wear makeup. You wear leather nut huggers and God and everyone can see your mangina. Thatís a pretty nasty camel toe youíve got going there dude. Iím not going to say that youíve got the ďIím sixteen years old and hate everything so Iím emo syndromeĒ. But you are treading very closely to it. You are pathetic. From what Iíve seen in the ring you hit like a girl, and wrestle like a horny donkey. But thatís all besides the point. The topic here is religion. Believe me when I say that religion, politics, and personal beliefs do not belong in a wrestling ring. But you make it so damn apparent so I guess the rest of us have no choice but to follow suit. There is no scientific evidence that there is a God, or a Satan. It is a fabled story made up by the Roman Catholic Church to strike fear into the wicked. It was originated to cause law and order within the early years of civilization. IF you were to take a moment and look at the FACTS, rather than idiocy, you would see that I am right. God did not make the heavens and the earth. Little strings of super microscopic organisms and gasses did. When two or more strings of gasses collided, it created the big bang, thus creating the Sun. The earth, which we live is actually a fragment of rock from the sun when it formed. Mercury, Venus Mars are also in the same state, however over billions of years bacteria and these super micro organisms began evolving into advanced organisms and the rest is history. As far as Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus, they are gasses that are left over from the beginning and have formed their own atmospheres and revolve around the sunís gravitational pull. Neptune is a mixture of rock and gasses and Pluto is actually a moon fragmented from a dead planet from long ago. My point is Sin, that what you Ďbelieveí in is all based on fiction. You are human. You bleed just as I bleed. You become angered just as I become angered. You are no different from any other man or woman on this roster. Vampires do not exist, because it is physically impossible for a humanoid body to live off of just plasma and blood. We humans are Omnivores. We eat both plant and animals. You, Sin are a human. A bottom of the barrel scraping human, but you are still a man. Go on ahead, take your best shot at me. Because if you werenít human, youíd be able to win every match with unparalleled strength, and wisdom. Youíd be able to make people submit to your will without even moving a finger. But thatís all science fiction brother. You my friend are a brainwashed fool. Please pass the bong and the pills man. Because Iíd really like to know what the hell it is that you see and think. Your accomplishments are nothing. You made have held titles and beaten so and so, but I have a long and famed career here in the GWA. Iíve been here since itís origins. In essence I am an GWA Original, Just like Blitz Bomber, Just like Orion, just like Shane West. Now I know that Shane West beat your ass and youíve beaten him. I also know that heís no longer allowed to wrestle here, but I guess thatís what happens to people after they get into the hall of fame, they just go downhill. You wonít be able to out do me on Monday Sin. Because while youíre faster than me, Iíve got the power and the brains. Not to mention thereís eight other guys that you have to get through as well. Do you honestly think you can trust Jaymz to not throw your make up wearing ass over the top rope? Believe me, the moment that anyone sees an opportunity theyíll do everything they can to eliminate the competition. You are no different.

John stops hitting the punching bag and heads over to an open area with a bar above his head. With his height, itís not very hard to reach the bar and let his legs go and begin to pulling his own body weight up and down.

John: Next we have the inconceivable, the lethargic, the one and only man that has a face that only a mother could love. This man is so full of himself that he actually believes the own crap that come out of his mouth. He does not think before he speaks, much less acts, he is as slow moving as molasses in winter, and as strong as an ox, and smells like one to boot. I of course am talking about Jaymz. The fearless, mindless zombie of Zero Talent. Why call it Zero Talent? Well none of them have any talent, and are about as useful as kidney stones. Jaymz the big and strong would appear to be my biggest threat and obstacle in this match. When in reality, heís not. I proved the last time to him that Iím not the same man youíve faced before. He didnít think Iíd last as long as I did. But whether he wants to see this or not, he was literally seconds away from tapping out to the Detroit Special. A.P. Feight saved the day, then pinned your ass for a quick three count. Kinda shatters your bubble there, eh Alexi? Youíre not so tough after all. And with that beer gut the only thing youíve got going for you is the weight factor. Trust me when I say that you will not be winning this match, or the Global title anytime soon. Youíve gotten too soft in the head, and in the body. You donít train and condition like the rest of us do. Youíre more apt to be like Blitz Bomber and be in the same league as James Weak. Because all three of you take pride in the factor: I like pain, I give pain, me Garr, you ahhhhrrr. All three of you should be contesting the extreme belt rather than the global, because all Iíve seen from all of you is shit. Weak thinks that just because his mommy Grinder and his daddy Al Cohol, or is it Mommy Al Cohol and Daddy Grinder? Either way he thinks that just because the bosses have strings to pull that he can do the whole: ďDonít make me angry, you wouldnít like Weck when he angryĒ. Then thereís Blitz as earlier mentioned. All three are in for a rude awakening. You see, I train for this type of match, because it is in fact in for my favor. Jaymz is too slow and will be out faster than birds on seed. Blitz will get knocked out early because again he thinks heís God. I can see that now. He points to an opponent and expects them to jump over the top rope to the floor, and he gets knocked the fuck out again like he did last week. Hah he hah he. Either way none of these jokers are worthy.

John stops his lifting and walks over to a treadmill. He steps on and begins in a medium paced jog.

John: Pain. The man that just couldnít get the job done. Man, I heard what you had to say, and all Iíve got to say is: Would you like me to bring you a pacifier, a bottle and diapers? Because you sound like a whining baby. ďJohn Irons tarnished my perfect record, so heís gonna payĒ. Boo freaking hoo. Iíve got better morons to deal with that listen to your crap. So you lost a tag match? Big whoop-ity-doo! I havenít won a tag match since I began my career here, and I never will. What does that tell you? I donít work well with others. I could give a shit less about the tag titles. More room for the other ass grabbing ladies in the locker room to enjoy. Personally I donít qualify for the tag titles, just like I donít qualify for the T.V., or the Airborne titles. So that leaves the other three. Any idiot can pick up a chair and hit someone with it, so the Extreme title is easy./ The United States Title is a bit harder, then we have the title thatís gonna be on the line next week. And itís going to be me versus whomever wins the other battle royal. Why me? Because Iím better than you Pain. I donít need a list of titles that Iíve held just so I can lose them. I have a list of men that Iíve made quit. That stands taller than any material piece of silver or gold. So bring whatever you got small fry and letís rumble. You ass is going to be flying out of that ring.

Krusher. You sad, sad little man. You actually think that all your hype is gonna get you support? You got your ass kicked by your own brother last week. Not to mention Pain rolled you up for the one two three. Your as pathetic as an old man trying to get it up. You are a has been just like Blitz. Overrated, and under the weather. I see about as much of a chance as you winning as Big W00t Daddy becoming a champion. Thatís a fact. Youíre better off just apologizing to your brother and rejoining the tag division where the both of you belong. From what I can see the both of you suck monkey balls in the singles competition. You want to assume that you know what itís like to face me? Take this into consideration. In one night I defeated sixteen championships from five people. Thatís all GWA gold there. In my career I have ended fourteen careers of GWA Superstars like yourself. There is more than meets the eye when it comes to me. Every week I go out there and wrestle like a chess game, always staying ahead of the opponents by six moves. I predict what happens then counter and overcome. Why else do you think I havenít lost a singles match since returning from injury? Half the roster refuses to see the excellence that is John Irons, but that doesnít mean that you should be like the rest. The reason why you wonít be winning this is because you donít have the desire to do anything to win. I do. Before I retire, I want my name engraved in that wall of fame for Global title holders. I also want to put an end to Damage Inc. Al Cohol and Grinder shouldnít be playing favorites. Theyíre old, decrepit, and couldnít pull off a win if they tried. Well actually they could, it would be a fixed win. Either way youíre not in my league. The name John Irons screams champion, and world champion. You my Barbie like friend are more like Darcy Dynamite.

Next we have two men that I honestly wish that were not in this match. Itís difficulties like these that make it a hard decision of how to win. Jack Faust and Fang. Both you guys are my friends, and I wish you the best. But like Iíve stated earlier I donít work well with others, and this is my time. Both of you know that Iíve more than earned my shot to be here, especially after the screwjob that I received. This is my time to be on top and bring home the Gold for Disasterpiece. I really wish neither of you were here, just as you both were wishing the same, but reality is we have to. Iím not holding back any hits or punches guys. This is the real deal. Iíve got to prove to not only you, but to the world that I am the best in the game. Iím going out here to win, and I donít accept anything less than excellence. I want to face the winner of the other battle royal next week, and show the world that Disasterpiece is truly the best there is. There will be no hard feelings. Both of you know that once that bell rings, and all of us are in the ring itís a war. Like Iíve said before Iím going into this thing with a huge target on my back because Iíll be the hardest one to get over that top rope. But I canít allow either of you to win. Iím sorry.

John pushes a button and begins to run faster on the treadmill. The sweat from his muscular body glistens as it almost seems to bring his tattoos to life. After a few minutes of hard, fast running, John slows it down to a slow walk.

John: Now with that all being said, allow me to address all of you. Whether you hate me, or youíre a friend know that I am dead serious about winning this battle royal. I will not be screwed out of winning this title again. I deserve it, much more than any of you do. I have proven my worth to be better than what anyone could have ever expected. Just know that I refuse to go over that top rope, and any of you can try, but itís me that will have the victory. I will prove once more that I am the best in this business. Greatness shines upon me, and it is destiny that guides me to a sure victory. This Monday will be a match that none of you will ever forget, much less live down once you have been defeated. A true champion shines with greatness and goes above and beyond the call of duty to win. A true champion doesnít whine about the past, they learn from their mistakes and train harder. They donít underestimate their opponents, they play it like a chess game. Champions are born and bred from greatness. I am your next Global Wrestling Alliance Champion. And I say bring it with everything that youíve got. I accept the challenge, and warn you that if you cross me, youíll end up like Morbius Tassius. I end careers, and itís in my hands whether you sink or float. Remember this when you step into the ring with me on Monday night. Iíll be there waiting for my victory.

The scene fades to black as John is seen walking towards the shower room.

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