Isn't life just grand? I mean really!...Ok maybe it isn't but let's forget that anyway, since life is grand for non other then the original Certified Badass. No, it's not that guy with the mullet who lives down the street from you near the trailer park who's afraid aliens are coming to invade the earth. It's Tommy Drake, a man who in a match went on to begin his master plan as he said. Was that plan to display such feats of high flying talents that it's scary? I highly doubt it. Tommy D was never the kind of guy to go and redefine stuff, too much effort. But..

    Tommy: "C'mon man. Describe the scene holmes!"

        Oh, that's right! Sorry. You ever forgive me?

    Tommy: "Do I keep paying you?"

        Uhh...I scuffle through my mail, finding my paycheck. Yes, I do. Our scene opens up in a most bizarre of places. It appears to be downtown Kansas City, MO. How I know this? Just read the subtitle at the bottom and the big screen view of the famous downtown plaza. Slowly the camera teleports in front of another place with the use of promo magic! Suddenly a rather large, fat man with pimples upon his face and foggy glasses with rats nest hair appears upon the screen, standing on the side walk parallel to the new setting, an old area of brick buildings.

    Man: "Did you say magic?"

        Why yes I did.

    Man: "I loooove magic. I play Dungeons and Dragons©!"

        ...Right. Back to the scene. It becomes apparent amongst all of this mess to focus upon one building, oddly familiar if your an older T Dawg fan. It's non other then his mentor and resident KC asshole's gym and training warehouse, the Treasure Chest. Slowly the ever famous silver low rider truck of Tommy Drake, a bouncing with hydraulics to the beats of some Sean Paul slowly begins to pull up to the curb. With the swift turn of a key the engine dies as the truck hops back low to the ground. Slowly the driver's side door opens to reveal non other then Tommy Drake, clad in a new "Cee Cee Dub" Baseball Jersey of red and white colors, with "Drake" on the back and the number "01" along with some khaki jean shorts, and some k-swiss tennis shoes. He runs a hand through his cleanly trimmed hair as he coughs and strides over the door, stopping as he pulls the cross neckglass out from under his jersey, holding it tight.

    Tommy: "Just think happy thoughts Tommy. It's not like he's going to flip out and kill you like a ninja would."

        He opens the door to the sounds of screams. Don't believe me? Here, listen to this!


        See! Told you so! Tommy gulps as he quietly strides in to see the screaming people nothing more then Jerry Springer playing over the PA as it plays on a 14 inch tv in the far off corner. The white, weight lifting brick walls are decored with posters of Amateur Wrestlers, promotional posters for Outlaw Wrestling, WWA, and TWF along with other sports and related drive. The weight lifting equipment is spread about upon the carpet, each position filled with various patrons as Tommy walks past, not taking any notice to the sign in desk. He strides past the machines and into a hall way, with a steel door with a glass window peering into a rather large, warehouse room where there's a wrestling ring in the center of it all, a man rolling around on the mat, duck walking, practicing by himself. Tommy gulps as he slowly opens the door, opening to very little sound as the man abruptly stops, looking at the entrance way as Tommy steps in, closing the door behind him as they stare at each from roughly 40 to 50 feet away. The camera zooms to the man.

    Man: "Have a lot of nerve to show up here."

        The man is non other then Logan's mentor, the systematic assassin and resident competitor of Outlaw Wrestling, Logan Treasure. Clad in slick pants with a white stripes on the side, a sleeveless hoodie and some tennis shoes as he eyes Tommy with nothing less then a bit of an arrogant and angered glance. Tommy begins to walk towards, him popping his knuckles.

    Tommy: "I've always been a kid with a some nerve. That's what you at least said."

        The tension could be cut with a knife. I mean literally, it could. Logan stands up in the ring as Tommy strides off, rolling his neck out a bit as he quickly stops in front of the apron of the ring, and slides under the bottom rope and stands up to his feet, looking at Logan face to face.

    Logan: "You came here because you wanted something. You have the biggest match of your career in WWA on the line and you running back to the man you abandoned in favor of flying solo. Pathetic."

        Tommy sighs, knowing it to be a bit of truth in Logan's harsh words as he looks away a bit angered as he peers up to Logan, stepping closer, getting face to face as he looks up at him.

    Tommy: "I didn't come here for a berating."

    Logan: "Your getting it anyway."

    Tommy: "Shut the hell up holmes."

    Logan: "Make my boy."

        Tommy clenches his right fist tightly, the blood rushing away from it as the skin turns lightly white. Logan gives a cocky little grin.

    Tommy: "Boy?"

    Logan: "You actually think your a man? Heh."

        Tommy grits his teeth, genuinely angered as sighs, his fists loosening up. He's at the mercy of Logan. We know he could go crazy rap style on him, but it'd make no difference, it would make no impact. Tommy strides back, looking to Logan as he mouths "another day" as Tommy rolls out of the ring and begins to walk toward the exit door. Logan just grins and yells as Tommy is near the door.

    Logan: "I'll be waiting boy."

        Tommy storms out the door, the camera showing him arriving outside as he sighs a bit, looking to the camera. Lightly pacing about as he peers to the camera, eyeing it from the corner of his eyes, his mind seeming a bit of hell.

    Tommy: "A man takes what he's thrown at him, and accepts it with full responsibility and consequence. Maybe I'm fooled by his words or not but I haven't lived up to that little thing yet. I have a match. This match carries the biggest responsibility I've ever had to carry in my pro wrestling career to date. I have to roll through the bushes, dodge the fire, and get that belt from da Twister himself and bring it back home to where it belongs, Canada. I have a lot of respect for Twister as the competitor as he is. He had some crazy stuff in ReV man. But as I know your watching me at home, seeing as me as some lucky, high flying kid, your first successful title defense, I have to disagree, I have to defy. To soar to death defying heights, to shatter all the lights, and walk out with the flyweight belt. I earned my shot at you Twister, and I know that. I can't doubt it. I beat Dragon Jones, and I beat Carter. One the wily, losing veteran, the other a kid just like me. But now is not the time to bother about records, about what I did in the past, such as losing to T3."

        Tommy looks dead into the camera, his appearance a bit serious but a little grin smiling through as he rubs his soar left arm absent mindedly.

    Tommy: "Now is the time for me to show you what Tommy Drake is all about. This isn't some freestyle rapper your facing, the same ole cocky certified badass. This is the man who will do anything in his power, will go to any height I can go to make sure I'm keeping that title in Canada. This isn't about just me anymore. This is about Dragon Jones, Rune Archer, Steve Rotten, Jason Carter, and all those other flyweights chillin up in the hizzouse known as Cee Cee Dub who want a crack at that title. And if I am the man who has to bring it home then so be it. Infact I feel honored. I mean in most situations I'd think "If Archer couldn't bring it home, then how could I? How could I for that matter be a worthy champ?" Well it's simple."

        Tommy grins as he rolls his shoulders out and begins to slowly stride along the side walk, inching closer to his truck by ever step.

    Tommy: "At the Summahsault I showed that with out a shadow of a doubt, that I am one of the best flyweights in Cee Cee Dub. I don't like to brag, but I don't mind to boast. You can watch that tape over and over, and you can marvel not only at the move, but at the reaction. Did you see the gaping jaws the crowd had when I countered a diving head butt into a sit out face buster? I thought so. I figure I could best explain it to you in rhyme, rap, hip hop speech, whatever you feel like calling it."

        Tommy gives a little cough as he walks up to a nearby guy, and hands him oddly enough a quarter as he abruptly begins to break out into a human beat box beat. That's funkadelic!

    Tommy: "In a battle of da best
                 Ragin from east to west
                 Twister haunting the New England Wrest
                 T Drake shamin the rest

                I'm soaring to new heights
                Like a shooting star
                I've got all the mights
                An Untouchable at your local bar

                I know what your thinkin
                About my naming game
                But when your boat starts sinkin
                Then you'll know whose lame

                I don't mean to be dissin
                You got all the skills in tha world
                But T Drake's the one that fans been missin
                And the one taking your pearl

                I'll show the world the new shit
                Takin your game to new levels
                T Drake's a wolverine takin da hit
                Bouncin back like a tazmanian devil.

    Fade to Black