Our Tommy Drake scene opens outside and undisclosed area in Canada. Quietly our view of a scenic road, a hillside as our camera focuses on looking up, to see if anything might be appearing over the hill. Slowly like the blazing sun rise a silver low rider truck, blaring 50 Cent "Heat" as it's driver is unknown. Slowly the camera zooms in to a close up view to reveal it none other then Tommy Drake in his new ride. He's lightly bouncing his head as he rests his left arm along the window sill of his car as he drives down the hill, grinning from ear to ear like a cheshire cat. Why you so happy Tommy?

    Tommy: "Look at my ride man! It's blazing cool man. It's certified too!"

        Damn man it is blazing. Nice stereo too. Hey, how did you afford that? You haven't had a match in three weeks man.

    Tommy: "I know. They still take interest in paying me."

        Tommy's mood is much more serious now. He seems a little angered as he looks off toward the road, driving along the endless flat ground, mountains in the far far off distance, pastures to his left and right. It's sunny and beautiful. Tommy's wearing a white CCW T-shirt, some black denim jean shorts and it appears some spiffy Lugz driving shoes. He slowly begins to pull off of the road onto a bit of gravel as he stops his truck, 50 Cent "Heat" slowly coming to an end as he turns his engine off, the song abruptly stopping as Tommy takes his seat belt off and opens his door, steeping foot on the ground as he reaches into the bed of his truck, opening a cooler and pulling out a Green Apple Jones Soda® as he twists open the glass bottle cap and takes a small swig, leaning against his truck as he begins to speak out.

    Tommy: "You know, there are three kinds of people in this business. Their are the entertainers, who strive to go out each and every night, to feel this great high you know when the crowd's just loving you, attention I suppose. There's people who wrestle for the sheer fact they love wrestling. And then their are those who have the questionable motives. Why are they in this business? You know, those stupid bitches that are taking people's spots which they don't deserve. Myself, I'm here to entertain each and every fan, where ever go. You never hear of an angry Tommy Drake fan do you? Not until now."

        Tommy takes another long swig of his soda, taking a lot down his throat as he gulps it, his face much more serious then he usually is.

    Tommy: "For three weeks I've been getting paid to sit on my ass at home and train. To do nothing. Every other slacker in the world would trade jobs with me in a minutes notice. But you see I can't live that way. I came out at that house show to make sure everyone knows I'm still around, that T Dawg is still kicking it."

        T Dawg?

    Tommy: "Someone put it on a sign in the crowd."

        Oh! It's a good nick name.

    Tommy: "I thought so."

        Tommy gave a little nod of appreciation to the camera as he whiped a bit of soda off his lips as he continued.

    Tommy: "Now where was I? For three god damn weeks I haven't been booked, my fans haven't been able to see him do what I do best. And that's kick some ass and rap about it, for the sake of fun, competition since frankly I love this as a sport and to entertain. I mean who doesn't love watching my raps? Ok there's a lot of people on that list but the fans are into it, and that's what matters to me. That's what matters to T-Drake. With this conclusion and the coarse of actions of Canadian Championship Wrestling they have left me no other choice but to take matters into my own hands."

        Tommy gave a little grin as he popped his knuckles loudly, clasping his right fist in his left palm as he held it and rolled his neck out a bit. What do you mean Tommy?

    Tommy: "I mean what I said. Tomorrow night is Tuesday Night Talent and I'm going to make sure that near the end of the show, it's going to be Tuesday Night Tommy, who knows? Point is I'm going to get my message across to the guys in the back who hold their pins and book the matches loud and clear. Tommy Drake is Talent and I came to CCW to show you what I can do, and hopefully lead to myself bringing forth a new generation in not just CCW, but all of the WWA. The Eric Dane's era has came to an end upon his retirement. I can stand here and get paid for nothing or I'm going to make sure that in 10 years when I'm STILL tearing it up that the Era of T Drake will never be forgotten. To a shred that my memory will live on forever in everyone's lives I've brought something too. Maybe someone to get pissed at because I'm a white guy with a low rider truck and who raps. Maybe to make you cry because I remind you of an old friend. Or to simply entertain the f*ck out of you as you watch me kick some ass, hell it maybe even yours, who knows..."

        Tommy's intense glare into the camera lightly subsides as the camera moves to a shot of his left side as he gazes out into the pasture's sipping his soda as he appears angered yet at a calm, a ponderment.

    Tommy: "Who really knows?"

        Fade to Black