The Delta airline attendant hands Brandon the peanuts. He thanks her with a quick shi shi ni to which she gives him an odd look and walks off. Brandon smiles a little thinking of how much fun it is to fuck with people’s heads. That is one thing he is afforded by being involved with a wrestling federation. The best way of course being by surprising the hell out of them with an upset. The Royal rumble coming up was going to be his chance. Everyone was counting against him, even if not all of them had said it. Only Draven had had the balls to try to tell Brandon that he was no threat. Other than him was Death, who simply said he had smelled like a monkey’s arse.

Wow, that guy Death has a pretty impressive way with words. If his wrestling skills are anything like his trashtalking skills, I better watch out.

He thinks about the people who might be a threat though, and begins to think of how he will go about eliminating them one by one.

Well there are my friends, Dusty, Stephanie, and Thomas. Will I feel bad about eliminating them? Well obviously that will get me nowhere. It is up to me to see them as just other opponents who are in my way and need to be eliminated. So as far as you three go, forget the past, forget the future. Only remember that you are in the ring with a fucking cyclone, and each of you know this from past experiences. We’ve been through a lot of shit together, the only difference is, this time we each have to stand alone. There is no remorse for anything that happens in this fight.

Brandon doesn’t notice that a young kid with an afro is staring at him as he continues to talk to himself.

Then there are the people who actually seem to have a clue. Like Triple X. If anyone stands to gain from the Royal Rumble besides me, its him. X, you have what it takes, and yes, I know it isn’t going to be easy to knock your ass out. But don’t think I am scared by any means. Rather, I look forward to it being you and I standing last in that ring after the random pointless stupid bodies are tossed here and there, scattered in pain, after getting either thumped or smacked. I can’t wait to exchange blows with the one true scrap of talent that is here besides my friends and I. But get used to disappointment my three lettered friend, because while you crack a good joke and run your mouth constantly, there are some of us who only sit back and let you talk, so when you get thumped, the whole world can see how full of shit you really are, ya fuckin choad.

Brandon sees the kid now, and offers him some peanuts. The kid runs away from this strange large man who cusses at himself. Brandon shrugs and sits back to enjoy his peanuts.

The plane lands and Brandon gets up and gathers his gear, his only carry-on luggage. He exits the plane behind the kid, who smiles up at him. Brandon reaches down and pulls a pen out of his bag. He signs the kid's hand, making his day. The kid gets a big grin on his face, and tugs on his mothers shirt. He shows her his hand, and she gets all upset. She pulls out a napkin and spits on it and begins rubbing the name off while giving Brandon a dirty look. Brandon looks out one of the windows as if he doesn't know what is going on.

Brandon walks into the parking garage and searches for 5A parking space. He has a little trouble and goes to the main desk. He shows the ticket to the attendant.

The problem, Mr. Moore, is that there is not a vehicle parked in that space. I can gladly give you directions to the space if you would like to see for yourself.

Brandon accepts the directions and heads up to the area. He sees the problem immediately. His monster truck isn't parked in 5A. Its parked in 5A, 5B, and 5C. Brandon rolls his eyes and climbs up inside. As he does, he remembers what Adam Laxx had said in his last interview. He had almost called Brandon Ichabod, another wrestler who drove a monster truck. As flattering as it was to be mistaken for a legendary retired wrestler, Brandon wonders how Adam could have made such a stupid mistake. He shrugs and tries to remember if Adam was in the rumble. He knows every non-world title contender is supposed to be, but he couldn't blame Darren if he had forgotten to put Adam in the match. Hell, even Brandon would forget Laxx if he wasn't popping up every now and then with his pointless interviews.

Hell, he's probably realized how bad he's going to get beat at the rumble if I get ahold of him and gone into a brain fart remembering how bad Ichabod beat the hell out of him in all those feds. Poor guy. Adam, if somehow you could hear me, I would offer you some medication for that shit. It's got to be depressing knowing you are going up against someone who is not only going to beat you like you have been beaten so many times, but worse. Don't worry, you are so damn unimportant to me that once I get through this rumble, I'll go onto glory and you will be left behind and I will forget your sorry ass. Then you can go back to whatever the hell it is that you do around here and never have to worry about the upper echelon guys like me beating the living hell out of you again. Of course on the other hand, you'll still have to worry about the second rate lower class midcarders beating your ass, but hey you are used to that shit right? Good luck Laxx.

Brandon fires up the monster truck he bought pretty cheap from a dealer and remembers the guy saying that a wrestler used to own the truck. Even named it the Monster. Of course the way the dealer was dressed, Brandon found it hard to believe half the shit coming out of his mouth. The only thing he paid attention to was the dealer saying the truck would go for $17,000. Brandon had paid for it with all he had in the bank, and it had taken him a lot to make up for that buy. But hey, it was a monster truck, and lowriders were for people who couldn't get it up. Brandon lets the engine run for a minute enjoying the power of the giant machine before backing out and exiting the garage.