The obnoxious guard walks back and forth in front of the few rows of cells tapping the bars with his nightstick. He keeps repeating the ten commandents over and over like a southern preacher on prozak. He gets to the final cell and there sits Ichabod on a cot. He smiles slightly at the guard, who stops for a moment to glare, and then continues on. Ichabod laughs.

The legal system, this nation's most fucked up establishment. It finally has served me, I get to see that prick Chris Conner on ice. Oh, it doesn't much bother me, i been in and out of these things my whole life. I'll be out soon. And chris, you can tell your lawyer to stick it up his ass. I want no favors from you or anyone else. I did what i did last night because I can't fucking wait to get my hands on you. The days are going by fast now, and the countdown to your destruction has begun. There are eleven days left before A New Beginning, and then all hell breaks loose. But, hey, I get to give you a preview on friday night. I know we are tag team partners, but fuck that. I won't be running in to help you, and you won't be getting a tag while I'm in there. Stay the fuck out of my way you little asshole, and you might live to see Saturday morning cartoons. And i will give you a little piece of advice, when the match is over, you better get your ass out of the way. I am dying to wrap my fucking hands around that turkey neck and choke you within an inch of your life.

Chris, you are holding something that should belong to me. This isn't really about just that anymore though, is it? For me its about proving your illusions of creating me wrong. ALl you did was give me advice when i was young. I created the Ichabod you see before you. I taught myself to embrace this evil inside, a power yo could never understand. It's a fire we call the Sickness. A precious few weild this power. Wicked D, Reverend, names like this. You will never hold it, you are far too weak.

This is also about survival, Chris. These are no longer mere matches, fights, or battles. This is a fucking war, and you aren't going to have the will to finish it when I am through with you. The bonneau death match may be your match,conner, but that world title belongs to me, and I am going to take it from you. I'm proud like a fucking god, and you are nothin to me but a means to an end. Prepare for the end, conner, your career is over, ya fucking choad.

As for Steele and Wicked D. Now you two choads got some kind of beef over that slut Dark Angel. Frankly, I don't see what the big deal is. She's no prize. The best thing for the two of you to do is kick her ass to the curb and forget about her. You are going to have to work together on Friday if you expect to give me a match worth fighting. After the match I don't really give a shit what you do to each other, beat the living hell out of each other, shake hands and make an alliance, carry each other back stage and butt fuck all night, whatever. but one of you are getting pinned by this evil redneck. I don't like either one of you, you both are worthless, and now it's time to face your life and the lies you keep telling each yourselves about your abilities. I'm leaving that arena victorious, and i'm leaving all three of your asses in that ring, broken, bleeding, and half dead.

Ichabod pulls out a cigarette and hollers for the guard. The guard comes over and looks in.

You got a light man?

The guard pulls out a book of matches and holds it inside the bars. Ichabod stands up and reaches for it, but instead grabs his shoulder. He spins the guard around and reaches down and grabs the night stick with his free hand. He forces it up against the guards neck and whispers to him.

Unlock the fucking cell and i won't kill you.

The guard hands Ichabod the keys and Ichabod grabs them with one hand and unlocks the cell. As he steps out, the guard draws his gun. Ichabod pulls it to his own face.

Shoot.

THe guard hesitates, and Ichabod takes the opportunity to bitch thump him. The gun hits the floor. IChabod grabs the nightstick again and proceeds to beat the living shit out of the guard. He flings his limp body into the cell and slams it shut. He grabs the gun off the floor and flings the keys on the ground near a cell. Other prisoners reach and grope for the keys. Ichabod walks away and stops near Chris Conner's cell. He looks in at him and laughs before he turns to leave.