*John Fraust's music starts playing and he walks out with Killer Malone at his side. Both men ignore fans as they walk down to the ring. They step through the ropes and look around. Fraust motions for a microphone.*
John Fraust: Nine years ago, I joined the NRWL. By the time I joined, I had already put myself through some terribly violent matches with other wrestling companies. I knew that I had shortened my career quite a bit so I set out to make an impact in the NRWL while I could. By the time the third season was starting up, I was in pretty rough shape so I walked away. The NRWL inducted me into the Hall of Fame shortly afterward.
*A mix of cheers and boos fill the arena.*
JF: I am a Hall of Fame wrestler. In this ring, there is nothing else I need to prove. Having the distinction of being a Hall of Famer is a bigger accomplishment than any championship belt. No one would deny that. People have been asking why I came back and the general consensus is that I came back to win the NRWL Championship that I never held. Well, all of those people are wrong. I came back for one reason. When I came to this company, Mike Blood, the greatest wrestler in the history of the sport, came to me and offered to take me under his wing.
*The crowd cheers at hearing Mike Blood's name. Fraust waits a moment for the crowd to quiet down. He doesn't seem to mind the interruption from the fans.*
JF: He saw something in me and out of all the new talent in the NRWL he picked me. It was an honor to work with him and he made me a better wrestler. The most important lesson he taught me was not a move in the ring, not a tactic to rile up all of you fans, no, he taught me how important it was to pass the torch. That, is the reason I came back. I am here to do what Mike Blood did for me. There was one guy who really impressed me above all. He reminded me of myself. He had all the skills he just needed some guidance. That man is standing right next to me. That man is Killer Malone!
*The crowd begins to boo loudly as Killer Malone takes the microphone from Fraust. He looks around and sneers at the crowd.*
Killer Malone: You can boo me all you want. You should know by now that I have never cared for your approval. I've always done things my way. Sometimes you like it, sometimes you don't. Makes no difference to me. Unlike the rest of those pukes in the back, I'm going places. When John Fraust pulled me aside and offered his help, I couldn't turn him down. It was good to see that someone saw me for who I really was. I am a fighter, a competitor, and I'll do whatever I have to do to get to the top. When I turned my back on Marty Anderson, it wasn't because I hated the guy. I needed to make a statement and move on for my own sake. I'd be a fool not to make the most of an opportunity. Fraust understands that. You should too.
*The crowd boos even more loudly. Fraust laughs and takes the microphone back. He smirks and says something in Killer Malone's ear. Both men laugh at some inside joke.*
JF: When you get this much heat from the crowd, you know you are doing something right. There is something else I need to address. I helped Mike Blood train his son, Mark Blood. Unlike Killer here, Mark Blood has not impressed me. I've watched every single match in his career. He shows so much potential but somehow, he just falls short. He seems unfocused, unsure of himself. I've been hard on him since I came back. Mark, I know you are back there. I want to talk to you face to face. Get out here.
*Fraust and Malone stand there waiting until Mark Blood's music starts playing. He comes down to the ring to a mixed reaction from the crowd. He climbs into the ring and walks right up to Fraust, staring him in the face. Fraust gives him a cold stare.*
JF: You --
*Mark Blood rips the microphone out of Fraust's hand.*
Mark Blood: You shut your mouth. No one wants to hear you talk anymore. You come out here trying to be like my father and shepherd someone to greatness. That's fine and good luck to you. Here's what I don't get. What does this have to do with me? If you are so unhappy with me, why even bother to put your energy into beating me down backstage? Sicking your protege on me? What's the point of it all?
*Fraust motions for another microphone and takes a new one for himself.*
JF: If you'd let me talk, maybe you'd learn something. You've got the fire. You've got the skills. I just don't know why you can't pull it together. It's a shame really. You want to know why I am singling you out? It's pretty simple. I am here to stand in Killer Malone's corner, and, I'd like to stand in yours as well. I'm not about hugs and pats on the back. No, I show my disapproval. If I'm not on your case, you are doing something right. In your case, you're doing something wrong but I am going to fix that. Stand alongside us.
*Killer Malone leans into Fraust's microphone.*
KM: Come on, man. It's going to be a great run, you know that.
*Mark Blood turns and looks out to the crowd with his brow lowered. He tilts his head to each side and then finally nods. He drops his microphone and turns to shake John Fraust's hand. Fraust smiles and Killer Malone raises his fists in the air. Malone turns around to look out to the crowd. Mark Blood looks over at him, smirks, and then pulls Fraust's arm and drops him with a DDT. Blood jumps up quickly as Malone turns around. Before Malone can react, Blood hammers fists into his face and then kicks him out of the ring. As Mark Blood turns around to look for Fraust, Fraust clotheslines him. Fraust jumps on top of Blood and starts slugging him in the head. Malone slides into the ring with a toolbox he found under the apron. Fraust looks up at him and then pulls Blood up on his knees. He locks Mark Blood in a full nelson. Malone wraps his hands around the toolbox and drives it hard into Blood's brow and face. The toolbox bursts open and tools spills over the ring mat. Fraust releases Mark Blood who falls motionless on the tools. Face down, a pool of blood forms.*
*Killer Malone and John Fraust look down at Mark Blood for a moment and then turn and walk backstage. The crowd boos them at deafening levels. NRWL medical staff rushes past them to help Mark Blood in the ring.*
