WallStreet is seen standing in a dark room, nothing distinguishable except his own presence. The shot only has his upper torso so all we see is his long, wet, curly hair dangling and his dark green cloudy design T Shirt with the below graphic.

WallStreet doesn't look very happy as he has that cold glare he's been offering quite a bit as of late.

WallStreet nods, "I guess congratulations are in order. (Golfers clap)... Oh yeah, Bravo Paul, Bravo. You pulled one on the ol' Corporate Icon. You told the world you were gonna find someone bad and mean, and then you bring out Queen Slender and everyone thinks "What the Fluck?" They all stand their in awe... In SHEER AWE at the stupidity of your decision and while I knew full well that you had to of had something else up your sleve, even I will admit that I thought you'd lost your damn mind feeding lil ol' Slender to the Corporate Lion's den. Then it happened... James, out of no where with his lil "Lights Out" RKO. James, if you're anywhere in viewing distance you hear me and hear me well... I've traveled these roads with you for damn close to a decade. We've lost blood on every wrestling hosting continent and we've beaten each other from pillar to post in every promotion from Sammy NoBody's Local Indy to the ICWA, TBG, BUD, PWT, and Everyplace in between. But don't think for one moment, FOR ONE MOMENT... That you've taken all I've got to give. James you chrome dome drunken sack of crap... You step up anytime, any place, and I'll show you just why it is that I'm still standing in the middle of this ring as a recognized top tier force in this Industry while you sit around praying Paul's little pay off keeps the lights on for a few more months so you don't have to try and climb back from obscurity and make another lack luster run in this ring."

WallStreet snarls... I guess he's not especially pleased with the outcome of things at Rage in a Cage.

WallStreet never takes piercing glare away from the camera as he continues, "Tubby McGee, back to you. You bring in James and the whole world gasps in shock and admitedly, you sure as Hell surprised me. But even then that worm Slender comes over, One, Two, GET THE HELL OFF ME YOU BACH LOOKIN PIECE OF CRAP! I kick out... Why? Because I can. Even after the Lights out, I start to make my way back. I put Slender down hard on the mat, I cover, One, Two... He's feeling all warm and fuzzy, there's an Ittsy bittsy flag pole starting to rise in his trunks as he pleads with me to stay on top of him all night long but do we hear the three count? No. Why? Because apparently someone recommended to Pauley that Carlton had a cream filled Eclare in his pants, Paul didn't get the sexual inuendo and pulled his ass out of the ring to find the doughnut... Then again, maybe Paul DID get the sexual inuendo. Either way, he pulls the ref and there comes ol' Lurch.... Lurch, Warner, whatever you wanta go by, let me tell ya something brother... I'm gettin' real damn tired of gettin' slammed on my back everytime I turn around. You wanta slam me around? Hey daddy, I'm all about it. You bring your million dollar body and your ten cent brain into that ring, you let the time keeper ring the bell and brother, we can get funky like a monkey. We'll get down all over Greenville! All ya gotta do... All ya gotta do, hear me closely hear me well.. All ya gotta do daddy is let those two lil pebbles you store in your trunks drop down an inch or two, become your own man, tell Roley Poley Oley Heyman to go buy a big mac and make your own decision. You make your own decision and make the decision to man up, step between the ropes, and face me one on one. I promise, I'm no Dick Foley, I'm no Plowboy Graven, I'll slap the taste so far out of your mouth the guy in the noise bleed's gonna be tellin the sheets what Pat Warner's last meal was before he got his ass whipped by the Corporate Icon. That's something you can take to the bank Jack."

WallStreet's all worked up now.

WallStreet, "Damn it all to Hell Fat Betty, I let myself get sidetracked again. Back to Paul "E" "And the E stands for my bra size" Heyman. So ya lil Umpa-lumpa son of a bitch.. Ya have your baby Huey wanta-be sack of crap drive me into the mat with that damned Juggernaught slam and BOOM! 1, 2, 3. Nobody will ever say that Pat Warner isn't one strong son of a bitch. Nobody will ever say that Pat Warner hasn't put the Corporate Icon on his back more then once... But nobody can or will ever say that Patrick Warner ever pinned the Corporate Icon because You Paul, and your lil man toy Pat Warner... Neither of ya have the GUTS to step between the ropes in a sanctioned contest. If there's anything you don't seem to lack Paul E, it's guts. Your Belt's stretched so far it's crying harder then a virgin getting raped by an anaconda and YET, somehow you don't have guts. Who knew? Who knew the father of "Extreme" in the United States of America was a PANSEY?!"

WallStreet, who's pacing around and a lil hyped up starts to calm himself back down and regain his serious coldness...

WallStreet, "Pat... Paul... On February sixth I'll be in the Greenville Convention Center. On February sixth I'll walk to that ring, step in the center, and I'll shine your shoes Paul. I'll shine your shoes because I'm a man of my word and while ya may have cheated at every damn turn, ya still won the bet. This is what a man with character looks like Paul. This is what a man who isn't a PANSEY... Looks like Paul. So I'll be there on February sixth with the polish and rag in hand, but know this Paul... You're just delaying the inevitable. You may get a piece of my pride in Greenville on the sixth but, come Hell or highwater I promise you Paul... Before this is all said and done..."

WallStreet snickers...

WallStreet, "I'm gonna have a piece of your Ass."

The camera fades on WallStreet's piercing glare.