*Logan Matthews sits back in his chair and takes a Cuban cigar from the inside of his jacket and lights it up. After he blows a few smoke rings he smiles and shakes his head knowingly. He wonders if any of the them realize how futile their useless squabbling is. No one ever got anywhere fighting everyone that came in to their path. He takes another long drag of the cigar, inhaling deeply, letting some smoke roll over his face before blowing it all out in a thick, grey cloud. Everything They had discussed, it was all coming together. At Fallout, he'd be the Xtreme champion, then, it would be time for the plan to come to fruition. Who cared if he was above the hardcore division? Who cared if he was the best wrestler to walk in to this locker room in years? No one. But he knew, that after Fallout, no one would be able to look past him again. He knew that his time was now and he had to make an impact. One more puff from the cigar, the smell of the smoke from the end is like heaven to Logan's nose. When he finally exhales, he lets out a small laugh because no one is even gonna know what's coming.*