*Jordan Bull is sitting in the corner after 20 minutes of hard hitting action, pain etched across his face, not knowing what he has to do to beat his former stablemate and long time best friend, Harrison Payne. As Harrison gets up in the corner, Jordan signals to the crowd and hurls himself towards his opponent, delivering a hard clothesline. Harrison falls to the floor and Jordan points to the turnbuckle. The crowd go wild as he climbs it, still facing them. He is soaking up the reaction, when the crack of wood against flesh rings out through the arena. Harrison Payne had used the kendo stick to strike Jordan in the back! Jordan winces in pain as he has fallen crotch first onto the steel. Harrison then climbs behind him and prepares for a back suplex. He lifts Jordan up and they fall, but Harrison has reversed his body position and delivers a huge, mid air lungblower to Bull. Both men's bodies are in unimaginable pain, but it is Harrison who claws his way into the cover! 1...2...3! After a hellacious matchup, it was the wily veteran Harrison Payne capitalising on Jordan Bull's mistake and turning it into his own fortune. Harrison slowly makes his way to his knees, clapping himself as his theme resonates through the PA system. He stands up and raises an arm to the crowd, he turns around to see Jordan Bull slowly coming to. He walks over to his friend and offers a hand. Jordan bites his lip and accepts it as Harrison helps him to his feet. The two exchange words while shaking hands. Jordan pulls Harrison in for a hug, then seems to whisper something in his ear. Harrison goes to pull away from the handshake but Jordan drags him close again, and boots him in the groin! Harrison falls to the floor in agony as his theme stops. The crowd are dead silent, except for murmurs of confusion. Jordan then smirks and picks Harrison to his knees and sets him up, dropping him on his head with a stiff package piledriver. The fans let out a large gasp. The referee comes into check on Harrison and holds up the X, to which Jordan picks him up by the shirt and german suplexes him. Bull then grabs the referee and piledrives him just like him piledrove Harrison Payne. Jordan licks his lips like a rabid dog. He rolls out of the ring and grabs the mic from the announcer. The crowd have already begun to boo him, but many are still in shock as Jordan begins to speak whilst walking up the steel steps.*
Jordan: 3 years. 3 years of the same old shit.
*Jordan climbs into the ring and stands behind the referee's lifeless, broken body as Harrison Payne is being stretchered out*
Jordan: I let you people get into my head and look what happens: I lose! Well, I'm tired of losing, I'm tired of being a fucking loser! They were right, Jordan Bull fell off. I fell off when I started letting people tell me what to say, and what to do. This ends tonight. As of this vey moment, I am not your champion, I am THE champion. When I first arrived in the Precision locker room, I didn't get anywhere near the recognition I deserved. I worked my arse off for 2 and a half years to build a dynasty for myself, and all that was irrelevant through no fault of my own. It's fine for someone like Buster Gates, who is rich enough to buy his way into the title picture, or like The Blade, who gets his way through selling masks and t-shirts to stupid little kids and fat, ugly sweathogs who watch anime and all the other things that you internet virgins do nowadays. What about the actual talent, actual talent like me? I have scratched and I have clawed to get a glimpse of what it's like at the top of the mountain and every single time I've even had a taste of success it's been snatched away from me. No more, no more settling for second best. I'm going to prove that wins, losses, money, merchandise sales, birthright or looks mean nothing compared to extreme brutality. I am going to dismember, degrade, disrespect, decimate, destroy and dominate evey single person standing between me and whoever is unlucky enough to hold that Undisputed Championship. I am not just here to end matches, I'm here to end careers if that is what it takes to get that belt around my waist. I am the Alpha and the Omega here in Precision, the beginning and the end. Ryan Blake, way I see it, you have no choice; You either make me your number one guy, or I turn this entire company into a travesty! I am the cavity in the teeth of your promotion, I'm a cancer that is going to spread through the entire body of Precision and kill it if I don't get what I want. Just look at this poor son of a bitch.
*Jordan kicks the ref's head as he struggles to move*
Jordan: You crossed me, buddy, and now I have to make an example out of you.
*Jordan picks the limp body of the 5ft2 referee up by the throat. He puts him into position for the Package Piledriver and drops him once again. This time there is absolutely no movement from the referee once he hits the mat, he just crumples and the segment has almost become hard to watch at this point. The crowd can't even muster up the strength to boo Jordan anymore after his disgusting actions. Jordan stands up and looks with intense anger down the hard camera.*
Jordan: You know what I want Blake. I'd suggest you think long and hard before you make a decision that could endanger the careers of more employees. But, since this nameless son of a bitch is done for anyway...
*Jordan lifts him up once again and delivers a sick Package Piledriver before the show cuts to an impromptu advertising break*
Jordan: 3 years. 3 years of the same old shit.
*Jordan climbs into the ring and stands behind the referee's lifeless, broken body as Harrison Payne is being stretchered out*
Jordan: I let you people get into my head and look what happens: I lose! Well, I'm tired of losing, I'm tired of being a fucking loser! They were right, Jordan Bull fell off. I fell off when I started letting people tell me what to say, and what to do. This ends tonight. As of this vey moment, I am not your champion, I am THE champion. When I first arrived in the Precision locker room, I didn't get anywhere near the recognition I deserved. I worked my arse off for 2 and a half years to build a dynasty for myself, and all that was irrelevant through no fault of my own. It's fine for someone like Buster Gates, who is rich enough to buy his way into the title picture, or like The Blade, who gets his way through selling masks and t-shirts to stupid little kids and fat, ugly sweathogs who watch anime and all the other things that you internet virgins do nowadays. What about the actual talent, actual talent like me? I have scratched and I have clawed to get a glimpse of what it's like at the top of the mountain and every single time I've even had a taste of success it's been snatched away from me. No more, no more settling for second best. I'm going to prove that wins, losses, money, merchandise sales, birthright or looks mean nothing compared to extreme brutality. I am going to dismember, degrade, disrespect, decimate, destroy and dominate evey single person standing between me and whoever is unlucky enough to hold that Undisputed Championship. I am not just here to end matches, I'm here to end careers if that is what it takes to get that belt around my waist. I am the Alpha and the Omega here in Precision, the beginning and the end. Ryan Blake, way I see it, you have no choice; You either make me your number one guy, or I turn this entire company into a travesty! I am the cavity in the teeth of your promotion, I'm a cancer that is going to spread through the entire body of Precision and kill it if I don't get what I want. Just look at this poor son of a bitch.
*Jordan kicks the ref's head as he struggles to move*
Jordan: You crossed me, buddy, and now I have to make an example out of you.
*Jordan picks the limp body of the 5ft2 referee up by the throat. He puts him into position for the Package Piledriver and drops him once again. This time there is absolutely no movement from the referee once he hits the mat, he just crumples and the segment has almost become hard to watch at this point. The crowd can't even muster up the strength to boo Jordan anymore after his disgusting actions. Jordan stands up and looks with intense anger down the hard camera.*
Jordan: You know what I want Blake. I'd suggest you think long and hard before you make a decision that could endanger the careers of more employees. But, since this nameless son of a bitch is done for anyway...
*Jordan lifts him up once again and delivers a sick Package Piledriver before the show cuts to an impromptu advertising break*
