A hand slaps a countertop twice. “Two shots, please!” a voice says, in front of the person we see two shot glasses being set down. “Enough.” Says the voice in a grumbled tone we see a dark liquid with steam coming off of it. A hand reaches out to pick up one of the shot glasses and begins bringing it up to his mouth. He stops for a moment and instead brings it up to his nose and smells aroma, a grin forming across his face signaling that the smell is a quite pleasurable one.

We pan out and can now see a grin across the face of none other than The Rocket. “I only drink the finest beverages in the world. Why wouldn’t I? Think about that for a second… I am a billionaire, a multi time Champion all over the world and… Contrary to what my opponents claim those reigns DO matter.” He says with a grin before taking a swig of the dark liquid. “Let’s talk about the two rapscallions that will be facing me… Yeah, that’s right! THEY will be facing ME!” He says setting the shot glass back down. “Tony Johnson, you ARE the North American Champion and much respect to you.” He nods his head. “You have been the Champion now since October of two thousand and fifteen.” He claps his hands together with a grin on his face. “That is six months, man! And you know what that means? What it says to me is that you’ve faced anyone that’s truly worthy of that Championship.” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing. “Now, I know what you’re thinking and you’ve got a right to think that way… For now.” He says smiling. “I know what it means to hold that Championship, there is a special bond, a special history between that title and I.” He takes another swig of the liquid in the shot glass.

“The North American Championship is a stepping stone to the title that everyone wants.” He nods his head up and down. “It’s a building block to greatness and you are on that road, you are but due to unfortunate circumstances beyond your control… Fair or not, merit or not, you were thrown into this match.” He shrugs and continues. “But you know what? You’re the North American Champ, it shouldn’t matter if you were thrown in the match or not because as a Champion you SHOULD be ready to defend the title at any time.” He looks down and points to his very expensive fossil watch. “I caught your little promo that you cut and you want to know what I got from it? I got that you’re afraid and you should be, you don’t have to be pinned to lose your Championship and I were you… I would be cherishing every moment that I have with that Championship.” He picks up the ICWA National Heavyweight Championship and hugs it close to him. “I cherish every moment I have with this belt because it signifies something that no one can ever take away from me.” Once again taking another drink and this time finishing the last of the liquid inside the first shot glass.

“But ultimately… Ultimately you really don’t matter.” He says grinning as he continues. “Because, the only thing that people want to see is Christopher Kleen and I rip each other apart.” He taps the side of his head. “You didn’t think I forgot about you did you, Chris?” He says reaching for the second shot glass and hoisting it up. “I would like to make a toast. To you Chris, may this match not mentally and physically murder all that makes you think you’re good enough to be the Heavyweight Champion of Genocide.” He takes a swing and set the glass down. “Because when you and I finally get inside that ring, damn Tony Johnson, I am going to make sure you eat every single word you have EVER said about me over the years.” He smiles and nods his head. “For years, I have listened to you run your mouth all over the world not just about yourself but me and everyone else in this company and even after I beat you in our first encounter and you STILL didn’t shut the hole in your face, I knew… Boy did I know that you and I were going to be destined to beat the hell out of each other until one of us is finished.” He points down toward the counter top. “This match? This match is going to be the end of one of us and if I were a betting man, I would bet that the guy that’s gonna be done is going to be you.” He says with a grin across his face.

“You see, Kleen… Over the last few years I have watched you.” He nods his head up and down. “Yes, I have watched you do nothing but talk about how great you are or how many times you’ve been the Heavyweight Champion.” A look of disgust comes across his face. “Check it out, the guy walking around gloating and boasting about being a Champion or how many times he WAS the Champion is really no better than someone that’s never held a title in their career.” He pauses for a moment to reflect on his words. “After a decade and a half in this business, I have finally learned what it means to be truly be a Champion.” He points to the camera. “You aren’t a true Champion, Kleen, and you never will be.” He shakes his head. “See, you are everything a Champion should NEVER want to be. You claim that my win over you means nothing to you?” He scoffs at the thought. “It means more to you than you’ll ever let on… In fact, my win over you the very first time we met is the driving force behind the ‘push’ you’re using to get yourself to the Heavyweight title.” He grins for moment and takes another swig of the dark liquid. “I am the one guy in this company you fear because I have your number and you know it.” He nods his head up and down and points to his chest.

“Deep down, where you never thought anyone would look? That’s where you know everything I have said is the true.” He shrugs his shoulders up and then back down again. “Kleen, I’m going to beat the living hell out of you and then I’m going to regain the North American Championship.” He brings the shot glass back up and lifts it into the air. “I want to make a toast, to Anthony Johnson and Christopher Kleen may you both understand that it’s NOT personal but that it’s all business.” He brings the glass down to his mouth but stops for a moment before taking a drink. “Except for you, Kleen, with you this WHOLE thing is personal. Cheers to you both.” He takes a final drink of the liquid in the last shot glass and sets it down next to the other empty one. “Oh and in case you thought I was ‘drinking’ on the job… Guess again.” He points to the camera and we see the Starbucks logo on the wall. “Expresso, I don’t drink alcohol.” The camera pans back and he stands up and begins making his way to the exit.

“See you boys at the show… Oh and Johnson! Make sure that belt is shined up for me.” He winks at the camera before turning and heading back to the door. “See ya soon.” He says as we fade out.