As well as the return of Havoc and the plethora of surprises that came along with it, including the dramatic resurfacing of Butch Parker, the HWA Live Shows also make their return.
The cameras are on air at one of these famous shows and Butch Parker is making his way out to the ring, still maintaining his face-covered beard that he sported at Havoc. He's also clad in a pair or jeans and an official "Butch Parker - Made in Scotland, Original & Best" t-shirt.
In addition to his attire, Butch also has a different look on his face than HWA fans are used to seeing lately. He has his mojo back, he looks menacing, determined and confident as he slaps a couple of hands before jumping effortlessly on to the ring apron and climbs through the ropes.
Butch walks around the circumference of the ring for a couple of laps, soaking in the crowd's adulation until he leans through the ropes and motions for a microphone. He raises it to his lips and goes to speak but is cut-off by resounding chants of his forename over and over again. He tries to remain poker-faced but can't help but allow himself a wry smile. Once the chanting dies down again, Butch eventually speaks.
(Butch): I'm hooooome!
Another pop emanates from the crowd and a "welcome back" chant soon begins to sound off.
(Butch): Funny that a week before Survivor Series, WWE sees HWA's Havoc ratings after being off the air for 6 months and have to quickly bring in Sting just to get people to watch the WWE Network. How much is it again? I can't remember?
(Crowd): HWA! HWA! HWA!
(Butch): So anyway moving on... It's no secret HWA has been very quiet as of late for one reason or another. Some people disappeared and aren't coming back, some people disappeared and are back. Some people we just haven't heard from at all. For all his misguided views and errors in judgment, I think we can afford Michael Dredge a bit of leeway and I honestly hope he recovers from his heart attack.
Butch waits for another loud mixed reaction for the HWA Hall of Famer to subside before continuing again.
(Butch): However I most definitely thought I would have heard from our world-beating, all-conquering, undefeated, undisputed, undeniable World Heavyweight Champion by now.
Butch leans his weight forward on the top rope whilst still keeping the mic within speaking volume and he looks at the camera. All the while the rowdy audience in attendance boo vociferously at the mention of Michael James.
(Butch): What's going on Michael? Where are you? You've normally got some long, drawn-out, narcissistic and slanderous promo waiting in the wings to bore everyone to death with, reminding everyone how much you hate the Parker family. You usually never miss an opportunity to call me nothing, to call my wife a skank, but ever since I beat the holy hell out of you, Senester and Shakir last week, not a peep!
Now I don't really care why you've been so quiet but you did accuse me of being a paper champion, not rising to the occasion when the time was right and that when you became champion, you would be the one the belt deserved. Remind me where you were during HWA's hiatus, Michael. Were you fighting for HWA's right to be viewed, for you to be given the respect you so rightly deserved, were you earning your plaudits as the rightful king of the mountain? As far as I'm aware you've been in hiding, smoking cigars and drinking sake for the last six months.
Whilst you were sitting at home doing nothing, Michael, I was doing a little soul-searching because yes as I'm man enough to admit, you had my number before. You had me bested and you had me second-guessing myself. But that's behind me now. I was preparing myself both mentally and physically for the fight I knew was going to come. I'm not the same Butch Parker you faced the two times before Michael and I think you know that already just from the look in your eyes when you seen me staring across the ring at you at Havoc.
There is something you need to be privy to Michael, and that's that I'm a different kind of lion now. Not wounded, not licking his wounds. I'm hungry, pissed off, f***ed off with a score to settle and a point to prove. At Road to Ruin you're going to step foot into the Lion's Den; my playground, my domain and there'll be nowhere for you to run. Just you, me and eight sides of steel. I'm going to make an example of you Michael and for every comment, look, thought you've ever had about me and my family there will be a punch, a kick, a suplex, a slam and a submission hold.
Now, I don't care if you cut a thousand promos between now and then or the next time I actually hear from you is when I see you emerge from behind the curtain at the pay-per-view; it doesn't change what's going to happen. You and I will enter the Lion's Den, you'll put up some sort of a fight but its not going to be enough. I'm gonna either knock you out or I'm gonna make you tap out and I'm going to take back my World Championship. But I won't be done. I'm gonna make your life f***ing miserable, Michael. As you've done to me, I'm going to make you pay a thousand times over for what you've done until that perfect reflection you seem to think you see when you look in the mirror is nothing more than a pile of shattered pieces that can't be placed together and even if they could, everyone will still see the cracks.
Butch goes silent for a moment, walking absentmindedly around the ring, recollecting his thoughts.
(Butch): There's nothing more I need to see that I've not said emphatically already, Michael. If you want to show your face tonight, in a promo tonight or tomorrow or you want to make a statement of intent of your own at Havoc, go ahead. The world's waiting on what you're going to say Michael, eager to hear the thoughts of the World Champion who's first actions since HWA disappeared from the world's televisions was to grope a woman you thought was my wife and then get your ass handed to you. The rest of the world may give a damn about what you have to say, Michael but I sure as hell don't, so have at it, have it.
And with that, Butch tosses the microphone nonchalantly on to the mat and slides out of the ring, his music blasting out the PA system as the crowd chant for him. He backs up the ramp, slapping another couple of hands, making a gesture around his waist representing the HWA World Championship belt as the scene fades to black.
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