Static, then blackness....then a shot of a desk and chair, with the chair facing away from the camera. Championships cover the background, and there are papers on the desk. The chair turns around, and we see our subject, Ronnie McNeil, on the phone, hammering out an agreement to build another 4Q gym in his birthplace, Montgomery, Alabama.


....yeah...the spot next to that Advance...that's the one. Get me a good price, and let me know by the end of business Thursday so I can come down Friday and close in person. That's wassup. Aight Carlton...peace man.


RM: Lately everyone wants, desires, and maybe needs to paint me as a desperate man these days. I guess if they say I'm desperate, it gives them the excuse to spew out their false outrage and indignation at my actions as of late. But seriously....do I look like a desperate man? Do I act like a desperate man? Or am I acting like a man with a set goal in mind, and a plan that is being executed like the movements of a metronome...simple and plain, yet steeped in perfection? To justify your outrage, you would say the former....but the truth is the latter. There is no desperation in my eyes or in my heart...just the cold, fulfilling satisfaction of a task completed. That's all last week was, nothing more.

Ronnie takes another call, turning back around for a minute, before hanging up and turning back toward the camera.

Every word I said in that ring was true, and there isn't anyone in this company that can deny it. So what if I took out my pound of flesh on Talon? What's the difference between what I did and what he's doing in his fight with Senester? Difference is...you all love Talon. You want him to be your knight in shining armor. But in the end, Talon will have to sink to the depths of hell itself to even have a chance to defeat Senester, and the things he will have to do in that pursuit -should- be enough to turn you against him, but you won't. Fans are fickle. Announcers are even moreso.


To answer your simple minded questions...no, this isn't about a title match that I know I already have. Havoc was about settling a wrong, and sending a message. Heinrich got what he got because of him sticking his nose in a couple of my matches. He got what he got as a reminder to stay out of what's coming between his brother and myself. The match with Talon proved that I am more than capable of beating your precious champion any time we face off. The aftermath was a little retribution. Eddie getting showing the Flashing Lights was me protecting Talon from a little whining b*tch who has fallen under AC's little spell. Vanessa, Jason...I don't need your fake, fleeting respect or admiration. You don't need to understand why I do the things I do. To me, you're just as guilty as the rest are. And don't worry Nessa, I'll still be sending Hans back to your comely embrace after The Other Side...minus the All-Star title of course, but to you I will send him. Maybe you can put on that little naughty nurse outfit and get a rise out of him once I've choked his life away. Maybe you can even treat him like a little German doll and "blow" him up once I'm done deflating him in the middle of the ring. Good luck with that though...word on the street is that your "bobble" game is very substandard.

And now...this week's opponent. Logan Neilson. You've gone down a very treacherous path, buddy. You've managed to nearly alienate every friend you probably thought you had here in the company. Truth is, friendship is a word that doesn't truly exist in this business. People are friendly as long as you are useful to them. You'll learn that this week, because once we've done our dance in the ring, and you've been beaten, shown your Lights, and left laying, you'll know just how alone you really are. Consider your impending defeat to me this week your introduction to the lonely road of broken dreams. Try to enjoy your stay, and pray that there's a light at the end for you to reach.

-end feed-