The scene opened with a sudden view of Sean Parker’s face, framed by the relentless blaze of the scorching California sun. He was holding his phone in selfie mode, filming himself as he paced back and forth. The exact location might’ve been unclear, but the intensity on Sean’s face sure as hell wasn’t.

(Sean): Wow, Lunatik. Took nearly a week and a half to get even a word out of you, and now you just can’t stop talking.

Sean smirked sardonically, pausing to glare into the camera before resuming his pacing. His movements were sharp, restless, like a caged animal.

(Sean): You know, Lunatik… if it wasn’t evident from your last promo that you’re friends with Maniac, it definitely was after this one. You’re nothing but a concoction of contradiction, ignorance with a dash of predictability. Confident? You bet your f*cking arse I’m confident. I’ve worked too hard and fought too long not to be. The fact that you even think I had anything handed to me, that because I’m a Parker, because I had an incredible teacher, means I had an easier road to get to where I am than you, just shows how blissfully ignorant you really are, Lunatik.

Sean’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on the phone. He stopped pacing for a moment, planting his feet firmly as if readying for a fight right then and there, as he was speaking to Lunatik right in front of him.

(Sean): You wanna talk about opportunities? Alright, let’s break it down. You were once the guy who had not one, not two, but three championship matches in a single night. Remember? Fatality 2005. You couldn’t climb to the top of the world, you couldn’t be the All Star, and only just managed to stay under the spotlight long enough to get yourself a win. But what happened then, Lunatik? That same spotlight you were supposed to be the cornerstone of was too bright for you to handle, wasn’t it? Like every other opportunity you had, when the spotlight was on and the pressure was real, you pissed it up the wall and folded. Face it, Lunatik, when the going got tough, you just got going, didn’t you? You took the easy way out, just like every other so-called veteran who ran for the hills when things got a little too dicey.

Sean’s voice rose in volume and intensity as he leaned closer into the camera, emerald-green eyes unwavering.

(Sean): You know, I hate flogging this dead horse, and I know everyone else is by now, but you need to hear this, Lunatik. If you think getting handed championship matches during the golden era of HWA when legends like my uncle, like Buff Bridges, and Michael Dredge were running the show, even remotely compares to the trials and tribulations I’ve gone through just to stand here, then you really are living up to your name, Lunatik.

You had your chance at superstardom when the business was booming and the spotlight was shining on everyone. Me? I dragged myself out of a wheelchair and have been fighting tooth and nail for nearly a decade to get to this point in my career so don’t try to compare your past Temu glories with the grind I’ve been through, because they don’t even come close.

Sean took a breath before continuing.

(Sean): As for thinking that Butch built HWA’s Academy to make things easier for me? You’re just proving my point about you even more. See, when Butch built the Academy, the HWA was on its knees because guys like you deserted the company when we needed you the most. He didn’t build it for me; he built it because the HWA was bleeding out, with sponsors wanting nothing to do with us, revenue drying up, and no one willing to stick around to help. Butch and Wisdom poured their life’s savings and livelihoods into the Academy because it was the only shot we had left to save the HWA from dying a slow death.

Sean’s voice momentarily cracked, his expression a mixture of frustration and anger. He spat the words with venom and through gritted teeth.

(Sean): You think it was easy? You think there were friends and allies lining up to give me a hand? No! I didn’t have Jeremy by my side, I didn’t have Michelle, no Sarah, no Erica, no Lunatik, no Maniac, no Hans, no Price… just me, Matt, Sensei Kiriyama, and a single f*cking ring. That was HWA! That was it. I had fought, scratched, and clawed for two years to learn to walk again just to witness my dream almost collapse on top of me!

Sean glanced away momentarily, looking down at the ground, feeling the weight of his own words on his shoulders. Eventually he looked back up.

(Sean): And that’s not even covering the late-night training sessions, the shameless canvassing to potential venues to let us fill out their community centers, begging for a chance to show my worth.

He paused again, letting his words sink in before delivering his next verbal blow with conviction.

(Sean): So don’t you dare stand there on your f*cking pedestal and presume that I’ve had it easier, because you can’t even begin to fathom the grind, the sacrifices and the fights I faced head-on just to keep the HWA’s heart beating. You want to talk about who had it rough? You don’t even know the half of it.

Sean’s eyes didn’t leave the camera as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a cold, determined rasp.

(Sean): But don’t get me wrong, man. I’m glad you’re back. It’s good for business, good for the roster, and yeah, it’s good to see the numbers up. But don’t mistake my welcome for respect, Lunatik. Whatever shred of that I had for you before now has been eviscerated. You’re back, sure, but make no mistake, this isn’t some glorious homecoming for a returning hero, no. You’re just another guy who couldn’t hack it when it mattered most standing across the ring from the guy whose hard work, blood, sweat, and tears made it f*cking possible.

Sean’s posture straightened, and he raised his chin along with a raised, gesturing, almost admonishing finger pointed at the lens.

(Sean): As for upping the ante? The fact that you’re so eager to take things to the extreme proves one thing and one thing only. That you need stipulations to beat me. Just like Maniac, you need chaos and gimmicks just to level the playing field. Me? All I need is the sound of the bell and my own two hands.

With that, Sean lowered the phone slightly, letting the sun glare into the shot as he stared down the camera.

(Sean): That's the difference between us, Lunatik. I may have been the one in a wheelchair but it’s you that relies on crutches. I’m the f*cking foundation. I’ll see you in Seattle.

And with that, Sean sharply ended the feed, the scene abruptly cutting to black.