time: wednesday evening

day: november twelfth

Matthew Engel: "You know what, I disagree that you think it's funny we're in the main event again. If you want to spend your time laughing or planting your lips on Robinson's ass because you believe he knows how to draw a crowd, that's fine by me. But I'm under the realization that this was always meant to be, from the moment I received the order to take out Kaleb and Payton. 

You were meant to have your vengeance, Scott, and I was meant to come back and reclaim my World Title. This is how your world ends, Scott. Fate."

(It's not quite as busy as JFK normally is. But then again, it's the calm before the store when Thanksgiving weekend comes around. I take another sip of my Citron, and look back into the camera.)

Matthew Engel: "Do you think I honestly care between you and me who is good and who is evil? We've both done good and evil deeds. We both have been protagonists and antagonists. This topic of discussion would have been appropriate for the last pay-per-view, considering the circumstances that surrounded our personal match. But, that's clearly over and done with, and now? 

We have become the exception. You can go down the card and pick out who truly is good, who truly is evil, but between you and me, you can't make that distinction. And I enjoy that thoroughly, because I'm not the man that fits the mold, and I definitely will not allow myself to be typecast. I am versatile and will adapt to any kind of environment. That's what I offer to you, and the PWA. If you enjoy sitting on your pedestal and trying to claim 'goodness' because a tragedy happened to your family that you had nothing to do with, then go for it Scott. In the mean time, I'll be trying to claim my World Title by breaking your fucking jaw."

(A lady has a seat next to me. She instantly recognizes me, but I don't pay her any attention. Another sip, and another cold stare.)

Matthew Engel: "I never claimed you were a pushover, Scott. I was simply stating facts, and sharing with you my distaste for our current champions, with Riona as the exception because she has shown throughout the months she's been here just how good she is. Her record and title reigns speak for themselves. But, Kyle Stevenson? You and I both know just what kind of a punchline he is.

Jacob Figgins? He's still wet behind the ears, and somehow managed to win the Grizzly Beer title. The champions of our federation are supposed to represent our best talent, and right now they don't.

Which brings me to you, Scott. Yes, you survived the London's Burning match. You claimed your gold, but with the odds stacked heavily in your favor, there shouldn't have been any other result. But your poor record, the fact that you've been dominated by our Intercontinental Champion more times than I care to count, and the fact that since you've won that World Title you haven't been able to put together much of anything resembling a coherent sentence speaks volumes about what kind of champion you are and that piss-poor representation reflects the PWA.

Don't call me a company man, because I'm far from it. But this has been my employer for nearly a year, now, and there is a reason why I'm still here. It has been because of the fierce competition, the work ethic from the Front Office and everyone here, and when I see someone like you representing the federation's best employee, it makes me sick.

Truly. Or maybe it's the Citron."

(The lady next to me lets out a small laugh. I pay her no mind.)

Matthew Engel: "I mean, if you didn't feel remotely the same way, Scott, you wouldn't have spent half your promo trying to defend yourself. You could have let that one slide off your shoulders, or told me to shut the fuck up and wait for this weekend. But, the fact that you needed to go in-depth about the people you have beaten and create excuses for your sub-par record DOES show us, ladies and gentlemen, how insecure you truly are -- not only about your World Title reign, but your career here in the PWA as a whole.

And I'm sorry, but we don't need that kind of stink coming from our World Champion. 

A few names you mentioned, Kindred, Fire, why do they even matter? They barely made a footprint here in the PWA, and you want to use them as bragging rights to help explain why your record should be better than it actually is? Fuck sakes, Scott, I thought I pegged you for somebody a little smarter than that.

Well, I'll go the tomato route on you, and let you know one thing. There's a man that calls himself Nightmare and claims he's been the most dominant singles wrestler in the last three years. His record is impressive, no doubt, but there's only little blemish that he'll only bring up a few times when someone tries to call him out on his bold statements: he HAS been pinned once in singles competition. And guess who did it?

Me.

Scott, if you want to try to justify your record in the PWA and show me just why you belong as World Champion, do NOT throw names like Kindred and Fire at me, names that haven't mattered in the past six months. Throw a name like Nightmare at me, and I might reconsider. But you can't. You simply can't."

(I finish my Citron on rocks, and ask the bartender for another. He begins to pour it.)

Matthew Engel: "Some people think you had the unfair advantage? Shit, Scott, do you think I honestly care about what Duff did to me before our match? If I had any ounce of concern about him, or my ability to beat you at that moment after I was engulfed in flames, I wouldn't have continued. But I fucking manned up, something Stone has yet to do, and gave you my absolute best. I never said once that you had an unfair advantage. I never complained once about that incident one bit. I had that coming, Scott, and I faced my crimes.

And I gave you and the fans what some are calling the 'best shortest' match of PWA history.

Holy shit, kid, you really want to throw your disadvantages in my face in the light that you actually won? Fuckin' A. Sure, I don't chain smoke, sure I'm ten years younger than you. Sure, I'm faster, better, and more agile than your entire family put together. And why couldn't I come out on top? Hmm, that's a good one. Let me answer it for you.

Scott, you are ten inches taller than me and weigh nearly seventy pounds more than I do. In a match where speed, agility, and endurance get thrown out the window, there was ABSOLUTELY no reason -- whether you're older and in poorer health or not -- that you shouldn't have won. That match was about raw strength, and who could last longer in the flames. And I lost, I fucking lost. I accepted that the moment I woke up in a hospital bed.

But we're back to square one, because I've beaten you and you've beaten me, and you don't have a locked cage to save you. As far as I'm concerned, we're in a normal World Title match to decide who truly is the best between you and me. I promise you Scott I'm going to bring everything I can possibly bring to make sure I walk out World Champion. My talent and dedication will go a long way, and you're going to find yourself out-smarted and out-matched on nearly every turn. But that's fine, because you can look back and say you did beat me once."

(The bartender alerts me after I took a pause there that the lady one seat down from me paid for my drink. I turn to her, thank her, and toast my glass. I take a rather large gulp, and turn back toward the camera.)

Matthew Engel: "God, I could care less about the name Kelser. That name hasn't mattered since Dustin decided to no-show his own retirement match. So as far as I'm concerned, you're right about any Kelser not taking your strap from you. But Jamie? If he were here still, I'm sure he'd have a few things to say about that considering Farm and Harm Express pretty much dominated you and Duff in a tag match, an environment you claim to be so good in.

As for me?

You go ahead and put your career on the line, Scott. You can fade out like the rest of your family has.

I do not forgive.

I do not forget.

I'll be seeing you."