We fade in on Ataxia sitting flat on his back looking up at the camera on a dirty concrete floor. He's wearing his usual ring attire. His eyes still crying and looking blood shot.

“You can't make me do it you know.”

He doesn't blink. We hear some murmuring off camera.

“I don't want to do it. I don't want to do any of it. Why should I do it? What is the point? Why are we here? Who spilled my beer? Potato! Po-Tah-Toes! I've already made this boy into one of us. Why do I need to face him again? Oh for a number one contendership to what? A title? A glorified weight belt that I use to care about. I don't care anymore. I don't want it anymore. I don't want anything anymore. I want to fucking die...”

The murmuring continues.

“You don't understand. How can I make you understand? How? Now brown cow, let me clarify this to you so you will understand. I use to care about CWF. I really did. It was my home. It was everything. I gave it everything. Every fucking ounce of who I am and what I do. Every fucking god damn second of my life was to CWF. And what has it gotten me? I thought I belonged. I thought I cared. I thought I mattered. Then I see it in their eyes. They found their new pet freak. They found their new thing to identify with, and without me none of them would be worth the salt they cry out. I made Duce Jones who he is. I brought Shadow out of the darkness. I made Dan Ryan seem important by facing me in those damn finals! Where is my god damn reward? Where is my tick or tate...WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GOD DAMN FUCKING HOLY HIGH HELL THANK YOU YOU FUCKING WELCHING GOD DAMN BASTARDS!!!”

He takes a deep breath. The murmuring continues.

“I don't want to do it...I don't want to do this...It isn't right! It isn't fair! Let me go. Please. Let me go...Just let me fucking go. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. They deserve it of course. Every last wrestler on the roster from past, present, and future deserve to feel my pain...but I...I...I don't want to...Let me go...Let me go...”

The camera dutch angles and we pan around seeing that Ataxia is looking at something on the ceiling. It's a child's drawing. A stick figure with a bag over it's head. We finally hear the murmuring. It's coming from the ceiling.

I'll never let you go...I'll never let you go...Turn around your back on each other...what a good idea...break a promise to your mother. AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA....