Reality Bites - The Reprise
Dulling the Senses

. . . . . The scene fades into your picture. Darkness envelopes you. Then suddenly, a spotlight, bright, shines down from nowhere. Looking up, the light blinds you for a moment, then your eyes adjust. Standing in the spotlight is Skarrphace himself, dressed in an all-black Armani suit, much like the one from before, only this time, he has a black mock turtleneck on underneath, and against the darkness, it would appear as if you almost only see his hands and his head. He has a pair of sunglasses on and he seems to be looking down. He speaks slowly, as the silence echos with his words . . . . .

Skarrphace: Kronos. Listen. Yours words fell on my ears, Kronos. And what amazes me the most is that you actually had the gall to say to someone how much of disadvantage it was for me to compare you to a normal human being. YOU PROVE NOTHING. I'm not going to begin by talking about how I'm going to destroy you at Chaos, no, that would be too....predictable. I'm not going to talk about how you are leaving the NWWF after this match with me, regardless, as YOU say, of the outcome....no, that would be too....predictable, wouldn't it, Kronos? No, I think the best thing for me to do in this situation is simply make a fool out of you...but then again, I don't have to try TOO hard, now do I? You certainly are doing a great job of that yourself. So, I'm going to make a few statements of fact to you tonight, Kronos. Tonight, another dose of reality will slam you in the face, but it's not the kind of reality you think I'm going to show you, no....it's much different. You've painted a picture in your mind of how unbeatable you are. When, in fact, you are the most beatable man I've ever had to face in my career. Why? Oh...let me count the ways.

. . . . . Skarrphace moves a little to his right, spotlight following him, and then he stops . . . . .

Skarrphace: Now, let me ask you a question, it's rhetorical, so don't bother answering it. What exactly was funny about my first interview this week? What amused you regarding the life and death scenarios you witnessed? Was it something I missed? I thought it was both triumphant and tragic. Maybe you didn't take the time to actually LISTEN to my words or SEE what I showed you, Kronos. Maybe you actually thought it wasn't worth your time. And you see, that's one of my points....you're a lazy wrestler, Kronos. Lazy and worthless. You don't know how to beat your opponents because you don't think they have a chance against you, so you don't bother to learn about them. Word got around to me that you thought that I was not speaking truth about you in my interview. In this business, Kronos, truth is in the eye of the beholder. You claim to be created, not born. I say that's bullshit. Your gimmick might force you to claim these things, but you are a man, with flesh and bone and blood, but obviously not much brain. You were beaten. You will continue to be beaten. Why? Because you contradict yourself. All the time. You say I am worthless, but yet I have your attention, don't I? I cause you to run shoots because you are so pissed at my words, yet, you don't know exactly what it is I'm saying. The reality of the situation is you never had a chance against me, Kronos. You don't have a chance against me. You know it and I know it. So why don't we cut through it, alright? You're leaving the NWWF for good after this match, this last event. You think you're a revolutionary...you think you're a superstar. What you really are is a person who has failed to win over anyone because he's constantly berated them. Nobody cares about you, Kronos. You may think they do, but they don't. Nobody cares if you leave. Nobody cares that you're from Area 51. Nobody cares that you're from Celestine, or whatever God-awful place it is you say you come from. They just see you as a has-been who doesn't know an interview from a hole in the ground. But the worst thing about is....they feel sorry for you. But you know something....I DON'T.

. . . . . Skarrphace moves a bit to his left now, and then stops and continues . . . . .

Skarrphace: Your interview....word after word of it....you lashed out at me, trying to sound realistic, but all you did was further the belief of how very disconnected you are from the Reality. You want to throw the things which I claim dear to me, my heritage and my pride. You want to throw those things in my face as proof that you have some reality in you. You don't. You think I don't know you, Kronos? You think your story has fallen on deaf ears? How the fuck can that be possible? Your fucking interviews last for a day and a half. You're so goddamn long-winded, you really should run with Gore on the next Presidential ticket....the loud mouth and the passive-aggressive faggot. What a ticket that'd be. Of course, you'd get some sympathy votes, as you probably will when it comes down to the winner of our little sware'. You're leaving. What does that mean to me? It means you're yesterday's news, Kronos. Yesterday's news that will get thrown out with the trash come Sunday. You claim to have reached some status of immortality. Immortality is a state of mind, not something you attain. You might think you are immortal, but no one is. NO ONE IS IMMORTAL, KRONOS, NOT EVEN YOU. Actually, especially not you. I've tasted your blood....my fists have pounded your flesh and bone. Your eyes have rolled back into the back of your head on several occasions due to my blows and I know that to be true. You are mortal. You will die, as will I. But you at least have a chance to gain some respect on Sunday. And I know that's what you want. You want to be respected. You consider yourself a visionary, but in truth, you just want the respect of the NWWF. You want Shane Henderson's respect. You want Kip Reed's respect. You want MY respect. And I will at least give you that....I will say that you will at least have the chance to earn it from me. I give away nothing. You may try and earn it. You can forget the others though. Everyone in the NWWF Front Office...the Roster of the NWWF....they've lost all respect for you, any that they had, which probably wasn't much. They lost it. You caused it to happen, too, so just shut your mouth.

. . . . . Skarrphace steps closer to the camera, stops and looks dead into it . . . . .

Skarrphace: One last thing before I go, Kronos. You claimed several times in your interview that you cannot be controlled. Here again is an example of how very little you pay attention to things in life. There is always a puppet master pulling the strings. You may think you have control, but you don't. You do know who the ultimate puppet master is, don't you? God himself. God himself pulls the strings, he sets the world in motion. Everything happens for a reason, Kronos. You were born into this world, however much you'd like to think you were created in Area 51 as some project for world domination. God brought you into this world, and He will be the last one to take you out. But not the next one. Because I plan on being the next one. But you seem to think you cannot be controlled, when all this time you are actually being handled in a way you cannot possibly understand. Words...my words, to be precise. Set you off, didn't it? Pissed you off, didn't it? Yes, it did. Control is such a wonderful thing isn't it? Listen Brett, I will say this one time. So listen up. I AM THE GODDAMN PUPPET MASTER. I AM THE MAN BEHIND THE SCENES MAKING YOU SWEAT, MAKING YOU WORK, MAKING YOU BLEED. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A PAWN, SON. YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND THIS. YOU ARE A JOKE TO EVERYONE IN THIS BUSINESS. YOU ARE A FUCKING JOKE AND WHEN YOU LEAVE, NO ONE WILL FUCKING NOTICE. NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU. NOBODY CARES IF YOU DIE, NOBODY CARES IF YOU LEAVE. Chaos will be here soon. In more ways than one. You simply cannot know how I'm going to enjoy beating your ass and making you feel the shame of your last match in NWWF history being a loss to The Only 1 That Matters. It's as inevitable as Christmas. Merry Christmas, you fucking loser. I'll see YOU on Sunday.

. . . . . Skarrphace stares into the camera, then, walks off, the spotlight shutting off, and the scene fades to black . . . . .