Sitting just in front of the bar tender on the other side of the counter sitting in a bar stool is... My GOD! It's Da Link himself!.. Link is wearing a pair of faded, grey jeans, and a black t-shirt, tightly fitting, to show off his hard worked and ripped body. He wears a pair of extremely thick soled black boots. They even have heels. They must add a few inches to his already tall frame. Da Link's been drinking. So he doesn't look in very good shape. Sitting for hours, he's been drinking away. Sitting in front of Da Link on the bar counter is a frosty mug half full of what is probably most likely his favorite alcoholic beverage.. Heineken.. Da Link grabs the mug and chugs down what was left in the mug then slams it down on the counter and looks at the bar tender with bloodshot eyes.

Da Link: Give me another one...

:~: Da Link pauses for a moment, running his fingers under his chin. Cocking his head to the side he realizes he hasn't caught this guys name quite yet. Da Link questions the man. He turns to Link, smiling widely, akwardly, before leaning down on his arms right in front of Link's face. Da Link pulls back, looking angrily toward him, shrugging his shoulders.

Bartender: My name is Arnold.. You are?

Da Link: I am Da Link... And now since we know each other, give me another beer and make sure that this one is better than that last one.

:~: The low growl ends up being a scream of rage, that sends the baffled bartender directly to the drinks. The camera pans back around to see Da Link finishing the remains of his ice cold beverage. With a sigh of satisfaction he turns to the camera.

Da Link: So, you guys wanted to follow me that bad... I'll speak to you after I get my drink.

:~: Stunned, Arnold, this ospicious looking bartender has forgotten to get Da Link's glass. He turns to Link, and let's off a desperate sigh, in an attempt to relieve some animosity. Eitherway, Arnold takes the mug to the fountain. He puts it under the Heineken part of it and pushes the part which reads push untill the glass is damn near to the rim.. Arnold then slowly walks back over to Link and sets it down in front of him trying not to spill it.

Arnold: There you go, Link.

:~: Da Link quickly snatches the beer off the counter and takes a large drink of it, before slamming it back down, spilling some of the contents of the mug onto the counter, where immediately Arnold is taking a rag and cleaning up the mess. Link looks at him, enraged, and slams his hand down on the counter.

Da Link: DAMN YOU! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? IT DON'T HAVE TO BE THIS DAMN CLEAN!!

:~: Da Link recieves a call on his cell-phone and Da Link quickly throws his drink down on the table and he runs out the bar as the scene ends. When we re-open we see a shot of a intersection that has a huge traffic jam.. Hours away from the airport, the ridicule that had been bestowed upon him in the gay pub, is just too much. He sets, with his jaws locked in anger. Cars are seen piled up for about a mile back from where the initial jam started..It looks to be about 11:20 PM at night on a summer Tuesday... The camera pans through the cars as many horns are seen honking.. People frustratedly shaking their hands and screaming profanaties, as if the people in front of them could fix this problem. It's dark out. But the streets are illuminated by the street lights, and the full moon above. The camera goes to where the jam started showing a two car accident involving a old blue Oldsmobile that looks to have been side swiped by a pretty new black Geo Metro.. Both cars are pretty much totaled. Many police cars, and ambulances are aligning the hallway, trying to sort out things. Policemen standing in their blue uniforms. Some are writing on pads. Others are helping with the mess. Paramedics are shown helping some people into the back of ambulances. Some in a stretcher, others walking under their own power. Passing traffic wizzes by on the other four lanes on this six way highway. Kids looking out the window, pointing, looking at the destruction. Two lanes of traphic have been stopped. The first car in the pileup besides the wrecked cars themself is a 2002 Blue Lincoln Naviagator with tinted windows..The camera fades to inside the truck.. Inside the truck Da Link is seen.. He is sitting on the drivers side with his seat belt on.. Sitting on the passengers side of the truck is the world-wide known world-class athlete, Drake Ruhwen..Drake is wearing a black muscle shirt, and khaki's. The two people sit there listening to the radio in the truck as Link sits nervously with his hands on the steering wheel very sternly and his teeth grinding together very hard.. He's frustrated, visibly, from waiting, and from the experience previously recorded. The trucks cab is dark. Not extremely dark. The moon illuminates from the small untinted part in the front of the truck. The rest is tinted. The truck has an extra cab, whereas the camera sits. Not knowing whether or not it's a camera man, it's a direct shot of Link and Ruhwen. Ruhwen reaches back, turning on a light. At first a blur overcomes the screen. Blindingly, it comes back into focus. The cab now lit up. Playing on the radio, is the Lil Jon and Eastsider's "Rep Yo' City" song. Link shakes his head and turns it off. Turning to Ruhwen he speaks.

Da Link: Well, another Pay Per View, another victory, another pay check. I beat some punks asses, I builted an army, and now, it's on to bigger and better things. End of story...

:~: Link smiles, reaching slowly into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarattes. Kool's. He taps them slightly on his hand, before sliding one into his mouth. Reaching down he picks up a Zippo, flicks his wrist and lights the cigaratte. Taking a long drag, he inhales deeply, before rolling his window down, and letting the smoke billow out of his nose and mouth, into the great wide open. He fixates himself back on the camera, clumsily smoking his cigaratte all the while.

Da Link: So Brett Archer drops the title. He's running scared. I can't believe this gorilla looking son of a bitch talked so much shit about me, but as soon as I come within reach, he runs like the little baby he is. But that's okay, that just opens my path to the North American Championship quicker. But I'll worry about that, when it comes to that time. Right now, my sole focus is on this, Brett Archer character. Archer, for the past week now, you've been running your newbie mouth like you're some big shot. You've been constantly bashing others. Well, I do appreciate Brett respect, but let me just go on the record to say, I do not need your respect. I do not need it, nor do I want it. I really don't care who he is, where he's from, or what he've done, you are a nobody to me as of this very moment. Sure, you may have pulled off an North American Title reign, big shit. Who did you beat? A bunch of nobodies. I can't even remember any of their names except for the Frost, but then again, we all know what happened between that match. So tell me exactly what the hell your problem is? What is your major malfunction? Why do you feel as if you can just come in here and shake things up? This is Insane Championship Wrestling man. There is no room for the bullshit he's pulling. He have to earn a name for himself before he go patting himself on the back. He has to EARN it! That's something that the world knows, he have failed to do. That is something, that frankly Brett Archer, is going to take a long time to do, because it doesn't happen with him. Nobody is going to respect him, like him, fear him, or anything but pity him when he steps into the ring, with the Da Link. For a rookie here, this is a pretty big step for Brett. He've had a couple of good matches, and now look at Arch, going against the most ferocious, relentless wrestler ICWF has EVER seen. I hope he's listening.

:~: Da Link smiles softly. He flicks his cigaratte out the window, re-situating, calmly looking into the camera.

Da Link: Brett's a special kid. You see, I'm not going about this match in the traditional Linkoln fashion. Oh no. I'm actually going to speak to him like a person. On a level field. I'm going to tell him, straight up man, you're out of your league. You can bleach out your hair, and spend all your time pumping up in the gym, but that still doesn't cut it. I don't care if you're the strongest man in this solar system, I am far to intelligent to lose to you Arch. I honestly don't see any characteristics about you, that stand out above mine. I mean, really, there's nothing special about you. You're bland, boring, normal. So you've got big muscles, that really doesn't mean anything. Big muscles do indeed mean power, but they also mean, physical ailments such as slowed reactions. They also hinder your movement. You've got to realize that, you're going in there with a lean, mean, killer. You're going in there with a man, cut to the bone with muscle, ranked with the scholars in intelligence, and off the charts with intensity. You can throw that weight around all you want, in fact, I want you to. I want you to start lugging that big ass of yours around, so I can use it as leverage. So you'll wear down, and then when you least expect it, I can take your big ugly head off with a superkick. I want you to try and devastate me with your big powerful moves. They won't kill me, thus you won't win. You'll have to be breaking metal with me, before you'll ever even get close to beating me. I am going to prove that I am indeed the toughest son of a bitch this wrestling world has ever seen, and nobody will deny it. You can't even deny it. Brett hate to admit it publicly, that I am the greatest, and now, you've ended yourself up in a match with me. Funny, how things work, right?

:~: Da Link just sighs softly. Rubbing his forehead, he looks down for a second, but then averts his attention back.

Da Link: Hell son, what did you expect? That you'd go unoticed by me? Or maybe that was your big spectacular plan. To catch me off guard, to piss me off, to get me in a match then shock the world. Well, shock the world you have, not with this astounishing plan that has unfolded before us, but your mere stupidity to land yourself in an Anarchy Rules match with Da Link. There is no escape for you big guy. You can't climb over, and leave. You have to beat me. You have to do, what no man has ever been able to cleanly do. You have to knock me down, and out, to the point that my shoulders are on the mat, for three seconds. That's a big job, and I don't think you're man enough to do it. You sure as hell aren't man enough to make me submit. That day will never come. But as for you, all I'd have to do is wrap those tree trunks you call legs up in a REAL sharpshooter, and you'd tap all the way to China. Honestly, do you want to get hurt out there? I am going to go out there and be more relentless than I ever have in my entire career. Do you want to be a part of that Archer? I really don't think so. But suit yourself. Show up if you want, but bring your will, so we can give your family your earthly possessions, and that North American title because your soul will belong to God, and your ass will belong to me. Am I insulting you yet? Good, I've only begun with you.

:~: Da Link stops speaking, for a few seconds. The camera then fixates itself on the road before us, as Link rapidly slows down, and begins to pull off of the road. Rumble strips can then be heard below the massive truck, as Link comes to a stop, and opens the door. A bright light comes on, as Link hops out of the truck. Staring into the camera, his ice-cold glare sends chills up you. Ruhwen moans obscenities and tries to catch some more sleep, as Link motions for the camera-man to turn it off as the scene fades to the end...