Da Link: Hey your Next North American Heavyweight Champion is here...

:~: Da Link looks at the ground and back up to the air..

Da Link: You know, I've defeated man after man after man. Won match after match after match after match. All for what? These non-respectful losers to come out and tarnish me with their words. Not only that, but I have to deal with the consistent pay matches, in order to earn my spot back at the top. But now, after a few weeks, it's all falling together, and my legacy is soon to expand.

:~: The tourists seem to slowly approach the ranting Da Link. Link pays no attention and just stares at the ground.

Da Link: Yeah, I got a DAMN legacy....and then what? I thought I'd earned my stripes, but apparently not. Sure, it's for the North American Champion, but I mean Jesus, it's against Brett Archer of the FTF. I mean really, that's so pathetic. The matches before now have been a here's your milk little boy, now go back to bed type of thing. Whereas the victory has been handed to me, and then it's on to destroy the next chump. What do I want? You can say you have everything Linkoln, the fact is if I haven't the ability to do what I did when I first came here, then it's not worth it. I don't need peoples respect, admiration or love. I hate people, I hate the human race. More-so the scum, such as the FTF and Brett Archer. Who I beat, and how many times I beat them doesn't matter. What matters is what I have around my waist, and I'm declaring at this very moment, for the only other time, besides when I first came here, that I am going for the Intercontineal Championship, as soon as I get the North American Championship, as soon as I beat the living shit right out of that waste of skin Brett Archer.

:~: Finally, the tourists start to hear them as the tourists gather around. Link whips out a Cuban cigar and tosses it in his mouth. He runs a lit zippo in front of it and inhales, causing the cigar to burn a bright orange. He tucks the zippo into his overcoat pocket and violently blows smoke out into the air.

Da Link: Brett Archer may be a legend in his own right, but he will never be great. It takes talent to be great, Archer has little to none. Which is so true. I couldn't believe that this moron seen so clearly, that Archer and his group has done nothing but cause controversy, and got on ODJ's mind which is alot, seeing as how he is the owner of this Corporation. He just won't go away. You may think I'm not what I use to be, and hell, you're right, I'm ten times better than I use to be, and that can only mean, numerous bad bad things.

:~: The tourists take pictures of Link and whisper to eachother. Link puffs on his cigar as he continues to speak..

Da Link: You see Brett, nobody knows the reason for your constant pestering. Maybe you get off on it. But I for one, will stand for it no longer. I will stop at nothing to put an end to your incessant blabbering, and your playground school games. All you're worth to this federation, is a good laugh at your ignorance. Yet, you haven't figured out about our Title Match.. You're not a good wrestler, and you've never been a worthy champ. Hell, you disgrace ICWF by being here. You disgrace it even worse by belonging to the Fuck The Fans group, who insults this federation, almost as much as you do. How far has the ICWF went down hill? When Brett Archer is referred to as a 'The Best of the Best', I look for the world to end at anytime. Fuck that, Brett's world is comin' to an end come Friday. You had best get use to blood, and pain. I'll put you through more than you've ever been in, in your entire life as we enter into that Anarchy match...

:~: The crowd of 50 some people continue taking pictures. Link takes a deep drag of his Cuban and turns his back to the camera. A plume of smoke rises above Link and he cuts through the crowd and towards the building. The camera follows and so do the people. Link pays no attention to his surroundings as he travels to the Wrestling School owned by his mentor. He takes one last drag of his Cuban and tosses it behind him to the rabid public. They fight over the cigar as Link blows the smoke into the morning air and enters the small building. To the immediate right is the trophy case that King made for Link in the future. In it, is a replica of his UTMWA Hardcore Title. Da Link steps over the maroon carpeted boundary wire, and takes a glance at his title. Link rubs his hand over the glass case and peers around the room. A crowd of tourists and their tour guide leer at the mainstream famous man and his shiny belt. Link sighs and turns to the camera and take pictures as he laughs and the scene fades to black.