-[ The scene opens up inside of a locker room area. B-Pac, Triple X, and Sweet Cheapshots are all sitting around sorting through papers that looks to be applications. B-Pac tosses a stack of at least 100 applications on the ground and wipes the sweat from his forehead. ]- B-Pac: " Okay, I am beginning to get pissed off. I have searched through almost as many ELITE applications today as Michael Miller has handed into WoW... and thats alot. So far I have ZERO people qualified to become ELITE. " Cheapshots: " Don't give up now. There has to be at least one person that submitted an application worth looking into. " Triple X: " Hey... I think I found one... check this s##t out. " -[ B-Pac and Cheapshots walk over to Triple X and read the application that he has in his hands. They then look to each other with a smile and nod their heads. ]- B-Pac: " You know, we may be onto something with this one... I wonder how he'll get over... do you think it's possible to bring him in right away? " Triple X: " Well, everybody knows who he is... but he's not cleared to wrestle just yet. He has to wait until his contract runs out with a certain federation before he can compete BUT that doesn't mean that he can't step in and help ELITE out a bit before then! " Cheapshots: " Hmm... We gotta bring this guy in ASAP. It's not very often that you get a guy like this asking to join your team. Let's give him a call and see if he has any plans for Monday... " -[ B-Pac then pulls his cell phone from his pocket and dials the number listed on the application. The scene fades to black... ]- LATER ON IN THE DAY... -[ B-Pac is seen walking out into a huge garage type building and up to his car. Standing beside the car is Triple X with a huge smile on his face. ]- Triple X: " How cool is Malice gonna be? I can't wait to see the look on people's faces when we get old-school on their asses. " B-Pac: " They ain't ready for it... they're too busy planning their own so-called surprises to remember just who we are and how we run our business. Anyway, X, I'm headed out. I'll catch up with you and Cheapy later on... then we'll do that thing we got planned. I reckon that'll piss off more than a few people, too. " Triple X: " Oh, no doubt about it. People get mad at those better than them. I guess that's why everyone hates us so much. Peace. " -[ Triple X heads off and B-Pac opens the door of his car and sits in the driver's seat. He leans back and props his feet up on the open window. With a grin on his face, he begins to speak. ]- B-Pac: " So, Jecht... I see you've come out of hiding (or being knocked out as you seem to always be). But tell me something... did I say that I was talking to you with every word that I spoke? Don't put yourself in the position that you have no right being in. As a matter of fact, I only spoke briefly about you... everything else was about someone else. I guess you're still touchy from being attacked and beaten and knocked out and thrown in the middle of a corn field somewhere out in the middle of Oklahoma so often that you can't seperate certain things, huh? You act as if you're all that I have to worry about. Believe me, you're not... I've already put you in your place. What about it? You want a street fight? Falls count anywhere in the building? Put it on the card... it shall be done. And not only am I going to 'Sign' your ass again, but I'm going to claim yet another victory over you. How am I going to do this? Will I do it all by myself? I've done it before and I'll do it again. History repeats itsself... much like you being abducted by aliens every time you cut a promo and have constant out-of-body experiences. " " Jecht, have you forgotten who I am? I certainly haven't forgotten who you are... or who you were supposed to be or whatever you're trying to pull lately. Just remember the score as it stands... B-Pac 1, Jecht 0. Why don't you break that statement down into little pieces and disect it to your liking. After all, you don't have much else to do besides think of ways to take what others say and throw them back in their faces. Or maybe you could get together a group of all of your friends (even if they have NO SKILL ONESOEVER) and make yourself a little stable of jackasses like another that we know of has done. But you'll probably go all out and say that you're ready for ELITE and that you can handle ELITE by yourself... but you're not ready for ELITE. If any man thinks himself skilled enough to take on ELITE, let him step forth so that he may be slapped in the mouth for being the dumbest son of a bitch with breath in his body. ELITE is the best and greatest of the best and greatest. No weapon formed against us shall prosper. Now take that thought to the graveyard and ponder it's many meanings, you son of a bitch. " -[ B-Pac shuts the door to his car and starts up the engine. It roars and echoes throughout the garage as his wheels spin and he shoots off out of the exit and onto the street. Just then, an old greasy, ugly, scruffy looking mechanic with "M. Miller" on his name tag walks into view of the camera with a wrench in his hand. The man reaches his hand down the back of his pants and scratches his butt for a few seconds... he then sniffs his hand and laughs. He takes the wrench and licks it lustfully as if it were a man's penis. The man then begins to bend over and runs the wrench down his back and towards his anus but before he can do that disgusting act in front of millions on television, the scene fades... to... black (THANK GOD!). ]-

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