A sinister laugh is heard over the speakers. The lights go out. There is an explosion in the ring. The lights come on, and Darth is standing there. He is holding something in his hands.
Darth: Latino Chicken Shit. I knew you would back out. That's why I gave you a tag partner. You see, Backwards 7 hasn't yet agreed to invite me to share in his title shot. And why would he. No, he's smarter than that. He wants PJP all to himself.
There is a pause.
Darth: I, on the other hand, could care less about PJP, or his title. I didn't attack him to get a title shot. I attacked him because he was there. You, Latino Chicken Shit, I attacked you because you're a fraud. A nobody. A weasel. And you're proving it right now. But that's OK. You won't get very far...holmes. Not without these.
Darth holds out his hands and opens them. A number of lug nuts fall to the mat. The exact number cannot be determined. But it is clear that they are from Latino Heat's lowrider. As the last one hits, the lights go out and there is another explosion. When they return, Darth is gone.
*The cheese-o-tron shows an image of Latino Heat's lowrider making a turn out of the parking structure, when it's left front wheel falls off. The lowrider skids to a stop. Asside from the vehicle itself, no one is hurt.*
