"Cemetary gates" plays as the arena darkens and the Dark Lords make their way to ringside.
Monroe: Well, why don't you just open the damn show? It's all about what you want anyway, isn't it?
MarcuM: Are you gonna tell them they can't?
Monroe:. . .
They step into the ring. Grimm pauses to glare out at the audience who is unsure how to react. He smirks and begins to speak.
"I am the devil."
The fans begin to boo. Grimm smiles a little wider.
"And I am here to do the devil's work."
"So let me get this straight: Capt. Sammitch doesn't like the way the Dark Lords conduct their business? Well isn't that just too damn bad. I don't recall asking for Sammitch's permission to do a god damn thing. You would do well to remember, Sammitch, that at Wargasms it was not the Dark Lords that were injured. It was not the Dark Lords that surrendered the match. It was the so called Sudden Death Connection."
Monroe: Well, to hell with the man's career, right? Why should that matter to anyone?
MarcuM: Taking this a little personally, aren't you?
"Now while we may have been allied at one time, those days are over. For the Dark Lords have tested you, and found you wanting. The Dark Days are here, Sammitch. and my Hog of War, Pig Iron, has something special planned for you in the days to come. A special gift of VIOLENCE hand crafted just for you. So bring your "mystery partner," Sammitch. Do your best against Louie Bastardo's thugs. Because if you make it past them, the Dark Days will be waiting for you."
"But now I have a special message for someone. You all know him. He is your world heavyweight cheese champion. the big cheese himself, Joe Mama. But I like to think of him as David.
David, as you lay in that hospital bed at night, feeling the pain in your neck, the tingling in your veins, the numbness in your arms and legs, don't despair. Don't run from the overwhelming sense of loss. Embrace it, David. Embrace the pain.
I know that there are a lot of people right now, talking to you and telling you lots of things. Your doctors, your friends, your family. Hell, I even heard that Rob Kamphausen himself came down from the ivory tower of Phausen Entertainment in downtown Roboken just to bring you his well wishes. I heard that Louie Bastardo, your old manager, has been calling every day just to check on you.
But don't listen to them, David. Don't listen to what they have to say. As they beg with you and plead for you not to return to the ring. Don't listen.
Don't listen to your body. Don't listen to the cracking sounds as you attempt to turn your head and realize you cannot. Don't listen to your limbs when they tell you they aren't able to move. We know they can. They will. They must.
Don't listen to your doctors when they tell you that you will never step into a ring again. That your career is finished. They don't know you like I do, David.
Don't listen to your woman. Did she fly down from boston, David? Stepping silently into your darkened hospital room and failing to hold back those delicious tears? Saying "Don't do it. Don't go back. Don't get in the ring again." She hasn't looked into your soul like I have, David.
Listen to one thing, David. Listen to your heart. Your heart that cries out in pain and anger for vengeance. Blood vengeance that will only be resolved in one way.
For we both know that for men like us, this can only end in one way. Here, in the middle of the ring. in one on one physical combat. As you're leaving the hospital, tear off that neck brace and stand up from that wheelchair that would define the injuries of any normal person.
When you get home, reach into that travel bag and remove that BIG GOLD BELT that symbolises all your hopes and dreams. The belt you dreamed about wearing as a child. The belt that you worked so hard to attain. That you wear so proudly. Ask yourself, is it worth it? Is this hunk of metal and plastic worth the physical domain that we are about to enter.
We both know the answer to that, don't we? For the path we walk is thorny, through no fault of our own. It is dark and narrow and only a few can survive the trip out the other side. Be one of the few, David.
Come back, David. Come back and face me. I'll be waiting.
October 31st, David. All Hallows Eve. On that day, I will finish you. On that day, the man, the myth, the legend, Joe Mama becomes just another victim of the Grimmlock!"
Monroe: The man is seriously injured. He can't possibly return.
MarcuM: He knows that. He's taunting him on purpose. He just doesn't care.
Monroe: This is sick.
Grimm continues:
"But first, the Dark Lords have one more piece of business to take care of tonight. . .that being the Allied Powers and the World Tag Team Titles in the fifteen foot high Hell in a Cell!"
The crowd begins to cheer at the thought of the spectacle to unfold before them later tonight.
"Now the last time the Dark Lords and the Allied Powers faced off. . .things were a little different."
Grimm looks over at Darth who nods and shrugs his shoulders while mouthing "I'm sorry."
"It's ok. That was settled. Things worked out."
Grimm looks at Chesty as she and Darth share a wicked grin.
"But tonight, things will not work out for the Allied Powers. For tonight the undefeated streak comes to an end. Inside the fifteen foot high structure, JLA and Howdy will feel their skin tear. Their bones break. Their veins burst and spill their contents inside the ring.
Do you remember the last time the Dark Lords were inside a steel cage, JLA? Bibbo and I-Man do."
The Lords smile and nod as a whole.
"There will be nothing to save you tonight. No security guards. No pedantic lawyers and contract details. Nothing but pain and agony. Because tonight the Allied Powers become the latest pair of roadkills on the Dark Lords' hitlist.
JLA. Howdy. The Dark Days are here. Abandon all hope."
Darth: "And fear the darksiiiiiiide."
The group finishes as they await their music to start up again. . .
