In the powerful economy that is Hollywood, Swingblade and his partner Rellik, who form the team of Swillik, have one last drink before they are set to head to Richmond, Virginia on a three hour flight. The two kick back on their leather recliners and sip on their club sodas, awaiting the time for Swingo to leave the comfort of his federation and head out to the former grounds of AWA... which has now obviously been closed.

Swingblade: "So what do you think of this whole Bar Room Brawl deal?"

Rellik: "I don't know what to tell you. You know as well as I do what Chain Reaction is capable of. He doesn't wrassle all that much, but he goes more along the lines of making you look like a fool. Jay knows how to play mind games just like me... trust me."

Swingblade: "Oh yeah. Didn't you and him go through that situation with Clive Windsor when Clive was working for him as a CiT?"

Rellik: "Yeah. And they escaped... which was actually surprising. It's the only two men that have ever escaped my traps. And it was a slew of them."

Swingblade: "So what I'm going to have to do is make sure I avoid anything that may seem fishy. Man, I wish you could come with me. Just so you can point out things that I might not notice that might seem a little odd to you. Something different, you know?"

Rellik: "Yeah... all I can do is wish you luck though. You're going against one of the best in this round."

Swingo downs the rest of his club soda and rises to his feet, shortly afterwards dapping Rellik down and heading out of the suite. After brushing through the halls of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. He pushes through the double doors which have been left unattended by the bell hops and enters the all black limousine supplied to him by the Executive Committee of the Wrassle[dot]Network.

Moments later, after being settled in and grabbing an ice cold Nestea from the chest in the back of the limo, the privacy screen slowly nudges it's self down. From the rear view mirror, the limo driver; Miguel, looks at the former UCE superstar and smiles.

Miguel: "Are joo goeeeng to teh airport?"

Swingblade: "Yeah. Let's try to make it choppy. I think I'm already late, and my flight to Richmond leaves soon."

Miguel: "Okay mang... joo don't have to yell at me mang... wanna blow one before we go mang?"

Swingblade: "Nah. I'm fine. Just make sure you speed it up. I don't want to be stuck in this limo for fourty five minutes trying to get to the airport when I could have walked there in fifteen. And please... for the love of God, close the privacy screen."

Miguel: "No probleeem mang... sheesh..."

He obliges and closes it, leaving Swingblade to himself for some inner thoughts. The fact remains that whether he wins or loses his match tonight against me, he is going to be in for a hell of a lot more than he may have expected. In fact, I'm not going to take it lightly on him at all. If he wants to get passed me and make it to the second round, he is definitely going to have to work for it.

Swingblade: "This is ridiculous..."

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