The Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre looks so lovely from the outside. Lovely enough for me to want to stay there instead of go all the way out to Richmond, Virginia in America to do a match in the Robert E Lee Trailer Park. Blah. Anyway, Lazareth, Athelstan, and Athelstan's assistant for the time being, the rotting corpse of Chloe who was shot in the head around two weeks ago see me off as I step in to the limousine supplied by the Executive Committee of the Wrassle[dot]Network.

Lazareth: "Good luck, Chainy... make sure you bring it home."

Athelstan: "I'd tell you good luck, but in all honesty, I don't want you to succeed. I want you to come crawling back to Australia on your knees begging for mercy. And when you do? Haha. When you do, I'm going to kick you dead in the mouth. Because you suck. Right, Chloe?"

Chloe: *dead noises*

Athelstan: "See? Even your little girlfriend agrees."

"It wasn't my girlfriend", I say. With my head shaking in complete disgust over The Prototype's antics, I tip my hat and close the door to the limousine.

We take off to the nearest airport with full intentions on arriving in due time. Personally? I feel the need to get extremely intoxicated prior to my arrival. Sure, I might be flying first class, but I hate airplanes, and I hate being high in the air. I'm not afriad of heights or anything, but I don't necessarily want to strap a parachute on and jump out of the hatch with the fear that my body might smack against a rock. Shut up. There's always the possibility.

The limousine driver drops the privacy screen and looks back, just the same way Miguel did to Swingblade. I, on the other hand, am a much nicer person. Why be rude to someone that has your life in their control? I don't find the reasoning behind it, so I'll take my chances and play face with the guy.

Stan Daniels: "Oy, mate!"

I spew a mouthfull of white wine all over the back seat. "Stan ****ing Daniels!?", I shout. I had no idea that he is associating with the Wrassle[dot]Network anymore. He must have been hired for limo duties after his EC role. "What the hell?"

Stan Daniels: "I'm ya limo drivah for tha evenin'. Any certain music ya want?"

"Nah", I reply with a shocked look on my face. I don't want to make that big of a deal out of it... but the guy is a legend. "I'm not really in a music mood. So how long is it going to take before we get to the airport?"

Stan Daniels: "Oy! I'd say 'round five minutes, mate. You gonna rip that bloke to shreds tonight, roight?"

I chuckle for a moment. "Haha. Absolutely, Stan. Absolutely."

Kicking my feet up on the seat running down the side of the limousine, I sip what is left of my white wine until we eventually arrive at the airport. Stan reaches in the trunk of the all white stretch limousine and hands me the one bag I brought - my street fighting clothes. After a hand shake, we disperse.

Sighing, I make a comment to myself. "This is it, Jay. One night in Richmond, and all I have to do is beat up a guy that I used to have in the Canadian Wrassling Alliance when it was a normal federation. Shouldn't be too hard, even though he's gotten a hell of a lot better..."

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