What's yours is mine.

As the signature intro to Monday Night Fusion finishes up, we are immediately taken to the parking garage where a nice, clean, black limousine slowly rolls up into view. The fans pop as they usually would considering any big time star could be in the back of the vehicle. However, it's a given who it is when James steps out of the drivers seat and opens up the back seat door. The boos of the crowd roar throughout the arena eventually reaching the parking garage as the number one contender and now co general manager steps out of the car with a huge grin on his face. Which of course he has a lot to smile about.

Schmidty
Ahhhh, you smell that James?

James
What the taco bell?

Schmidty
No, it's the smell of a new day here in CMV.

James' nostrils flare as he sniffs the air.

James
I don't smell it.

Schmidty who's still enjoying the make-believe aroma with his eyes closed an all eventually opens them and chuckles at Jame's remark lightly tapping him on the shoulder signaling him to follow as the two make their way into the arena where James leaves the keys with an employee to park the Limo. The camera follows the two as Schmidty walks into the halls like his shit don't stink. He's on top of the world and he wants everybody to know it.  A line of employees on both sides of the hall just stand and stare as Schmidty continues on down. All scared as to what he'll do now that he has official power over them all. He ignores most, until he stops right in front of the catering table where a staff member is putting some baked chicken strips into the salad bowl.

Schmidty
Hey, idiot! Do you think everybody wants chicken in their Caesar salad? No. Trauma is a vegan. Take that out. You know what. Keep it in there. Eat it. All of it. The whole salad.

At first the man is hesitant, trying to figure out if Schmidty is serious or not. But after 10 seconds of Schmidty's facial expression not changing, he decided it's best to swallow his pride and keep his job. So he takes a fork and sticks it int he bowl. But, Schmidty stops him from the embarrassment by putting his hand on his shoulder.

Schmidty
How are you going to eat it with no dressing?

Schmidty takes the bottle of dressing, unscrews the lid and pours all of the dressing into the bowl. Knowing that one of the worst things on the planet is eating a salad with too much dressing.

Schmidty
Now eat it.

The man again is hesitant but eventually begins to eat it as Schmidty watches for several seconds.

Schmidty
Oh by the way, you're fired.

And smacks the bowl upwards watching as the salad and dressing flies all over the poor guy.

Schmidty
Clean yourself up and get out......guards.

Security come onto the scene to escort the guy out as Schmidty and James continue on down the hall. As they turn the corner to go to the gorilla position, they stop to see The Outlaws and Shane Thomas chatting it up.

Schmidty
Hey!

All three men stop what they're doing and look at Schmidty, awaiting what he has to say. Which takes a good 30 seconds of him just staring a hole into each one of them. Until finally, he smiles and begins walking up the steps of the Gorilla Position. But, he stops at the top and looks back at them.

Schmidty
You three are fired. Get out.

And with that, he doesn't wait for their reaction and heads through the curtain towards the very heavy boos from the crowd.



The boos continue as Schmidty comes walking out alongside his James. Both men scouring the crowd with blank looks on their faces before heading down the ramp, gathering more Heat than Miami. As they reach the bottom, Schmidty tells James to fetch him a mic as he rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring, meeting James in the center, grabbing his microphone. Now, as he stands in the center ready to address the CMV Universe, he gets nothing but a massive wave of negativity hitting the ring hard. Deafening almost. The hatred for Schmidty is real. He's a bully who gets what he wants and that's exactly what happened last week and they know damn well he's going to talk about it. So the only thing they can do to fight, is boo him. Make it impossible for him to talk.

Schmidty
Shut up......

The boos only get worse.

Schmidty
Silence!

Schmidty gets visibly upset but quickly pushes that frown away with a smirk and keeps his cool.

Schmidty
Ahem.......muted.

He raises his hand in the air and closes his eyes for a few seconds with a smile on his face almost as if he actually muted out the crowd.

Schmidty
I......am.....the greatest professional wrestler on the planet today........

He smiles, pausing for a moment before continuing, again ignoring the massive, heated, crowd reaction.

Schmidty
You are all looking at not only the man who owns half of this brand but.......the NEXT Undisputed Champion.

James claps.

Schmidty
You see, you all are just mad because your little hero Troy Meyers failed. He came out here as the underdog, and he did good. He did great even. That is......until I entered. It was over before it started. The gods have written me in to do great things and unfortunately, among those things, it isn't losing to Troy Meyers. Who am I? Bannon? Rhys Matthews? No. I'm the guy who's been saying the same thing since day one. I'm the greatest professional wrestler on the planet today. I didn't just say it. I lived it. But every single week, I was never recognized as the best. No. Everyone wanted to be ignorant and cheer for your false idols. Like Paul Divine. If Paul Divine was the sensation he makes you believe he is, why the hell is he walking around with nothing around his waist and a backstage pass to Absolution? If Xander Slate is so much better than me then how come he has to try and beat 29 other men to earn an Undisputed Title shot while I have a set date with the Bloody Brit? Huh? How about we all get real for a moment and realize that I have Monday Night Fusion by the balls and it's been this way ever since Validation. All those months, it's been MY SHOW! And as I stand here, with Absolution on the horizon, it's not just my show anymore. Because I am the show. I'm what makes Fusion whole. What makes it the A show. The greatest thing on television since Friends. We are successful folks, because I wake up each morning. And come Absolution, it'll only be that much more obvious when I walk out with the Holy Grail of this company in my possession.

He lowers the microphone, smiling away.

Schmidty
And don't think I don't see you Sean. Mr. Sean Kent of Fatal Decision. You got yourself a little victory over our very injured Undisputed Champion and thought you were hot shit. Walking around like your time is now. Well news flash for you bud. You're time isn't now. It's not tomorrow. Or the next day. Your time is never. Because I know your type. You're the type of guy who's limits are low. You're peak is the tag team championship and you fucked that up huh? How you going to brag about beating an injured Chris Andrews when the guy beat you AND your partner in a handicap a few months ago? You call me a fluke but you're a walking, talking example. You found some sudden urge to fight the authority a few weeks back when you were upset about losing your titles. And you did good trashing Johnny's office. But he's not the only authority around here anymore and you insulted me. Boy, that's a mistake. Because not only can I fire you but I can do much much worse in this ring.

His smirk fades.

Schmidty
You should of stayed irrelevant. But, you just had to open your mouth and now, you're killing yourself. Because tonight, it's going to be Sean Kent taking on the GREATEST......PROFESSIONAL.....WRESTLER ON THE PLANET TODAY! Welcome to your last days kiddo.

He smiles and winks at the camera.

Schmidty
But don't worry Asshole, I can't forget about you. Your partner beat up Andrews last week, so imma give you the same opportunity. But just remember, when you beat him, don't forget the situation. You and Kent. You're no where near my level. So don't buck up to something much much bigger than you. You may beat Andrews but that doesn't matter. What matters is when I beat Andrews at Absolution. He may be injured which most of you think may taint my victory. "Where's your pride Schmidty." But the way I see it. Andrews is an idiot and just like Sean Kent, he's killing himself. He's nothing more than a wounded horse. And I so happen to be the one with the shotgun.

And with that, his music hits as he drops the microphone, acting as if he's shooting an imaginary shotgun at the camera and walking out of the ring with James close behind as the show fades elsewhere.

[Promo Ended]