[VOICEOVER] "The world of KC3 is indeed a bright one. After a successful debut in the CWF, he secured his position in the Golden Crown tournament. The Next Generation God did exactly what he told the world he was going to do. Now, the question begs to be asked. What will he do next?"
It is an overcast day on the Atlantic City Boardwalk. The temperature outside is fighting to try to reach 60 degrees. Our illustrious hero stands once again outside of the Steel Pier amusement park.
Instead of rain soaked solitude, KC3 finds the boardwalk is now swarming with people. The random mob walks up and down the boardwalk, looking at the various restaurants, going inside of the various casinos to more than likely lose their money. Despite all the commotion, KC3 sits calmly on the wooden fence that separates the boardwalk from the beach. He sits unmoving, like the eye of a hurricane.
"Last week, on this very Boardwalk, I merely told you that I was better than Dynamite Dynamo. I'm not even sure if that was his name, to be honest. I might have it backwards. However, that does not matter. He is but nothing more than a footnote in my history. He is in my rearview mirror. Last week, as I said, I told you what I was going to do. Then, at evolution, I showed you.”
Davison allows a sly grin to cross his face.
"This Will be the first of many, many “I told you so’s” going forward. Last week, I told you what I was going to do and I did it. Last week, I told you all that I was, and for that matter, still am, a commodity. I showed you all just a sliver, an iota, of the talent I have. “Skate or Die” folded faster than an origami artist. I didn’t even have to deliver my coup de grâce. I showed my dominance, but I am actually greatly saddened that my true brilliance has yet to be seen.
KC3 nonchalantly slides down to the boardwalk. He walks into the actual Steel Pier instead of remaining outside. The camera crew follows, as Davison makes his way in.
"Now, I feel that the men in the front office recognize their shortcomings in my match last week. This week, I have been given a much more..." KC3 pauses, carefully choosing his words. "...plentiful offering. They are giving me the opportunity to face a man who seems to carry himself as though he means something around here in Trent Steel. Additionally, I get to face a man who, thankfully, I might add, failed to procure the opportunity to by carried by myself at Golden Crown in one Reginald T. Rascal. I have to say, I feel as though my selection is here paltry at best. While Mr. Steel may have some modicum of renown, the same can most certainly not be said of Mr. Rascal."
Davison walks up to the first carnival game. It’s one of the ones where you have to put the basketball through the hoop. It’s simple enough, really. You just have to recognize that the basket is about two feet higher than a regular hoop.
"Hey, hot pants. How much?"
"Five bucks a shot."
"Five bucks a shot for a basketball that you buy in bulk for like, a buck a ball? Someone should call the cops on your ass."
"Listen, I ain’t got all day. You playing or not?"
KC3 reaches into his pocket and finds a five dollar bill. He holds it out and the attendee takes it.
"The thing about Reggie T. Rascal is that his very existence just irks me. You walk in here acting like this is a giant party? I don’t think so, pal. Look around, all you will find is pain. Unless you’re some kind of masochist, which if that is indeed the case, my friend, you’ve come to the right place, because I’ve got exactly what you want and I shall give it to you in abundance. "
Davison takes a split second to turn his head, lining up his shot. He hops in places as he releases the ball, a perfect arc that swishes into the net. Before the attendee can say anything, KC3 turns to him.
"Keep it. I don’t need your cheap ass shit anyway."
Davison turns and walks away, leaving the employee with five more dollars and a dumbfounded look on his face.
"There is a reason that this is called a business. It’s something that I hold very near and dear to my heart. One of the few things that my old man taught me when I was a kid is that this isn’t a friendship. This sure as hell isn’t a party. This is, as I will remind you a business. If you want to spend your time listening to crappy music and dancing like a trained elephant at the circus, you go on right ahead and do that. But I am in the business of not wrestling, but rather that of winning. Last week, if you weren’t busy rocking out to LMFAO or maybe playing "Dance, Dance Revolution" in the back, maybe you took a moment to see that I put Dynamo out without breaking a sweat. It was THAT " KC3 makes it a point to pause after each word for emphasis.."DAMNED" Davison pauses again. "EASY."
KC3 walks up to another one of the carnival games. It’s the one where you have to throw the darts and pop the balloons. He reaches into his pocket and places a couple of singles on the counter. The man puts three darts in front of him.
"You see, I am simply better than either of those two men, at quite possibly everything."
Davison then drops the darts, making it look as though it was accidental. As he picks them up, he scrapes the tips on the ground, hoping to sharpen the incredibly dull tips.
"My apologies, my good sir." Davison states in a clearly disinterested tone. "So, I just pop the balloons and I win a prize. Right? Or do you have some carnie trick where I have to get all three darts through a yellow balloon at exactly 1:37 PM on a Thursday before the night of a full moon?"
"It’s pretty straightforward, buddy. Two out of three to win."
Davison takes a moment to aim, then turns towards the camera and starts speaking as he releases the dart. The first pop is heard and a green balloon pops on impact.
"Trent Steel, I realize you are on a mission to find out what happened to that loveable, bag headed freak, Ataxia." The distain is clear in KC3’s voice. "We all know that homeboy is a psycho Twinkie with a rotten filling, and if I had my druthers, he would remain gone. The locker room is a better place without him amongst us."
KC3 tosses another dart while looking dead at the camera. Another pop is heard as the dart pierces its way through a red balloon.
Davison throws the last dart, this time the dart hits a green balloon, causing it to pop. KC3 just turns and walks away.
"Don’t you want your prize?"
Davison just keeps on walking, talking to the camera as through everyone else in the world doesn’t exist.
"Now, Trent, I want you to realize that I’ve no axe to grind with you. You want answers, you go ahead and rough up the Hostile Takeover. You’ve got no quarrel with me."
A dark smile crosses KC3’s lips. There is a fire in his eyes that lets you know that he’s up to no good.
"Which, in its own sick and twisted way, is what makes what I am going to do to you even worse. I recognize that you are the man with a name in this match. I realize that you are the opponent that is more dangerous to my progress around here. I recognize that I have to hurt you. It’s not that I want to, mind you. However, this is a business and it is my business to take out those that stand in my way. I don’t care if it’s Reggie T. Rascal. I don’t care if it’s Trent Steel. I don’t care if it’s Martin Luther King, Mother Theresa or Jesus fuckin’ Christ himself. I will beat you down. I will force you to your knees and I will make you grovel for mercy. Unfortunately for you, my friends, you will find absolutely none. "
Davison makes his way through a throng of people. Several people bump into his shoulders and he ignores them, even as some of them turn and call him names. It is obvious from the way he handles himself that he believes he is the single most important person on the boardwalk.
"Time and time again, I have shown my ability to back up those words because time and time again, I have had to prove that I am not as good as my father, but rather, I have had to be better so that I do not have to stand in the daunting specter of his shadow. We all have something that motivates us. For some it’s money. For others, it’s fame. Still, some do it for the love of what they do. Me? I want it ALL and I will stop at nothing, I will do whatever it takes to make it happen. Which, unfortunately for you, means you don’t have a chance to defeat me, because when you’re God, you don’t have to break the rules? YOU MAKE THEM!!!"
KC3 puts up his hand to the camera, signally for them to stop following him. He turns around and disappears into the crowd as the camera fades to black.