The End

Good evening ladies and gentlemen!  Thank you for joining us here tonight.  The events of the last few months have been unusual to say the least, with IWF closing its doors and along with it, Masset’s hall of fame career.  We’re in Masset’s hotel room where it’s as empty as a politician’s promise.  The door swings open AND IT’S MASSET!  IT’S MASSET!  BAH GAWD, HE’S HERE!  MASSET’S HERE!  HE’S STORMIN’ INTO THE ROOM LIKE HE MEANS BUSINESS!  RICK’S RIGHT BEHIND HIM!  WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE THOSE TWO UP TO!?  DAMN THEM!  DAMN THEM TO HELL!

MASSET: Oh yeah, Rick, we got a new narrator, so don’t be alarmed.

RICK: Narrator?

MASSET: Never mind.  

MAH GAWD!  MAH GAWD!  RICK DOESN’T KNOW WHAT MASSET’S TALKING ABOUT!  HE’S A HOSS!  DAMN HIS BLACKENED SOUL!  THEY’RE DOING A PROMO!  A PROMO!

MASSET: Rick, this is a dream match for me.  Roberts and I have been talking about a one-on-one match for years.  We’ve finally gotten to that point, and I don’t want it to go to waste.

MASSET WITH THE EXPOSITION!  MASSET WITH THE EXPOSITION!  NOW WE’RE ALL CAUGHT UP!

MASSET: And besides.  I may only be 38, but I have a lot of mileage on these tires.  I’ve been working part time since about 2009, and I think it’s about time to shut ‘er down for good.

RICK: Man, I don’t know what to make of this match.  Definitely the definition of bittersweet.  Paul’s actually been in pretty rough shape.  You know how he hates to have other factors make decisions for him.

MASSET: Yeah.

RICK: I’m hoping he’ll find peace with it all.  Maybe he has, I haven’t talked to him very much since everything went down.

MASSET SITS DOWN ON THE DESK CHAIR!  HE PUSHES ASIDE THE MESS WITH HIS FEET AND HE RECLINES!

MASSET: It just seems surreal that it’s come to this.  The last…God, ten years I’ve been battling my own motivation to go out there night after night.  I felt in 2005 that I had conquered everything there is to conquer, won everything there was to win.  I grew tired of it all.  I was still just 28 years old, still well in my prime, but all I wanted to do was take a break from it all.  So I did.  For two years I did nothing, happy to have called it a successful career.  But it’s funny.  I just wanted to quit, but when I did, I immediately wanted nothing more than to go back out there and perform.  

RICK: Life’s funny that way.

MASSET: No kidding.  I was physically fit, I just needed time away from everything.  When I came back, I suddenly was unstoppable.  Won almost four dozen matches in a row, several titles, and I was more dominant than I ever was.  I suppose that makes sense.  I was, after all, in perfect physical shape and had a renewed mentality.  That ASW run was something else, man.  People talk about being “in the zone” but I don’t think you can be in the zone for over a year straight.  But I felt I could do no wrong.  Mind you, I was still going up against stiff competition.  Some well-decorated hall of famers in their own right.  

RICK: So what happened?  Get burnt out again?

MASSET: Heh…that’s the thing, I didn’t.  A revolt basically overthrew the company and it sank, like something out of a poorly written book.  After that, I just…I don’t know, felt directionless.  I wanted to compete, but I had nowhere to go.  Suddenly six YEARS had gone by, and I had basically accepted that my time had left.  I was past my prime, I was out of the business for so long that the game had changed so much, and while I knew I was still relatively young and could compete, I had accepted my fate and was willing to begrudgingly retire for good.

RICK: Well I’m glad you didn’t.

MASSET: I have Roberts to thank for that.  He’s the one that hauled my butt out of retirement and talked me into joining the CRW and IWF.  But you know, my time here has been so lackluster, I really don’t know if I should be thanking Paul or not.

RICK: You kidding me?  Yeah you’ve had your share of losses, but you’ve put on some excellent matches too.  I’m pretty sure you still have that #1 Contendership title lying around here somewhere.

MASSET: Heh, please, that was just a stupid bit of fun I had.  Buying a championship replica and duct taping the words “number one contender” on it?  Who does that?  

RICK: Well, even if you didn’t dominate or win titles, it’s still been fun.

MASSET: Oh, I’m not denying that.  But the good thing is, I can now retire on my terms.  Had I not come back, I probably would’ve forever had that itch to return that would never be satisfied.  I came back, scratched the itch, and I feel like I can finally call it quits for good.  

RICK: You know, you talk like you’re already sitting on a beach in Hawaii.  You still have a match to prepare for.

MASSET: Oh, I know.  

The door is kicked open AND IT’S SNOW WHITE!  SNOW’S HERE!  SNOW’S HERE!  SNOW’S HERE!  SNOW’S HERE!

SNOW WHITE: The hell…?

MASSET: New narrator.

SNOW WHITE: Sounds familiar.

BAH GAWD, SNOW THINKS I SOUND FAMILIAR!  THAT SUNUVABITCH, WHAT’S HE EVEN DOING HERE ANYWAY??

SNOW WHITE: Well I’m here, I came as soon as I could.

MASSET: What do you mean, as soon as you could?  I called you on the 9th to tell you we need to meet to discuss strategy.  The ninth.  Of January.  That was so long ago, I have no idea what I needed to talk to you about.

SNOW WHITE: So I’m free to leave?

MASSET: No!  Look, my final match is coming up, and we need to go out with one more bang.

SNOW WHITE: Final match?  How many times are you gonna retire?

MASSET: This is the last time, I swear.  

SNOW WHITE: We’ll see.

MASSET: So are you in?

SNOW WHITE: Sigh Let me see what I can do.

SNOW WALKS INTO THE BATHROOM AND CLOSES THE DOOR BEHIND HIM!  WHAT A COWARDLY ACT THAT IS!  DAMN HIM!  DAMN HIM TO HELL!

RICK: What do you expect him to do?

MASSET: I don’t know, but he has a knack of pulling something helpful out of thin air.

RICK: I mean, he went into the restroom.

MASSET: I don’t question his methods.  You want a drink?

Masset goes to his mini fridge and PULLS OUT A ROOT BEER!  BAH GAWD THAT ROOT BEER HAS BEEN IN THERE FOR DAYS, IT MUST BE STONE COLD!  STONE COLD!  STONE COLD!  STONE COLD!

MASSET: Holy hell that’s distracting.

MASSET THINKS I’M DISTRACTING!  HE LOOKS ANGRY!  WE MIGHT HAVE A SLOBBERKNOCKER ON OUR HANDS!

The bathroom door reopens and SNOW WALKS OUT!  BUSINESS IS ABOUT TO PICK UP HERE!

SNOW WHITE: Okay, so I talked to my brother Berry.

RICK: Why’d you go into the bathroom to do that?

SNOW WHITE: I do my best thinking when the turds are flowing.

RICK: I…am sorry I asked.

MASSET: So what’d Berry say?

RICK: Wait, wait, wait, hold up once more.  Berry?  That’s your brother’s name? Berry White?

SNOW WHITE: Yeah?

BAH GAWD, RICK'S LOOKING AT MASSET!

RICK: Is he like Snow, or is he…you know…pleasant?

MASSET: Oh God no, he’s horrifying.  But he gets things done, so for that I respect him.  A few years ago, my opponent kidnapped Snow and I had Berry help track his whereabouts.  I’m actually somewhat excited that he’s willing to help me out now for one last hurrah; he’s annoyingly skilled at what he does.  So Snow, what’d he say?

SNOW WHITE: He said to go f*** yourself.

MASSET: …

RICK: …

SNOW WHITE: So I’ll see ya later.

MASSET: Woah woah, that’s no help! You said you’d help me!

SNOW GROANS LOUDLY!  BAH GAWD, IT SOUNDED MORE LIKE A GUTTURAL YELL THAN A GROAN!

SNOW WHITE: GAAAAHHH, fine.

SNOW GOES BACK INTO THE BATHROOM!  MASSET HAS HIM WHIPPED LIKE A GOVERNMENT MULE!

MASSET: That’s it, I’m getting a new narrator.

BAH GAWD, I’M BEING REPLACED!  WHAT A TRAVESTY THIS IS!  AS GOD AS MY WITNESS, MY HEART’S BEEN BROKEN IN HALF!

SNOW WHITE: Okay, I called Berry one more time.

MASSET: And?

SNOW WHITE: He said he’ll meet you at the Solomon Pond mall food court in an hour, and to go f*** yourself.

MASSET: Wait, he’s already in Boston?  How does that work?

SNOW WHITE: …I’ll be in the car.

Snow walks out the door, aggressively kicking it open as he passes through.  Rick and Masset hold back.

RICK: So what’s your game here?  Why are you getting Snow’s brother to help you at all?  I just don’t get it.

MASSET: This is the last match I plan on ever having.  A match I’ve been looking forward to for years, I want to do everything I can to make sure I’m ready.

RICK: And your normal routine won’t do that?

MASSET: Special occasions call for special measures.

The door is kicked open.  Snow walks through.

SNOW WHITE: Aren’t you guys coming yet?

MASSET: You said you’d be in the car.

SNOW WHITE: I say a lot of things. Now let’s go!

Snow kicks the door open and walks out, then turning and kicking it closed.  Masset and Rick give in and head out the door.  We fast forward to the trio entering the mall.  They head to the food court and begin scanning the crowd.  Snow, however, scuttles excitedly in the direction of the Cinnabon.

MASSET: Do you see him?

RICK: I don’t see anybody that looks anything like Snow.

MASSET: Oh, he doesn’t look like Snow.  Short stature, yes, but Snow is very pale.  Berry, is much darker.  Black, in fact.  Don’t ask.

Rick had is finger up inquisitively, and he immediately drops it.

MASSET: Ah, there he is.

Masset moves toward a table where…Bizzaro-Snow?...is seated.  It sure seems like Snow from a Bizarro World.  He’s of midget stature, but he’s black with solid white sunglasses and leather jacket.  Rick follows a few steps behind.

MASSET: Berry?

Berry talks with the same gravelly voice Snow has.  Indistinguishable, really.

BERRY WHITE: Well if it isn’t the old, retiring, space-wasting, death-inducing, fat lazy dumbass bastard sack of crap.

MASSET: …I’m not fat!

BERRY WHITE: And who the crap is this?

RICK: Uh, hey, the name’s Rick.

Rick extends his hand to Berry, who does nothing.

BERRY WHITE: You’re, what, Masset’s life partner?

MASSET: He’s a good friend of Paul Roberts, but has been helping me out ever since Paul got injured.

BERRY WHITE: Hmm, a mole from the inside, we can work with that.

MASSET: What?

BERRY WHITE: So you have access to the enemy camp?  Are you ever searched before you come into contact with him, or might you be able to…slip something into his drink?

RICK: What are you talking about?  I’m friends with both people, I’m not sabotaging anyone.

BERRY WHITE: Good…good, stick to that angle, it’s important to establish plausible deniability.

Masset sits down at the table across from Berry.

MASSET: Can I buy you lunch?  There’s a number of options here.

BERRY WHITE: No, I brought my own.

Berry holds up a plastic bag and sets it on the table.  He pulls out a hammer, a small bucket of crabs, and what appears to be a foot-long meatball sub and plops it onto the table.

MASSET: Uh…so anyway, what I was looking for from you is some help with this match.  I don’t know if you can get me a promotional stint, or maybe help with training.

WHACK!  Berry smashes a crab with the hammer with such ferocity, it makes the table bounce.  Pieces of crab and shell go flying, and Berry picks out the meat and noisily slurps it down.

BERRY WHITE: Mmm..no.  Slurp. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do for ya.  Belch. You see…Slurp…our goal isn’t to raise you up…goddamn this is good.  No, our…slurp…our goal is to bring Roberts down.

Masset and Rick exchange glances.  They look at the disgusting sight of Berry eating fresh crab.  Masset thinks for a minute, trying to tune out the sloppy sounds of Berry eating.  Masset puts his hands on the table as he thinks.

MASSET: But…you see…That’s not what I want.  Like, at all.  Snow has been an excellent trainer to me for one and a half decades, and you’re the one who taught him.  So what I’m looking for, I guess, is expert advice on how to do the best I can do.

SMASH!  Crab fragments go everywhere, reaching the tables and patrons sitting nearby.

BERRY WHITE: You want expert advice?  Berry sloppily takes a mouthful of crabs, noisily sucking his fingers clean. My advice is listen to the expert.  Belch.  Mmm, so juicy.  Belch.  And the expert says…slurp…bring Roberts to his knees before the match even begins.

Masset shakes his head, unsure of how to convince Berry otherwise.  Snow walks up with a tray and joins the group.  He has three slices of pizza, two large Cinnabons, a bowl of orange chicken, and three large Orange Julius drinks.  He takes the fourth spot at the table.

SNOW WHITE: The crap you guys talkin’ about?

BERRY WHITE: How to make sure Roberts can’t show up for the match.

SNOW WHITE: I got a guy.  One call and Roberts will have busted knees by morning.

Rick confusingly chimes in.

RICK: His knees are already in bad shape.  Look, guys, let’s be serious here.  We’re not going to put a hit out on Roberts or anything ridiculous like that.  Seriously.

SMASH!  Ugh, how many crabs does Berry have?  People are staring.

BERRY WHITE: Mkay.  He pulls out some butter sauce, making his eating even more wet and disgusting.  Too chicken s*** to pull off the foolproof plan, I understand.  Friggin A, this is delicious.  There’s plenty of other options, too. Slurp.  What do we know about the guy?

Snow finished one slice of pizza, all except the crust.  He takes aim and chucks it in the general direction of a trash can some thirty feet away.  He misses by about twenty feet.

RICK: Well, he’s an excellent competitor, he’s won several world championships in the past.  He used to be in the entertainment industry before moving to professional wrestling, so he’s always had a flair for the spotlight.

BERRY WHITE: Okay, shut up.  What I mean is, what do we KNOW about him?  Strengths, weaknesses?

RICK: Oh, well, like I said, his knees are the worst part of his game.  He also tends to get a little overconfident.  But that’s because he’s really good at reading people and knowing how much he needs to step up in order to overcome any shortcomings.

Berry has finished his crabs, though it seems the majority of which is on his face and floor.  He reminds me of when toddlers eat spaghetti and the sauce manages to cover the walls and their entire faces and the back of their heads somehow.  Anyway, with one big sweep of his arm, he pushes everything onto the floor.  All except his foot-long meatball sub, which he unwraps and begins inhaling it, very noisily.  

BERRY WHITE: Omnomnom…oh yeah… Okay so…spitting his food as he talks…he knows how to read people.  So Masset…belch…what have you done to make yourself unpredictable?

MASSET: Well, I mean, he probably thinks I’m training, so I avoided doing that.  He won’t see that coming.

Masset gives a cheesy smile, but nobody else at the table got the joke.  Masset leans forward more seriously.

MASSET: Look, I want this victory.  This is the last chance I will ever get to showcase my skills, and it’s against one of the best competitors I’ve ever seen.  I’ve not given any thought to how I’ve made myself “unpredictable” or anything because that’s never been something I’ve done before.  At least not intentionally.  I’ve made a living off of giving off a foolish persona so that people don’t take me seriously, only to surprise them in the ring.  It’s amazing how even after winning multiple world championships and even if I’m on a 40-match win streak, people still never took me seriously.  

Berry isn’t even lowering the sandwich from his mouth.  He’s using both hands to brace it as he moves it inch by inch into his mouth as he sloppily chews and swallows.

SNOW WHITE: EH!  YOU!

Snow chucks another pizza crust at a janitor cleaning off an adjacent table.

SNOW WHITE: You missed a spot!  HA!

Snow chuckles to himself as a job well done.  He begins tearing into the Cinnabon by the handful.

BERRY WHITE: So your plan is to play dumb?  Might I offer another suggestion?

MASSET: We’re not putting a hit out on Paul.

BERRY WHITE: …Okay, Plan C.  Does he have any relatives that he’s close to?

Masset leans back and lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

WOMAN: Excuse me, do you mind?

A lady sternly approaches the table, particularly Snow.

WOMAN: We are trying to have a nice meal and you are disturbing everyone here!  

SNOW WHITE: Hey!

WOMAN: What?

SNOW WHITE: O_O

WOMAN: That’s it, I’m getting a manager.

She storms away.  Snow picks up a meatball that fell out of Berry’s sandwich and throws it at the woman, then laughs.  Who throws a meatball?  Seriously?

MASSET: Rubbing his temples I don’t know why I came.  I don’t know what I expected from you.  I think we’re gonna head out.

BERRY WHITE: Don’t you dare, I’ll lock you in a room and set it on fire.

MASSET: What?

BERRY WHITE: Don’t you dare lock your talent in this room to be set on a thin wire.

MASSET: Shaking his head.  This was a fantastic waste of time.  Oh, perfect, it just gets better.

Masset sees a security guard walking toward the table with the meatballed lady.  Masset lets out an exasperated sigh.

MASSET: C’mon, Snow.

SNOW WHITE: What?  What’d I do?  Raising his hands in genuine confusion.

MASSET: C’mon, Rick.

Masset and Rick grab their jackets and give an apologetic look to the security guard and the woman before walking away from the escalating scene at the table.  The last thing they see is the security guard trying to subdue Snow.

The camera fades out.  After a few seconds, it fades back in, and what we see is the empty arena “One Last Stand” will take place.  The cameraman standing on the entrance ramp, panning up to see the extravagant set pieces are not yet in place.  The ring is together, but a lot of polishing is yet to happen.  Masset starts talking from behind the cameraman, who swings around to see Masset in his wrestling tights and a t-shirt.

MASSET: So here we are.  Exactly 6012 days since I made my professional debut, back on September 25th, 1998.  I was just 21 years old back then, fresh out of the Indy circuit and looking for more money, more fame, and a bigger challenge.  I did find instant success, winning the Intercontinental championship just three weeks after I turned pro.

He walks down the ramp as he talks, with the camera staying a couple steps ahead of him.  He walks up the stairs and steps into the ring.

MASSET: But I think back to that day.  I have no idea who I faced, or how I won, or where it was.  I know the fed’s initials were ECF, but I can't even say with complete certainty what that stood for.  But I do remember clearly the feeling I had when I hoisted up that championship.  The excitement I had, thinking, “I will never feel so accomplished as I do right now.”  

He chuckles.  He stares out to the upper deck of the empty stadium, thinking back to all the packed houses he wrestled in front of.

MASSET: Six thousand days have passed since that night. Yet that first title back in 1998 was special to me.  It started the Movement.  It kicked off the legacy of Masset.  I won 30 more championships after that first one put me on the map.  I participated in 312 matches in my career spanning 17 years.  Many of those matches, forgettable.  Most of them, in fact.  I won 31 championships yet many of those I would've long since forgotten about had I not kept a log of them all as I went.  Six-thousand days of domination.  Two-hundred thirty-four victories.  

I've had a long and productive career.  But after one more match, it all comes to an end.  It will forever be in the past, only remembered by those who were there. I like to think I've made a lasting impact, but really, that's not for me to decide.  

He leans against the ropes, testing its springy-ness.  Smiling, he runs his hands across the ropes, getting one more feel for it.

MASSET: I came into this profession looking for money, fame, and a challenge.  I had lofty goals.  Admittedly, most of them were tangible goals.  I love stats and numbers, and I wanted the best tangible “evidence” of a great career I could get.  I wanted to be remembered for everything.  To have a legacy that transcends all others.  Hubris? Sure.  But I wanted to be remembered for my singles wrestling, for my tag team wrestling, for my title reigns.  I wanted people to be famous just by being associated with me.  And given how popular Snow had become in certain subsets of the community, I think I succeeded.  And given how many singles and tag titles I’ve won, records shattered, and finding my way into both singles and tag team halls of fame, I think I succeeded.

All of my tangible goals had been met.  All of my intangible goals had been met.  So what now?  What’s going to happen to me?  What’s going to happen to Snow?  Snow is a born trainer and, I imagine, will find some prospective young wrestler to take under his wing.  I don’t know.  I don’t think we’ll keep in touch after we go our separate ways.  As for me, I’ll go off into retirement satisfied, for the first time in my life.  This match will be the last time I ever step into a wrestling ring again.

He takes a deep breath, forgetting about all that and focusing on his upcoming match.

MASSET: But it’s important to remember that the sun has not yet set on my career.  Paul Roberts, I have known you for many years.  Truth be told, I never was a big fan of your TV movies, but as far as your in-ring ability goes, you are top notch.  While it is an honor to fight you for the first and last time, make no mistake, I do not plan on sipping a Pina colada on a beach the morning after our match.  I plan on being so sore and exhausted that I’ll need a week to recover.  Because I am not on vacation yet, so I will fight until my last breath.  I want this win.  I’m not looking to end my great career on a loss.  This is my 80th PPV match, I’ve won 63.  When the stage is brightest, I fight hardest.  So you’re a good friend of mine, but prepare yourself, because I’m gunning for your head.  

He shrugs his shoulders.

MASSET: Afterward we can grab a beer, though.

Masset continues pacing.

MASSET: So Roberts, let’s put on a show.  Let’s show all these young bloods how things were done back in the day.  Let’s end on a high note.  Let’s steal the show one last time.  And to the fans who have stuck beside me from day one, thank you.  I couldn’t ask for a better seventeen years.  Thank you for letting me be a part of the massive story that is professional wrestling.  Thank you for letting me get into hijinks and shenanigans for your entertainment.  So for the very last time, let’s fade to black.

The cameras do indeed fade to black.  A tribute video of Masset’s career begins to play as “Empty Garden” by Elton John accompanies it.  Wait, Elton John, seriously?  That seems…odd.  Eh, Masset’s never had very good taste in music.  A flash of white hits the screen and we're in 2003.  A glimpse of a young Masset and Chen holding high the tag team titles over the fallen Bad Attitude.  February 22, 2003, the start of the first of three title reigns that would go over 200 days.

Another flash of white and the banner for "King of the Ring 2003" is covering the screen.  A montage of shots fill the screen from Masset's Quarterfinal match against Rich Lechler.  They change into a collection from his Semifinal match against Answer, ending in the shot of him standing over Answer, foot on chest.  The next shot is a stare down between he and Marty Howe in the Finals.  Behind the images is the audio sound of Masset from the pre-match interview.

MASSET:"Get ready Marty, because I was born ready."

The images turn into a fast-pace video montage of the match.  It winds down to Masset's blocked H-Squared and slows down to a slow-motion frog splash that sealed the victory.

"Here is your winner, via pinfall in 29 minutes, 17 seconds, and 2003 NAWF King of the Ring, MASSET!"

A white flash hits again and we see Masset and Roger Clark tumbling over the top rope with Masset hanging on, securing his battle royal victory.  That leads in to his world title match in front of his home town of Fargo, North Dakota.  A collage of images guide us through the match while audio in the background takes us through the moments.  Finally, another shot of Masset standing on the second turnbuckle facing out, holding his newly-won World Heavyweight Championship high above his head.  Another flash takes us to the finals of the X-matches.  Another to his world title defense against his tag team partner and good friend, Chen.

A flash of All Mixed Up 2004.  The referee holding up the TV title in the beginning, signifying it's up for grabs.  The All Mixed Up winner's trophy is on the table in the near background where the TV title is laid.  Highlights are shown, ending in slow motion with Masset's final shove to Mike Shiekman and Rob Withrow to send them to the mat.  Masset has his arms up in triumph, AMU trophy in one hand, TV title in the other. The announcer’s commentary is heard over Masset’s celebration.

Wheeler: Three World Title reigns, including the longest in NAWF history. Four Tag Title reigns, also with the longest in history. An IC title reign. Last year's King of the Ring, this year's NAWF Bowl, and now a TV Title and All Mixed Up to go on top...Masset has won EVERYTHING you can in his NAWF career.

A flash of white and it’s 2007.  It’s the Tower of Death match at ASW’s Demon’s Night, where an undefeated Masset is fighting twelve other participants for the vacated world championship.  It’s a fast-paced montage of action culminating with Masset climbing the three cells and descending the ladder to victory.  He’s so exhausted, he can’t even celebrate.  Highlights of all of Masset’s post-match celebrations make up for that, the last being Masset on his knees holding his world title high over the fallen Black Robb.  Another shot of Masset yelling in the face of President Rose before tossing the belt onto the ground and walking out.

One more flash of white and we’re at Battlegrounds 100, where a much older-looking Masset sluggishly fights Erik Damasus.  Highlights of his IWF career are shown in stills, alternating between defeat and victory.  The last shot is of Masset catching his breath trying to stand after his From The Ashes loss.  He pulls himself up as it smoothly transitions to a shot of Masset and Roberts staring each other down from a promotional shoot for One Last Stand.

As the music begins to fade, we get one last montage of Masset and the gang doing all sorts of stupid things over the years as their slogan superimposes itself on the screen.

Fear…

Masset participating in one of Snow’s training regimens.

Fear the anxiety…

Bruce shaking his head as Masset and Chen have a grocery cart race in a supermarket.

Fear the reality…

Masset proudly flashing his Rising Phoenix “#1 Contender” belt at a football game.

Fear the chaos theory…

Masset hosing down Snow after he was tarred and feathered for a promo.

…And our midget.

Fade to black.