John Helms
(Fight Grid intro plays.)
(The camera opens up to EAW Headquarters, the building located in Newark, New Jersey. As always, the camera pans around the building, before fading inside the building. There, it focused into the office of the Chairman, Methuselah, where Gawd himself was seated at his desk.)
Methuselah: OVER FOR THOU. Correct me if I’m wrong (I’m not), but do I sense a tad bit of hostility from our dear general manager Tyrone Montgomery? A scintilla of ire at my reinstatement of Kensingten Calhoun-Astor and Richard Grant? OVA FOR THOU. Question not the imperative of your superiors, young manager. Moreover, FORGET not the place in which I stand. I am GAWD; I am the omphalos of the Land of Elite, Extreme, Merchants, Beasts and all the success it has acquired. With my powerful and dexterous hands, I grabbed hold of professional wrestling and hoisted it up into the heavens where it now resides. It is by the Master Builder’s vision that this promotion exists as it is. It is by the Master Builder’s design that YOU have a job, you miserable reprobate.
Methuselah: You went behind my back to arrange my match at Fighting Spirit, against the soulless one of the Ava family? Have you forgotten one of EAW’s most well-known axioms? Death, taxes, and ADAMS > AVA. OVA FOR THOU. Your actions will mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, I will dispatch that harlot as I have already done to her sister and even her sister’s husband. Be it Bronson Daniels or Ms. Extreme, the Demiurge topples all foes. But do not fool yourself into thinking your actions will not have consequences. OVA FOR THOU.
Methuselah: I hereby announce a new match for the Dynasty Supershow… it will be none other than Tyrone Montgomery in a showdown against RICHARD GRANT! Aht, aht, you did not mishear me; I said precisely what you perceived. The general manager of Dynasty, Tyrone Montgomery, will be in active competition. May this booking serve as a lesson you so gravely need to understand, Tyrone; there is no one above the Demiurge. I stand alone at the apex of this land. And when Richard Grant is beating you into a blood-soaked pulp, may these three words ring within the confines of your CTE-addled mind…
Methuselah: TEST ME NOT.
(EAW logo buzzes).
