Alex Marvez was standing in the center of the ring with a microphone in hand.
Alex: “Ladies and Gentlemen, joining us at this time…Maxwell Jacob Fri…”
“I’m Back” hit the speakers, cutting Alex off mid-speech. Eric Bischoff made his way onto the stage, wearing a black leather jacket and Burberry scarf combo, before walking down to the ring as he spoke.
Eric: “Come on Marvez, you can do better than that. Is that any kind of introduction for our illustrious leader? Look, I’ll show you how it’s done…Ladies and Gentlemen, joining us at this time…he is a GENERATIONAL TALENT. He is the man that belongs in your local fishing supplies store next to the other Hook Removers…standing at six feet, six inches high and weighing over 300 pounds…”
The camera cut to Marvez rolling his eyes.
Eric: “…hailing from the most magical place on Earth, Long Island, New York…MAXWELL. JACOB. FRIEDMAN!”
“Better Than You” hit as MJF walked out from the back wearing a New York Islanders hockey jersey, basking in the jeers and boos on stage for a moment before heading down to join Alex and Eric.
MJF: “Thank you Mr. Bischoff. Alex, Alex, Alex – must we always show you how to do your job? What do they keep paying you for? Who’ve you got dirt on? Is it Wes? I bet it’s Wes. MONTREAL, QUEBEC! It’s great to be back in Canada. God I missed the 51st state, didn’t you Eric?”
The last comment got the crowd really worked up, and a couple of plastic cups were thrown into the ring by the crowd.
MJF: “Whoa whoa whoa, what are you getting so mad a-boot? It isn’t like I insulted your hockey team yet! And I’m not even going to insult your hockey team…you know why? BECAUSE HOCKEY SUCKS!”
MJF pulled off his Islanders jersey before standing on the ropes facing the crowd.
MJF: “That's right! Hockey sucks, Montreal sucks, Canada sucks, Poutine sucks and you guessed it, your mom sucks! Hell, when some incel wrestling ‘journalist’ just asked me about the Montreal Screwjob, I thought they were talking about my time with ALL your mothers and sisters last night!”
Alex: “Max, can we get this interview back on the rails?”
MJF turned and glared at Marvez.
Alex: “Maybe we can start with Eric…Eric, what brought you back into the wrestling scene?”
Eric: “Well Alex, it’s pretty simple. When Max called me and asked for my help to improve The Dynasty, I couldn’t resist. You see, Max has a lot of potential and a lot of determination, but he hasn’t shown the best judgement when it comes to his stable partners. Max put too much emphasis on youth and being the future of the business. Don’t get me wrong, Max is certainly the future of this industry, but that doesn’t mean The Dynasty need to be the same. To get Max, and Richard of course, to where they want to be, the key isn’t youth…it’s experience. And over the coming weeks, you’ll see how we blend Max’s talents with Holliday’s intelligence, Hobbs’ raw power and how we inject some experience into the mix.”
Alex: “Does that mean we should expect to see some new faces in the new-look Dynasty?”
Eric: “Some new faces, maybe even fresh, new and original branding. The industry is constantly evolving and renewing itself, and it’s important that we move with the times while learning from the past.”
Alex: “And should we expect to see some more experienced faces soon?”
Eric: “I think that would be a safe assumption.”
As he said that, the words “24 Karat Pictures presents…A Shattered Dreams production…” appeared on the tron, while “Gold-lust” hit the speakers. MJF turned to Bischoff with a puzzled look on his face.
MJF: “Was this you?”
As they turned back towards the tron, Al Snow stepped out in a golden robe, white wig and gold facepaint, carrying an equally wigged and painted Head.
Alex: “Ladies and Gentlemen…Snowdust, I guess?”
An irate MJF shouted expletives in the middle of the ring as Snowdust climbed onto the apron. As he bent down to step through the ropes, MJF grabbed his head and hit the heatseeker. He picked Snowdust up from the mat and dragged him over to the corner, before grabbing his legs and placing each one over the middle ropes either side. MJF took a few steps back before looking around the arena with a grin on his face, grabbing his crotch and charging forward to land the Shattered Dreams on Al Snow, who crumpled to the mat in pain. MJF picked up his microphone.
MJF: “And that boys and girls, is why hockey sucks and football is the best there is, the best there was and the best there ever will be!”
Any cheers that had appeared after the shattered dreams quickly turned back into boos.
MJF: “And Veer Mahaan, you big, dumb son of a bitch, this is NOTHING compared to what I’ll do to you tonight at Warfare. Because my name is Maxwell Jacob Friedman, and I'm better than you, and you know it! Interview’s over Marvez, you f*ckin’ Mark.”
MJF took his time to ensure that he had shown every person in the arena his middle finger before walking back up the ramp with Eric.
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