The scene opened up backstage at the Coleman Coliseum. Renee Young was pacing nervously back and forth, microphone in hand, apparently awaiting the arrival of an interviewee. She stopped, looked beyond the camera to the cameraman and sighed.

Renee Young: One of them finally arranges a sensible interview with me and he's late. What am I supposed to think? Is it some kind of trick? Am I going to give up, head to catering and get kidnapped on the way? Are you in on this?

The camera shook from side to side. Then, Renee screamed as the camera view spun out of control and apparently hit the floor with a crash.

"That's what you get for being a stereotypical cameraman and using the camera to signify a shake of the head. YOU ARE NOT THE ACTUAL CAMERA."

The camera was laid on its side, and showed two pairs of legs - one wearing a pair of leather trousers and black heels, the other wearing red and white boots with the Canadian flag emblazoned on them. The heeled pair of legs took a few steps back.

Renee Young: WHAT THE HELL LANCE? Is Trent here? Are you taking me somewhere?

Lance Storm: No, I'm here for the interview. Let's talk about wrestling!

There was an awkward silence, lasting around 5 seconds.

Renee Young: No. You're being too nice. LYNNE!

The heeled pair of legs suddenly ran away. There was more silence, as the booted pair of legs went to turn away. However, the camera was picked up and turned around, looking upwards to show Lance Storm peering into the lens. He looked puzzled, then away from the camera.

Lance Storm: You! Over here!

Footsteps were heard.

Lance Storm: Hold this!

The camera changed hands, and after some jostling it focused on Lance.

Lance Storm: Perfect. Now, since that strange paranoid blonde lady won't grant me a simple interview I'll do this on my own. Uhh...

Another awkward silence.

Lance Storm: ...ASK ME A QUESTION!

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind the camera.

New-found Cameraman: Uhh... What's on your mind?

Lance Storm: WHAT'S ON MY MIND?! Gold! Apparently Lance Storm is in the running for the Intercontinental Championship. Why? Hell, you probably have more of an idea than I do, kid. And you look like they've brought you in for the night to play a hobbit in some fucked up divas segment. But hey, a match is a match. And gold is gold... Ted Dibiase knows that. Gold means riches, and his family name is synonymous with riches. Money can buy you many things... Cars, houses, sweet leather-bound books... Mmm... However, it can't buy you enough ability to go toe to toe with the master of professional wrestling Lance Storm. Daddy could have bought you Thesz, Steamboat, Hodge, Saint and the entire Hart family combined in their prime to converge via time machine and give you a crash course on how to take me on - it wouldn't matter. I'm simply too good. Sure, I've been a bit lazy lately. Hell, I just found out what a Netflix is. But tonight you have my undivided attention, Junior. And trust me - you'll be glad you saved your money because it's early retirement for you. And then...

Lance looked expectantly beyond the camera.

New-found Cameraman: ...you get a shot at the gold?

Lance Storm: You're damn right I do. The Intercontinental Title. The champion... Trent... Trent, I hate your guts. This blood feud boils deeper than the greatest rivalries this industry has ever seen. I've waited since day one of coming back to get my hands on you, and this is the final stop on my journey. My journey to get to you. We've went back and forth for months now - the brawls, the verbal assaults, the mind games... They've taken their toll Trent. But once I'm done with Dibiase, there's nothing left standing in my way. It's me and you. One on one. And it's going to be emotional.

Lance stared with great intensity into the camera. ...There was another awkward silence. Lance once again looked beyond the camera.

Lance Storm: ...what?

New-found Cameraman: ...have I missed something?

Lance Storm: ...excuse me?

New-found Cameraman: Something didn't seem right...

Lance Storm: Well aren't you the second fucking coming. I have no idea what's actually going to happen after I beat Dibiase. In fact, it's going to be really fucking awkward. So I'd appreciate it if we left it there, thank you. Oh... By the way...

The cameraman, apparently smarter than he seemed, immediately backed off and turned to escape from Lance.

Lance Storm: Wait! I wasn't going to superkick the camera! You did a good job I was gonna let you keep it!

The camera turned back to Lance and the cameraman breathed a sigh of relief and began to walk back towards him.

New-found Cameraman: Phew! I've seen how these things usually-

There was a loud crash as Lance superkicked the camera, which collided with the man's face.

Lance Storm: OH COME ON. Where are they finding these interns?

The scene faded.