The camera opens in a gritty parking lot under dim fluorescent lights. Rex Steiner stands in front of a black SUV, leaning casually against the hood. He’s dressed in a fitted black leather jacket over a simple “Warhound” t-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. His body language is loose, but his eyes burn with intensity. He cracks his neck and smirks before addressing the camera.
REX STEINER
"Goldberg. Big, bad Goldberg. Da Man. The Boogeyman of ol’ WCW down South. The guy who’s been spearing people out of their boots since before I could walk. Yeah, I could go on. You had your time, Bill. You were the man. No one will question that. But now? You’re just an old bastard hanging on by a thread, and I’m the guy who’s about to cut you loose!"
Rex laughs to himself and shakes his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
REX STEINER
"You think you’re walking into this match to teach me a lesson? Really?! You think you are going to be a dumbass superhero stepping up to defend my family? Save the damn speeches, Bill. You’re not a superhero. You’re a washed-up has-been trying to keep the spotlight for five more minutes. And guess what? I’m here to rip it away from you."
Rex steps away from the SUV, pacing as he speaks, his movements aggressive but calculated.
REX STEINER
"I’ll break it down for you. You’ve been living off the same two moves for thirty years. Spear, Jackhammer, repeat. And yeah, that worked back in the day, when people thought you were unbeatable. Unstoppable. But now? You’re slower, you’re soft, and you’re walking into a fight with a guy who’s hungry as hell and doesn’t give a damn about you or your well-being!"
Rex points directly into the camera, his expression turning serious.
REX STEINER
"You don’t scare me, Bill. Not even a little bit. You think your punk-ass entrances and your bitchy snarling are gonna rattle me? Please. I grew up watching guys like you, and I saw through the bullshit then, just like I do now. You’re all bark, no bite. Come Christmas Eve of Destruction, you’re walking into MY yard for me to dog-walk your ass all over Chicago!"
He stops pacing and leans closer to the camera, his voice dropping to a low growl.
REX STEINER
"Let’s get real, old man. You’ve got all these fans hyped up, thinking you’re gonna put me in my place, but deep down, even you know the truth. You’re outmatched. You’re outclassed. And you’re stepping into the ring with a Warhound who’s gonna chew your ass up and spit you out in front of everyone."
Rex chuckles again, shaking his head as if he can’t believe Goldberg even accepted the match.
REX STEINER
"You keep saying I’ve got a big mouth, that I run my mouth too much. Damn right, I do. Because I can back it up. I’m not here to play nice, and I’m sure as hell not here to kiss anyone’s ass, Bill. I’m here to prove that I’m not the future of this business. I’m the present! And you? You’re just an inconvenient step in my way."
He leans back against the SUV, crossing his arms, his smirk returning.
REX STEINER
"You wanna come to the EBWF with all your big talk? Bill: you’re not “Da Man” anymore. You’re just a guy trying to hold on to something that’s already slipped through your fingers. And me? I’m the guy who’s gonna make sure you finally get the message that your time is up."
Rex uncrosses his arms and steps forward again, his eyes locking on the camera like a predator zeroing in on prey.
REX STEINER
"So bring your big-ass ego, and whatever’s left of your career, and let’s see what you’ve got. You’re not walking into a match though, Bill. You’re walking into the fight of your entire life! And when that bell rings, all the chants, all the nostalgia, all the stupid “Goldberg!” chants in the world won’t save your ass."
He straightens up, cracks his knuckles, and tilts his head, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
REX STEINER
"You wanted this fight, Bill. You begged for it. You stepped to me! And you’re about to find out why that was the dumbest move of your whole life. See you at Christmas Eve of Destruction, cause this will be the last we see of your bitch-ass!"
Rex turns his back to the camera, walking toward the SUV. He stops, glances over his shoulder one last time, and smirks before climbing into the driver’s seat. The sound of the engine roaring to life echoes through the lot as the screen fades to black.
RP: #1 CURRENT RECORD: 0/0/0 NEXT MATCH: vs Goldberg EVENT: Christmas Eve of Destruction STIPULATION: No-Holds-Barred
CURRENT RANKING: ? ACCOLADES: ? CHAMPIONSHIPS WON: ?
