Decay

Anyone associated with the EBWF were fair game and targets for The Shield. Typically, all of their focus and aggression was reserved for current members of the roster and even those who held loftier positions. When The Shield arrived and began to search and destroy anything and anyone, some of those in high paid, very desirable positions stepped down and sought employment elsewhere. Every job had it's own level of stress but this went above and beyond work place hazards. Some left immediately after WrestleMania and others fled once they watched The Hounds of Justice grow in power. Out of sight and out of mind, right? They had bigger fish to fry, more pressing engagements and surely wouldn't go to the trouble of hunting them down.

They were sorely mistaken.

Three former members of the EBWF Board of Directors had been ruthlessly and covertly drug kicking and screaming into the clutches of The Shield. Two straight off of the streets and one directly out of their home. Their tactics had grown more extreme and even grander in scale. A result of Dean Ambrose failing to regain the coveted and highly sought after World Championship? Perhaps. Or maybe this could have been the plan all along. There wasn't a human being alive who was able to predict the mastermind behind The Shield's thought process so those were answers that only he knew. Despite his erratic nature, there was indeed a structure and method behind everything that he did.

Two of the victims were in their late forties. The first being an overweight, bald gentleman with a grey beard who probably looked a lot like your favorite, kindly, jovial uncle. The other a tall, lanky male who probably never thought in his wildest dreams that he would find himself in a situation like this. Lastly, a female with short blonde hair who was only in her mid thirties. Very attractive for someone who had previously spent most of her days locked up in a board room. She had a fit, trim body and had no doubt used most of her off-time in the gym.

They had no clue how they had reached their current location nor did they have even the slightest inkling of where they were. They had been blindfolded the entire duration of their little trip along with having their hands tied ridiculously tight behind their backs. Their ankles were tied together which seemed a little superfluous since it wasn't like they were going to be able to outrun so many men at once. The former board members stared up at the sight standing over them: Dean Ambrose. He sneered down at them with his hands resting behind his back and a look of pure contempt in his eyes. He was gazing at them as if they were less than human, even less than animals. They wanted to scream about how they weren't even affiliated with the company anymore but the black gags in their mouths prevented that. From their vantage point flat on their backs and neatly piled in a row, shoulder to shoulder with one another, they might as well have been in a haunted house. The floor creaked every time they moved, their were windows sealed shut and they were surrounded. The only other person they recognized amongst the surly, angry looking men in black was a large, intimidating Samoan fellow. Roman Reigns. Someone you didn't want to meet in a dark alley. Or, more fittingly, someone you didn't want to meet in a dark room where you were bound and gagged. After a long silence ensued, that familiar, broken, jagged voice began to speak.

Dean Ambrose: Hello there, lady and gentlemen..

Trying to set up was a chore at this point but they could tell that his black boots had been to slowly pace back and forth. The floor continued to creak.

Dean Ambrose: Although, I guess those terms are a little unnecessary when used in relation to you three..

He had leaned down a little closer, presumably so they got a good eye full of who would be their tormentor for the evening and pointed a finger towards his face.

Dean Ambrose: Hey. Cast your beady little eyes up here. I want you to realize that even though you jumped ship that it doesn't wash away what you've been a part of. You still are going to feel the terror of your crimes.

The man pulling the strings lowered to a crouching position and gave a slow, long look at each of his catches individually. 

Dean Ambrose: Survivor Series is going to be a very, very big night for The Shield. Some of the biggest offenders are all lined up and neatly gift wrapped just for us! Sort of like you are right now. I doubt they're going to go down as easily but the stupid, fish out of water expressions are probably going to be about the same.

After creeping a few fingers forward he leaned in closely to the slender man's ear and began to speak through gritted teeth.

Dean Ambrose: We have been waiting for this moment. Particularly, I have been waiting on this since the day I showed up in the EBWF..

Beads of sweat began to run down the willowy, slim mans face and his eyes couldn't have been any bigger. Ambrose suddenly shot to his feet without warning and deceptive speed.

Dean Ambrose: I mean, just look at who we have ready to face off against us! It's like Thanksgiving and Christmas have combined and come early! The worst of the worst, a who's who of scumbags that I have personally been DYING to get a hold of. Oh. But wait, wait, wait.

While still staring down at his trio of helpless souls, the commander of The Shield motioned a hand towards the visually striking Reigns.

Dean Ambrose: Look who I have on my side. The big cat right here. People have been pushing ALL of the wrong buttons and I think it's time we unleashed him. Does this look like a man who is afraid of anyone? Let alone the pieces of garbage that have formed together to stand up to us? NOPE. I don't think so. Fear is not seen in those eyes. This guy right here could very well take out that whole team by himself. Go ask Ted DiBiase how long it's going to be until he can eat solid food again after Reigns speared the ever living SHIT out of him. Nah. He ain't afraid of them. But, then again, who the hell would be? Did you SEE them Monday night? All standing around, holding hands, lip syncing the bosses theme song? Seriously, I mean this, what a bunch of pussies. HEY!

Ambrose spun around and directed his next question towards his faceless, darkly dressed cohorts in the background.

Dean Ambrose: Have we EVER prepared for a fight by conducting a little sing-a-long?

There was a unanimous negative reaction and many head shakes.

Dean Ambrose: NO! Because this is a WAR and we incinerate those who try to stop us! I really don't care about Rhodes and Bryan, we're only helping him because we have mutual enemies. And where..where..is Seth? Ah. I remember. He has some experiments to conduct but don't think for one second that we aren't completely united because, oh, we so are..

Ambrose's line of consciousness flip-flopped all over the place and it was impossible to judge what he was going to say or do next. Case in the point, the action he was about to take. He leaned down once again, this time targeting the rotund fellow. The hapless man in a suit's eyes grew to an enormous size.

Dean Ambrose: I'm sorry, am I boring you? GET YOUR ASS UP.

With all the grace of an abusive parent, Ambrose hauled the unlucky man to his feet and left it up to Reigns to determine his punishment. The muscle behind The Shield saw it fit to send him hurdling shoulder first into one of the nearby walls, shoulder fist, releasing a heart stopping roar in the process. The poor guy released muffles screams of agony and lay in a heap. The injuries further complicated by being tied down.

Dean Ambrose: Stop bitching it's just separated shoulder! I could tell by that tearing sound. That scream is definitely from a tear, not a break. ..Hey, you two know John Cena, right?

He asked after turning to face his remaining captives, cupping a hand over his ear as if they were possibly going to be able to respond intelligibly.

Dean Ambrose: Of course you do! I'm sure you slaved many work day ours thinking of ways to have that cash cow invade EVERY form of media! As if his dumb, grinning face wasn't bad enough, you helped to slap it on literally anything that could be have a price tag attached to it. Well, as it turns out, he isn't exactly the smartest guy around. Shocking, I know. Because he went out and found a team full of people who I'VE ALREADY BEATEN THE SHIT OUT OF!

Ambrose leaned down to the pair on the floor who winced and closed their eyes tightly. 

Dean Ambrose: I mean..look at Syxx. Oh my god, that old bastard still hasn't retired yet?!

He released a deep groaning sound and slowly drug his hands along the side of his face in anguish.

Dean Ambrose: The forty year old, male, Miley Cyrus is STILL out there embarrassing himself? Jesus Christ, is he ever going to realize that he's never going to be cool again? SOMEONE find this mother fucker some JNCO jeans, a bucket hat and a Papa Roach cd and kick his ass back into a time portal to 1999! Honestly, and I'm not making this up, the last encounter I had with him I kicked HIS ass, and I kicked his pillhead best friends SON's ass and do you know what bothered him the most? The fact that I made fun of his undeniably shitty taste in music.

A deep exhale of a sigh escaped his chest and Ambrose actually looked more annoyed than outrageously furious.

Dean Ambrose: I understand that I'm dealing with a third grade education that lost most of that after drug use but god damn. He's also a liar because I recall him saying something along the lines of if he couldn't win the World Title then he was going to retire. LIAR! His out of shape, sickening face is still popping up on television! And what has he done since that BOLD proclamation? Get dropped by AJ Styles, get dropped by Ted DiBiase and still, STILL, walk around being a grown ass man who lives by the slogan "Fuck Everyone".

In complete and total mockery, Ambrose performed a crotch chop and then let his tongue dangle out with holding up a pair of devil horns before smacking himself across the face.

Dean Ambrose: Sure, he put up more of a fight than I thought he would but for all of his talk? I wasn't impressed. This time I'm going to make sure that whatever beating I give him he doesn't get back up from. I'm going to hit him so hard that his washed, somehow even older, professional tweeter Kevin Nash feels it. Speaking of feeling it..

Ambrose motioned his head towards the remaining male and turned his back. Roman Reigns snagged him and, with almost no effort, yanked him to his feet. The man struggled as best he could but he was drug to one of the open windows.

Dean Ambrose: You're probably the one who green-lit his return so..

After some maneuvering, Reigns had gripped the man by the ankles and dangled him out of the window. He swayed lightly back and forth like a worm on a hook and looked down at his potential third story drop. There was more horrible, muffled screams.

Dean Ambrose: Holy shit. Seth's going to regret missing this. He would have such a boner right now.

The screaming suddenly stopped. Not because Reigns dropped the man. But because he had fainted. Ambrose was not impressed by this lack of courage and he openly scoffed as Roman dumped him off in a corner.

Dean Ambrose: Can't say I'm really surprised. Guess you're all alone, sweet heart..

Dean pushed some of his hair away so as to best be presentable with a lady present before he stood over her.

Dean Ambrose: Do you know who else Cena has on his little squad? The Miz. Oh, I'm sure you lot must have LOVED The Miz. So marketable. He was just born to walk on red carpets, huh? Well, he's back and better than ever! Well, you know, his hair is styled differently so he must be improved, right? Still looks like the same guy who has no heart that I completely obliterated the last time he stepped into a ring with me. I'm really at a loss when trying to figure out the reasoning behind Cena's choices. Some Hollywood wannabe is just going to come strolling back into OUR ring after disappearing for months and expect to do something? The Miz hasn't forgotten what I did to him, I promise you that, and he doesn't want any of me. He remembers me stepping on his throat and leaving him looking like he crawled out of a car wreck. We're just two different people. I bet you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams someone like The Miz actually physically dominating someone like me. It's not going to happen. All the hashtags and retweets aren't going to be worth a shit once the bell rings because NO ONE has ever won a match because they trended on twitter..

Ambrose dropped down onto his knee's folded his hands together in a praying formation as he gave a solemn look up towards the sky.

Dean Ambrose: Then we have Trent. Who, by golly, I bet is just going to go out there and give it his all. He's just waiting for that one breakout moment to finally capture his first World Title and make something of himself. He's going to stare my team and prove how he belongs into the upper echelon. And then maybe he'll go home, finally understand what sex is, and have his little soon to be wife give him the time of his life. Maybe he'll say a little prayer, the cloud's will part and God himself will reach down and give him a big thumbs up and that little guy will just be walking on sunshine..

The hands slowly dropped and Ambrose's expression was anything but heavenly, it was much more in line with something Satan himself would be proud of.

Dean Ambrose: Except that there is no God and if there was he would have put Trent out of his misery a long time ago and had him stop breathing before he slimed his way out of his mom. Yeah, maybe he's tougher than he looks, but he ain't tougher than us. If he was smart, he would take his fiance, elope and never show his face again. Live a nice, peaceful life. But, he isn't so he's just going to end up on the pile with the rest of them..

Like something out of a slasher flick, Ambrose crawled his way over to the lone female of the trio and whispered softly to her.

Dean Ambrose: I'm going to need your next participation for this next one..

Both Dean and the woman stood up, obviously she needed his aid to accomplish this. Her back was pressed against his chest and he closed his eyes while wrapping his arms around her shoulders. His height of 6'4'' towered over the diminutive frame of the woman.

Dean Ambrose: John Cena himself. Every single time I've ever stepped into a ring with him I've left him broken. It's not debatable, it's a fact.

He began to lightly the side of his head against her own.

Dean Ambrose: Despite this fact, he's taken cowardly little potshots at me every chance he could get. He's fired off his little child friendly insults and I've stood firm that he's beneath me and not worth my time. I have no reason to fear John Cena because he has nothing on me. He's never been able to be in my presence without ending up face first at my feet. And all his strength, and all of his power have never been able to change that. John Cena has always been able to tear through anyone he's laid eyes on..except for me. But like I said..I've never wasted much energy on him. It's just like an annoying insect buzzing around you. When it gets too close you swat it away but you don't spend your day worrying about it. Until one day..I decided to go a little further with Cena. I met his lovely little girlfriend Dani..

Ambrose lightly nodded his head a few times.

Dean Ambrose: Except there's something John doesn't know. I didn't kidnap Dani. Not like I did to you. No. Dani came to me willingly. She begged and pleaded because she was tired of being with a giant child and wanted and actual man. A man with principals, a man with convictions. So we schemed together a little plan to make it look like I had abducted her. But it was anything but. It was mutual.

His hand slid onto her stomach and then began to dip a little lower.

Dean Ambrose: I brought Dani out with me in front of the crowd. Her body was trembling but not out of fear. It was out of desire. She wanted me so bad that she couldn't stand it. She wanted..every..inch. In front of a live audience. She didn't care who was watching or that it was going to break poor John's heart. There was nothing that could have kept her from me. But..

Ambrose slithered from the blonde and shoved her forward, just as he did to Dani so many months ago while standing amongst the masses. Except on this occasion there was no John Cena to heroically make the save and this poor woman crashed right into the ground.

Dean Ambrose: ..I'm not into little gold digging, blood sucking worthless pieces of trash. Like I would ever, EVER lower myself to the level of some glorified ring rat. And..oh. Your unconscious, aren't you?

He shrugged his shoulders. He wouldn't normally attack women but there were those who deserved such harsh treatment and this was one of them. In his mind only of course. The limp body was drug away by a pair of Shield lackies.

Dean Ambrose: That's too bad because she doesn't get to hear what I have to say about Wes Ikeda..

It was as if all the emotion Ambrose had within his body was threatening to leap out and his breathing began to grow heavy.

Dean Ambrose: Finally, I get him. Not when my back is turned, not when the lights are out, and not when I'm down. Face to face. The entire reason The Shield was created in the first place. Years. Years, I've been waiting for this chance. I've been so patient and diligent and it's about to pay off. So much anguish and suffering is all going to come out in one night..

He started to breathe into his hands to keep himself relaxed. Even the other Shield members, including Reigns, looked a little surprised by this. And this was someone who was known for his random, and seemingly uncontrollable body movements.

Dean Ambrose: I'm not going to lose my mind. Not yet. I'm not going to scream. I'm saving every last bit of it for when I get my hands around his neck. I'm just going to press down..and squeeze..and squeeze..until I can't feel anything and let a little piece of myself die..

His hands had begun to shake.

Dean Ambrose: He can't run and hide anymore. He is going to pay for everything he's ever done and for everything his creation has taken away from me. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do when I'm finished with him. But I do know that I want to save him for last and have him completely watch as everyone protecting him suddenly vanishes. He had better hope and pray that someone, ANYONE pries me off because if he doesn't..if he doesn't..

Ambrose's voice had cracked a few times and his hands were clasping the side of his head. He slowly turned towards his cohorts.

Dean Ambrose: Get out. GET OUT.

Reigns and the other members of The Shield slowly backed out of the room was they were told. With wide eyes, Ambrose looked in the direction he had been using to film all of this. And like some kind of feral, rabid animal he shoved it over and the scene suddenly became a scrambled mess of black and grey.                        

     

I Am A Shadow

Colby Lopez. Better known as Seth Rollins to fans of the EBWF. At 27 years old he is one of the bright, rising stars that the company could be banking on to help develop the future along with a mix of other twenty somethings and those in their early 30's. He found himself in the makeshift office of Stephanie McMahon, the Executive Vice President of Talent Relations. A makeshift office had been set up inside of the Wells Fargo Center. It would still be many hours before the show began or fans were allowed into the building. Many of the talent were going over some preparations or discussing spots in the ring within the empty arena. Rollins sat in front of Stephanie's desk and there was definitely something brewing within the young man's mind. His hair was pulled backwards and his beard was a little more grown out and scruffy but not nearly at Daniel Bryan levels. Stephanie in Seth had been discussing something for the last few moments.

Seth Rollins: I'm not someone who goes on social media and complains. I don't even talk to the rest of the boys about it. It's been on my mind awhile and I thought it was time to come to you about it.

Stephanie McMahon: We know how all three of you in The Shield think and we love it. You all want to be on top, you want to have the best matches on the show and you want everyone else around you to have to step up. We want everyone to have that mentality. 

Seth leaned back a little further in his chair. He had heard these words almost exactly before.

Stephanie McMahon: You specifically, we enjoy what you do. We know that we can put you in the ring with anyone and you're going to have a great match. Whether it be against John Cena or Randy Orton or someone lower on the card like Chris Sabin. Your promo's are interesting.


He nodded but he knew exactly what was coming next.

Stephanie McMahon: But we have a lot of stock in Dean right now and we think Roman can be a huge name when we present the right platform for him. There's just always going to be someone who is a little lower on the totem pole. 

Seth Rollins: So why is that me? You're telling me I can get it done in the ring. But I can also shine in every single other category.

He had begun to press his finger against the desk in front of him to drive those words in further.

Seth Rollins: You can compare me with everyone else on the roster and I'm telling you that I measure up with them in every way. I'm not the same kid in ROH who was shaky on the mic. I've stepped that up because I know how important it is. I'm not satisfied with playing second fiddle. I think..

Rollins placed a few fingers on his chin and paused to choose his words carefully.

Seth Rollins: ..I'm being put into positions to see how I'll react.

Stephanie McMahon: What do you mean?

Seth Rollins: Almost two months ago I went out and jobbed to Brodus Clay. I don't have a problem losing to anyone and I don't have a problem with Brodus. But he hadn't been on TV for months up to that point. And after I dropped a match to him? He hasn't been on TV since. What's the deal? Nothing is being done with him and I go out and lose to him for no reason? With no follow up?

Stephanie McMahon: Plans change a lot and things happen. I can't exactly tell you what happened there. But you've been put over strong against Edge and HHH.

Seth Rollins: Have I?

The native of Iowa shook his head a few times. He had a vastly different opinion on the matter when concerning his matches with those veterans.

Seth Rollins: I was HHH's last match and all I did was beat him. I couldn't have given him a beat down to send him off television? That would have put a lot of shine on me because Hunter is a name. And the match with Edge, how was I allowed to win? With a desperation roll up after getting speared? I should have been made to look stronger.

Stephanie McMahon: So you're unhappy with you're position in the company?

There was a long pause to allow the question to sink in.

Seth Rollins: I'm not unhappy. I'm frustrated. I'm grateful for my spot but I want more. If I was made World Champion tomorrow I wouldn't be satisfied. Do you know why? Because I'm constantly setting goals to move higher and higher. I'm not ever going to be content. 

Stephanie McMahon: You're not the only person who thinks that way. Some people in the locker room are content to collect a paycheck but there are people like you who are driven. But I'll tell you what. We're going to watch the promo you film for Survivor Series. John Cena, Miz, Syxx, Trent? they can all entertain and cut provocative interviews that make people talk. This match is your opportunity to do something. You're in their with a mix of guys who have been World Champion and have headlined pay per views. Wes Ikeda is in this match. This is your platform to make the most out of every second you get in that ring. Everyone you're facing off against is hungry. Everyone on YOUR team is hungry. It's up to you to go out there and prove that you want this more than they do. Slip out of your comfort zone and do something you haven't done before.

The room fell silent again. The names of his opponents and the word "entertain" kept bouncing around in his mind. If there was a desire for him to provide content that was different from what he had presented in the past then he would do just that.

Seth Rollins: Thanks for the time.

Cordial nods were exchanged and after a brief handshake Rollins took his leave from the office. Everything he had plotted out from his promo was getting scraped. It was time for something that wasn't expected.

***

Many Shield promo's began in darkness to give that claustrophobic feeling of mystery. This one seemed to start in a similar fashion. Shadows and the face of Seth Rollins amongst them. The location was unknown and a complete enigma at the given moment. 

Seth Rollins: Survivor Series. John Cena went out and found himself quite a group of entertainers. All different types of performers that you can derive a myriad of emotions from. Whether it be amusement, enjoyment, passion...a very diverse team, indeed. A little something for all different tastes. But there is one thing that they all have in common...

While his expression had been thoughtful and contemplative it had grown increasingly repulsed. 

Seth Rollins: ...what they are presenting to you is fake. The qualities in them that you may admire are not real. Envy, addiction, low self-confidence and abusive control. This is what they truly represent. They keep those negative inner emotions tucked away and you perceive that everything you see is real. Fraudulent misrepresentation obtained through deception. And so...is this...

Rollins closed his eyes and bowed his head to disappear into the darkness. Suddenly, everything became very bright. A sound stage room that resembled something close to a game show from the 70's. Rollins suddenly had a huge smile on his face as he spread his arms out wide. His two-toned hair was pulled backwards and he was dressed in an obnoxious, glittery, blue tuxedo with black slacks. He held a thin microphone in his hands and began to speak in a completely different tone of voice. He typically spoke in an arrogant and precise manner but now his voice was filled with boundless energy.

Seth Rollins: It's time to play everyone's favorite game...SHIELD OF JUSTICE!

Canned, fake applause could be heard as a worn down, broken logo barring the slogan Rollins had just uttered hanged from the ceiling. The lights flickered and the footage was grainy. He stood on a platform, which was also covered in lights, and kept that same, completely phony grin on his face. He continued with this overwhelming mockery of a game show premise and entertainers in general.

Seth Rollins: Let's meet our first contestant! 

The lights had switched from blinding to a very colorful mix of purple and green. And then yellow and blue. Not too different from the spectrum of colors that were often seen in many of John Cena's t-shirts.

Seth Rollins: He hails from Brooklyn, New York and he is a former EBWF and WWE Superstar! ...No emphasis on the former because, getting down to the brass tax, the guy was lucky to have a job, jack!

He mugged for the camera and even winked, trying to come off as hammy as John Cena at his purest.

Seth Rollins: Everyone welcome, JTG!

This brought out the performer most known for his stint in the Cryme Tyme team. He also had a brief, run in the EBWF where he was most known for bringing the word "swag" into the audience's collective lexicon. Dressed in all black, in a similar fashion the The Shield, he looked lost and confused. There were some other Shield members in the background, stagehands of sorts, to keep everything in line. 

Seth Rollins: Jay, welcome to the show. Great to have you here. Now tell me. Why do YOU want to join The Shield?

JTG looked down at the mic that was held in front of him. This was not exactly the initiation process he had expected.

JTG: ...Yeah...uh...I want beat the hell out of punk asses like John Cena.

Seth Rollins: Cena IS quite a punk ass, isn't he? He frequently peppers his promo's with childish sort of insults like that to make up for the fact that he isn't very intelligent! Ha, ha, ha! Catering to both the young AND moronic! He's a hip sort of guy that marches to beat of his own drum while CAREFULLY making sure to let the kiddies at home now that good will always prevail! Except John Cena isn't actually a very good human being now is he? Not to mention a POOR role model! A giant, lowbrow muppet to string in everyone dumb enough to buy into his act, isn't that right, Jay? Does it get any worse or more insulting than John Cena?

JTG: ...Uh, yeah. Word. I guess.

Seth Rollins: Thrilling! Now, Jay, step onto that platform and we'll begin!

As instructed, JTG stepped backwards where their was a floor level platform. It was all swamped with lights and he stood on a large, circular disk. A tube rose up from the floor to the ceiling and JTG was now standing inside of it. He pressed his palms against the glass.

JTG: 'Ey man. What is this?

Seth Rollins: Simply part of the game. Now, JTG, you weren't completely honest with our viewing audience. You're here because you have a lack of funds, correct? You left the EBWF and the WWE just sat you at home, wrapped up in contract and never used you. You're broke. Am I right?

JTG tilted his head a bit and began to glare.

Seth Rollins: Let's move on to your question! JTG. For a membership in The Shield. Who would win in a confrontation at Survivor Series. Myself...or John Cena?

Seth spun one of his wrists a few times before directing both pointer fingers towards the wrestler within the tube.

JTG: Uh...you?

A loud buzzing, aggravating buzzing sound was heard.

Seth Rollins: Ooh! So sorry! That was incorrect. That was a very pandering, spineless sort of answer. I'm not just fighting Cena alone, Jay! The Shield never acts alone! We always work together and that's why we're an efficient team. That's also why we're going to be successful at Survivor Series. Unlike John Cena's team who have never worked together and seem to think that hash-tags will get them a victory! But no one ever said John Cena was a genius, now did they? I'm afraid you're going to have to be penalized for being incorrect. 

On cue, the tube began to be filled up with water from the bottom up. Once it reached water level, JTG began to panic and pound his fists against the tube.

Seth Rollins: When you expressed interest in joining The Shield, we did a little research! We found out that as a child you nearly DROWNED and you've been carrying that phobia around ever since! Aquaphobia!

Once the water had reached his chin, JTG began to panic and hyperventilate. His chest was rapidly rising up and down. Rollins seemed to take a very abnormal enjoyment from this as his eyes never once left the scene and he even ran a hand along his face.    

Seth Rollins: ...

It was now clear that this was something far more perverse and macabre than your average mockery. He stared and pressed his hands against the glass, even starting to breathe heavily. Eventually he pulled away and the tube rose up before it could submerge the contestant. The water filled the sound stage and JTG collapsed. He panted and panted and with wide eyes and almost animalistic fury, he charged at the "host" Some of the stagehands were able to snatch JTG by his arms and grapple him away before he got too close.

Seth Rollins: No time to dwell on failure! Let's bring out our next participant!

As the water was being moped up a deep, red light filled the sound stage as loud, guitar driven, heavy metal music began to play. There was unintelligible lyrics but "fuck" and "smoke joints" could be heard plenty of times. It was difficult to tell who this was aimed at. A very petite blonde female stepped out next.

Seth Rollins: This is Daizee Haze! Former ROH, Shimmer and EBWF wrestler! She made quite an impact a few years ago in the Diva's Division until a neck injury sidelined her! Daizee, how are you feeling today?

Daizee: I'm good. My neck is healed. I'm ready to combat injustice.

This seemed to be a far cry from the happy go-lucky hippie that entertained EBWF audiences a few years back.

Seth Rollins: Then go ahead and step on that platform!

Despite witnessing what happened to the first contestant, the former Diva took her stand on the platform. The tube once again encased her as it rose from the floor.

Seth Rollins: Just a few preliminarily questions first. Daizee...making gestures to your crotch in 2013...is that cool?

Daizee: No.

Seth Rollins: What about wearing attire that has an arrow pointing down to the same region with "SUCK" written above it. Cool?

Daizee: No.

Seth Rollins: How about being an old, washed up hasbeen that doesn't know when to walk away? Is that cool? When you're in your fourties does the rebel act just seem a little...forced? Does it begin to think that evolution has just passed Syxx by and he's forever stuck in his Cro-magon, Neanderthal ways? What about the CONSTANT references to drug use? Doesn't that want to make you want to stay away from anything even remotely illegal if you thought that you would become THAT? Or, finally, how about all those promises to return to former glory that just fizzled away after being defeated again and again by younger, fresher talent? Oh, hey, what about his constant sexist tweets that make it seem as if a woman, or anyone for that matter, could POSSIBLY dumber than him? ...Just asking, of course! Audience questions! Don't shoot the messenger!

Seth held up his hands in innocence and rose his eyebrows to the fake audience as canned laughter played. Daizee remained deathly serious.

Daizee: No. None of that is cool.

That louder buzzer sounded again and even such a typically comical sound was starting to bring a sense of dread.

Seth Rollins: Really sorry about that! Incorrect! We know what happened to you, Daizee. You hurt your neck and your already prolific drug use sky rocketed! You even picked up an eating disorder! We here at the Shield feel you aren't here for justice. You're here for your next hit. Too bad you can't win a BRAND NEW CAR on this game show or you could have gone on a date in OD'd in a trunk together! Hey, a lot like Syxx! You're probably just his type! And, wouldn't you know it, your expression is about to look a lot like his Sunday Night! 

Rollins tapped on the glass and spiders began to fall into the tube. It was difficult to tell what kind but they had long, furry legs and were rapidly beginning to line the bottom of the tube. All of their eyeballs, too numerous to even begin to count, were watching her. Daizee squirmed and quickly began to scream in a voice that wasn't easy for anyone with a soul to listen to. She screamed and screamed until the tube rose and she ran as fast as she could, swiping the bugs out of her blonde locks. Seth closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, wiping some sweat from his forehead. This was exciting him. He derived pleasure from something this gruesome.

Seth Rollins: ...So! Our last contestant! Let's bring her on out! Briefly a part of the Shimmer promotion, she is most well known for her time in EBWF! She had a quick reign as Women's Champion and was a member of the VERY popular Poison Trio group! Rayna Von Tosh!

This was a very obscure name for most wrestling fans. Rayna was the most unknown member of The Poison Trio, which also consisted of the very popular Taylor Wilde and the still employed Portia Perez. A tall, curvy redhead stepped out onto the stage. She was skittish and already scared. Dressed like a vintage pin-up girl, kept her back firmly pressed against a nearby wall.

Rayna: I...don't want to do this anymore.

Seth Rollins: But you told us you wanted to get back into wrestling the EASY way! All you have to do is answer a question! Come on over! 

Seth was still playing the role of friendly, disingenuous entertainer and he beckoned the redhead closer. She was still very hesitant but he was trying to coax her over.

Seth Rollins: Rayna. No need to be afraid! Do you know who you're acting like? The Miz and Trent! Complete, insecure cowards! Trent OBVIOUSLY is lacking in self-esteem. That much is painfully obvious by his actions. He has his toy briefcase but just doesn't have the courage to cash it in! He would LOVE to be a World champion but he knows deep down inside that it's never going to happen for him! But if you need a good, reliable laugh and a quirky reference to a video game, he'll be there! Women and men alike use him as a doormat!

It was unknown if any of this was sinking into Rayna's head. She just stood and stared while her eyes shook and her back remained firmly against the wall behind her.

Seth Rollins: Or are you just perfecting your Miz impression? Because, if so, you are doing a WONDERFUL job! Someone so excessively afraid of danger and pain that he ran away for months! Someone without even an ounce of courage! The Miz is not a fighter. His only desire is to be rich and walk red carpets with equally shallow starlets on his arm! I guess he's back to...promote something? Because it surely couldn't be because he has some sort of significant statement to say! We ALL know he's never been much for those! An absoulte sniveling worm if there ever was one! But, hey, don't forget to pick up the new Wii-U and be sure to watch...whatever unwatchable movie The Miz is going to be in next!

Rayna inched closer to the platform but after a deep gulp she shook her head about vigorously and ran away before going through with it. 

Rayna: NO!

A sound that resembled the Price is Right losing horn began to play as Seth turned towards the camera and shrugged. Very sick considering everything that had transpired thus far

Seth Rollins: Well, what can I say, folks? It looks like our little game is...over.

The sparkly tuxedo top was removed and the ponytail was discarded as his hair was flung downwards. The smile and was gone and the usual speech pattern had returned.

Seth Rollins: That was a shadow. THIS is my true self. Do you see now? Do you see how putting forth that kind of facade makes you look? Our opponents have to act like that every time a camera turns on. We are going to wipe out some of the worst offenders in one fell swoop. Miz, Cena, Trent, Syxx...all screaming in a terrible symphony. And the man responsible for it all is getting a front row seat...

The once bright lights began to dim.

Seth Rollins: We wouldn't forget about you, Ikeda. You have such a desire to manipulate and control but at Survivor Series you will find out how helpless you truly are. Your soldiers are not going to be able to protect you. You are going to be become a believer in The Shield even if we have to pry your eyes wide open...

The "Shield Of Justice" logo began to flicker until a small fire began to blaze upon it. The letters started to melt and contort just like the WrestleMania set from earlier in the year. The camera closed in on the burning mess until it faded out.  

Bloodline

- Begin Transmission -


A commercial for upcoming EBWF live events was interrupted. The Shield had commandeered the airwaves once again. A strange camera angle only revealed a pair of black boots slowly progressing through damp grass. It began to be narrated by a deep, powerful voice. One that wasn't heard often but one that surely carried a quiet intensity with it. 

Roman Reigns: Ted DiBiase decided that he wanted to speak about famous wrestling families. He tried to compare us. It's true that when you bring up Ted you can't go very long without thinking about his father. Or even his grandfather to a lesser extent. There's a very big difference, however. While Ted wears his upbringing as a badge of honor, I have to carry mine around like a scar.

As if it needed any form of confirmation, the camera lifted and slowly spun to reveal the face of Roman Reigns. The muscle behind The Shield always appeared to be stone cold serious and this time was no exception. The evening was approaching in the background behind him but where exactly he was filming himself was anybody's guess.

Roman Reigns: I'm in Florida. Where Warfare is taking place and where I trained to become a wrestler. ..Let me rephrase that. Where I was forced to train to become a wrestler. I didn't get an option. Not like Ted. I was told that with my look and size that I HAD to train. That I had to carry on the family name. My career had already been selected for me. Now while I'm sure that Ted's training with Harley Race was no walk in the park..he was given a choice. I'm sure his development took place with the guiding hand of his father who helped to mold him into the man he is today. There was love, good intentions and a sense of pride.

The young powerhouse slowly gave his head a couple of shakes.

Roman Reigns: Not for me. I was still in grade school when I was beaten into submission. Until I finally complied and went through every agonizing second of what my father had in store for me. I couldn't stand up for myself. I was a kid. I was weak. I was also molded into the man you see before you, just like Ted. Except that we became two vastly different human beings. Ted wants to show off his nice home and talk about his money and he's already helped to further put the DiBiase name into the history books. I don't acknowledge my last name or any member of my very extensive family. I don't care about the supposedly proud tradition. I also don't care about how many titles Ted has won or how many records he's broken. His title history and what he's been able to do in the past aren't going to be able to protect him in the immediate present.

Roman's features were beginning to grow darker tense.

Roman Reigns: I'm not sure if it was Ted's intentions or not..but I feel like his promo was a slap in the face. He basically wallowed in all of this wealth that pro wrestling has given him. We've never had a run in with Ted so it's obvious that he isn't aware of what The Shield can have done to him. Maybe he doesn't realize that showing us exactly where he lives isn't a very smart move. Perhaps he doesn't understand that we can literally bring justice to his front door.

There was a brief and very rare sign of a smirk that had appeared upon Roman's face.

Roman Reigns: ..No. I want to do it in the ring. My cohorts like to play with their food. Not me. I'm a little more straight forward. I don't do mind games. I want to break my opponents down with sheer force and power. I want Ted to see that everything he's accomplished doesn't mean anything when you're face to face with someone like me. Someone that can and will hurt you and will make you remember it for a lifetime..

The camera was aimed back down towards the grass once again. There was someone laying at Roman's feet. The person, a male, was laying face first and sprawled out in a heap. A small but noticeable puddle of blood was forming from their head. Whoever it was had long black hair and appeared to be of Samoan descent. 

Roman Reigns: This was one of The Uso's. I actually don't care which one. A cousin of mine. Family. By name only. He approached me because my relatives were apparently tired of the way I was portraying the Anoa'i name. He tried to persuade me to stop and give up the crusade that I fight with The Shield. Do you see him right now?

He zoomed in a bit on the unmoving body of one of the Uso brothers. It remained laying in an uncomfortable and unnatural position.

Roman Reigns: That was my response. That is what happens to anyone who tries to stop what we're doing. I don't think they're going to make the mistake of approaching me again.

Roman turned the camera back towards himself one final time. Each word carried deep, meaningful conviction.

Roman Reigns: And I don't think DiBiase is going to make his mistake a second time either. He wanted to bring up wrestling families to me? There's no chance he's going to think it's a good idea to taunt a bull when it's staring him down ever again. Because I guarantee you that after I'm finished with Ted, he's going to strikingly look a lot like my cousin down there. Someone else who is proud to be a pro wrestler, someone else with a legacy and someone else who pretended that they weren't dead on sight as soon as I laid eyes on them. You can believe that and you can believe IN THE SHIELD.

 - End Transmission -

Burnt To A Crisp

One could never quite tell when EBWF programming was going to be hijacked by the justice craving phalanx known as The Shield. That familiar burst of static could appear at any moment and interrupt without warning. This was one of those moments. The three core members of the lineup stood huddled closely in front of a camera. Not a single one of them appeared to be in a particularly good mood as all six eyes looked particularly blood thirsty on this occasion. It was a complete mystery where exactly this had all been filmed and very little could be seen behind them. 

Dean Ambrose: Mahal.

Seth Rollins: Slater.

Roman Reigns: McIntyre.

Dean Ambrose: Hm. Doesn't exactly have that..ah..same imposing ring to it, does it? 

The apparent leader of the group tapped a few knuckles just above his chin. That introduction of EBWF's resident rock stars didn't quite roll off the tongue. 

Dean Ambrose: Maybe because when you hear those three names all it seems to conjure up is three wannabe rock stars. They could just do the whole world a favor if they really want to play the part and DIE! Go pick up an addiction, take a few speedballs, and pull a Cobain, Nowell, a Moon or a Hendrix and rot! Oh, oh, oh, but don't worry. If they don't have the balls to go through with it we don't have a problem beating them so badly that they're forced to pick up a habit to deal with the physical and emotional trauma. 

Seth Rollins: Since I'm going to assume that 3MB's combined intelligence is floating underneath double digits, I'll offer some assistance. Hydrocodone, acetaminophen, L-methamphetamine and chlorpheniramine. Combine those and save yourselves a whole world of trouble. 

Rollins rattled off the presumably deadly cocktail in an incredibly calm tone of voice. Somewhat disconcerting when you consider the dire subject matter.

Dean Ambrose: There are three core members of 3MB and three core members of The Shield. And that is about where the similarities come to horrific, gut-wrenching halt. I mean, I'm sure there is someone out there who is afraid of air guitar but..it ain't us. We, very literally, burned this place to the ground in front of the largest audience it had ever seen. People ran for their lives so they wouldn't be SET ON FIRE. And, you know..

An unsettling smirk appeared on Ambrose's face when he recalled the infamous Wrestle Mania moment that cemented The Shield into the history books.

Dean Ambrose: I'm sort of getting that itch again. Like, maybe I would really enjoy seeing a sight like that a second time. Maybe, just maybe, purifying all this filth and trash that surrounds us with fire might be the way to go. It might help to illustrate that we don't care who is holding what belt or who is a contender for what title. We'll torch every single building and watch every last superstar go scurrying out like rats. Including 3MB.

Ambrose slowly wiggled a few fingers while moving his wrist sideways, mimicking the movements of vermin running for dear life.

Seth Rollins: Once again, for the benefit of 3MB and the less than stellar intellect of the viewing audience..a fear of fire is classified as pyrophobia. Mahal, Slater and McIntyre weren't there the night we introduced that term into the lexicon of everyone in the EBWF..

Dean Ambrose: So we wouldn't want them to feel left out, would we? When I see 3MB all I see are Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber. Brain dead, worthless little tools used to attract the dumb, deaf and blind. There are people stupid enough out there that might consider 3MB's little song and dance routine "cool". Because God knows wrestling fans are about as dumb and ignorant as it gets.

Rollins shook his head in disgust at the thought of anyone admiring the eclectic group he and his teammates were preparing to face.

Seth Rollins: We take 3MB's existence as a personal insult. If they think that for one single, solitary second that we're going to allow another trio to even PRETEND to be considered in our league..they must somehow be dumber than they look.  

Dean Ambrose: 3MB..The Shield has a song of their own. Their aren't any instruments and we aren't going to be supplying the vocals. You are. But you won't be singing. Our little tune's lyrics are you three screaming, whimpering and begging.  You can believe that..

The powerhouse and the muscle of the team had remained silent. He only spoke when he felt like it and preferred to allow Ambrose and Rollins to be the mouth pieces. But he did deliver one final message.

Roman Reigns: And you can believe in The Shield.

And Reigns' imposing voice would be the last words spoken as static overtook the scene again.        

Noble and Honorable

An undisclosed location? It was difficult to tell. All that was seen was darkness and World Title challenger Dean Ambrose's face. An extreme close up. He had a prominent scowl on his face but despite the nasty look he appeared to be rather calm and collected. He began to speak after a long stare down with the lens of the camera in front of him.  

Dean Ambrose: I'm not an idiot. I'm really not. I knew eventually that what happened to me at Summer Slam was going to go down. I'm just a little surprised that it took so long. Do you want me to be really honest here, like, completely candid? I never thought The Shield was going to be able to last or become as powerful as it has. I mean, seriously, think about. When we first began we didn't have enough bodies to try and tear down a million dollar, billion dollar, whatever it is company. I figured it was a complete and total suicide mission but I didn't have ANYTHING to lose, not a damn thing, so I went for it. Getting to tear this place down brick by brick has been on my mind for so many years I can't even remember. But it started to become clear to me that the people in charge of this festering, shit hole were not going to be able to pull their heads out of their asses long enough to effectively put a stop to it. For maybe a second I thought it was chalked up to arrogance but after WrestleMania there is no way we couldn't have been viewed as the biggest threat to this companies existence. They weren't mistaking us for the nWo or The Nexus or any of those other amateurs. No, no, no, no. They knew how much danger they were in.

The events of the most recent WrestleMania and the absolute chaos and anarchy that unfolded were still fresh in Dean Ambrose's mind and no doubt those of the EBWF fans and roster. 

Dean Ambrose: But they decided to play noble and honorable act. They just set up challengers. "We won't stoop to their level!" they said! They didn't hunt us down or jump us in the parking lot or anything like that. Well, that was until I was about to leave Randy Orton staring up at the lights. Nuh-uh. Couldn't let "The Killer" suffer the same fate as Punk, Cena, Kendrick, Syxx or Miz could we? Nah. That was the last cash cow. Had to save 'em! Wes Ikeda, who some people thought was DEAD, magically appeared to save the day!

Calm was very slowly beginning slip away and it didn't take a genius to tell that it was about to go straight out the window.

Dean Ambrose: Here's the thing. The truth. Everything I did, I did alone. Yeah, whenever someone needed to get beat down, I sicced the entire Shield on em. But every single match I won was on my own and that is a cold, hard fact. Randy Orton, the guy with the longest World Title reign in EBWF history, couldn't get the job done when he went one on one with me. When he looks at that belt he's carrying around he knows in his heart, if he even has one, that it was handed to him. By the monster that created this entire nightmare! These two men who at one time tore each other apart for the better part of a year, who HATED each other, are bond by a common enemy!

The leader of The Shield shrugged his shoulders and scratched his fingers along the side of his facial scruff.

Dean Ambrose: I mean, yeah, Orton's married to his whore of a little sister. They're family. Everything between them is hunky dory and they probably swap Christmas gifts nowadays. They have competitions to see which one is more of a GUTLESS PUSSY! NO 'PROBABLY' ABOUT THAT ONE!

Hair trigger anger was a common trait shown by the former World Champion and he was in rare form on this particular evening.

Dean Ambrose: Guess what? Have you seen something different about my matches lately? Huh? I haven't been against using outside interference. I'll call Rollins, Reigns, and whoever else I feel like into a match every chance I get it! Do you think you're going to screw Dean Ambrose like that and get away with it? It's not happening. Because now I'm going to screw you, twice as hard, grudge style, until you're BLEEDING.

 That display of colorful language and vivid imagery was going to make this promo destined to become an online exclusive. Knowing what he had just said was harsh, Ambrose simply nodded along to his own words.

Dean Ambrose: Yeah, yeah, did you hear that? I don't believe in using protection. I don't even know the meaning of the word. It's time I showed Randy "MILLIONAIRE" Orton all the fun he missed coming up through the indies! Daddy didn't want his precious Randal fighting with barbed wire or glass or light tubes now did he? All those sicks freaks I tore through, my first stop on bringing justice to the EBWF, it's time to bring a little of that back! It's time to make your privileged, stupid fans who THINK they want blood to vomit in their mouths! You can't run from justice and you can't run from The Shield! It's been two long months but finally  I'VE CAUGHT YOU!

The darkness was suddenly met with a huge and sudden splash of light. Ambrose pushed a curtain aside and various different types of shouting could be heard. Negative, positive and pure shock. Dean Ambrose was suddenly standing in one of the hallways of The Wells Fargo Arena in Philadelphia. And he wasn't alone. Not only was he joined by countless, unknown members of The Shield, he was also amongst the fans who were beginning to fill in for Fanniversary. He spread his arms out to soak everything in as he began advance forward, Shield members in tow.  

Dean Ambrose: Well, well, look at what we have here. The Wells Fargo Arena. Look at all these demons just filing in--

One fan made the unfortunate mistake of touching Ambrose on the arm as he walked by. Almost instantly, he turned to the fan, a young man in his early twenties wearing a Trent? shirt, and shoved him roughly to the floor by his face. He screamed down at the ticket holder who was both in surprise and pain.

Dean Ambrose: DON'T TOUCH ME! Pat Randy Orton on his shoulder when he passes you but don't put your hands on me!

The fans were now keeping their distance and giving Ambrose and The Shield a great deal of room to make their way through. Upon spotting one of the merch stands, the purveyor of justice hopped onto the table. The two young women who were aiding with the purchases quickly scattered. Ambrose began to swipe whatever Randy Orton shirts he could find and began lobbying them at whomever passed by with no clear target. 

Dean Ambrose: You want an overpriced shirt? Here! Go home and strangle yourself with it!

After tearing some of the shirts to threads he took a leap back down onto solid ground his black boots. The long, wet bangs that usually covered a portion of his face were pushed but they simply slipped back into place. He began to pace.

Dean Ambrose: I don't appreciate having to suffer so Randy Orton and his SLUT WIFE can live so well. I don't care how many charities she donates to, they're all scams, just like this entire company! You know what else I don't appreciate? Being called a coward. Being called a coward by these "superstars" who WISH they were half as good as me!

As he was prone to do, Ambrose had ventured into full on rant mode. Some of The Shield were nodding in approval, some were audibly cheering him on and and some actually looked a little stricken with worry at the erratic behavior. 

Dean Ambrose: You want me gone? Hm? I don't want to be here either! I didn't want the only thing I cared about taken away from me so RANDY ORTON could slither around in the ring and pretend to be a snake! I didn't want the only thing that made me happy STOLEN so Wes Ikeda could by himself a new car! Bring him back! The only thing I had in the entire world! Bring him back and I'll go away!

Whenever he brought up his tortured past it seemed as though he drifted into a completely different zone. From lucid to intense emotion, back and forth, and without any kind of warning. He hung his head low, gave it a few shakes, balled up his fists so tight that they were changing to a bruise colored purple.

Dean Ambrose: But no one can't bring him back. He's gone. He's dead. Forever. If I went away everyone else that's suffered wouldn't have someone to fight for them! So I can't leave. I won't. I won't leave here unless I have that god damn title around my waist and unless Rand Orton is left such a broken, defeated man that he goes home, ties a cord and kicks a chair. And until I get find a punishment suitable for that Ideka bastard.

Ambrose glared into the camera that a member of The Shield had been assigned to operate. The picture glitched and scrambled for a moment but regained it's clarity. Ambrose was still giving it an absolute, fiery, impassioned stare of death before it distorted completely.           

Amputation

"..Come here..no..it's okay..it's safe..come here.."

The picture on the screen had not materialized yet and as such there was nothing but darkness but a voice could be heard. When some light was finally shed to provide some clarity, a camera man was cautiously filming Seth Rollins. The Shield were known for always supplying they own footage and were always hostile to the EBWF staff but in a strange development one of them was actually asking to be filmed. This very rare occurrence took place shortly after Rollins' match with Brodus Clay and he had only moments before stepped through the curtain that led to the backstage area.

Seth Rollins: Is this what you want to see? A member of The Shield in a moment weakness? Go ahead. Take a look. We're not like you're precious superstars. We don't hide from anything.

The black gloves that covered Rollins' hands pulled his long hair backwards and revealed his face. He gave a sort of agitated laugh.

Seth Rollins: That wasn't exactly my proudest moment but I don't have any excuses nor do I plan on making any. I've beaten former World Champions like Triple H and Edge but I went out there and I lost to some fat, useless nothing who couldn't even get on TV for three months. Because of MY inability to prevail, justice was not served and Brodus Clay is going to be able to walk out of this arena. Of course, if we wanted to, we could find him and find his glorified rats and listen to make them scream all night long. 

Rollins shook his head a couple of times. 

Seth Rollins: Not tonight. Shortly before that match I found out some information. Or rather, we shook the information out of one these backstage stooges. I've got something scheduled that is going to make tonight's setback all worth it. I have match at Fanniversary with Chris Sabin. 

There was another laugh that came from Rollins as he rested a hand against his forehead but it wasn't a provoked one this time. It was one of malice.

Seth Rollins: Chris Sabin who has no doubt been waiting for his chance to take on a member of The Shield. On two separate occasions we have left Chris Sabin helpless, scared and defenseless. The first I struck Chris in his surgically repaired knee and do you know what? I LIKED seeing that look of overwhelming despair grow in his eyes. That exact moment when he realized that he was being fed to the hounds and he had no chance of survival made me smile. The second time was even better. He was just about to compete in a title match and we took that away from him. The best part about the whole thing? He wasn't even our goal. We were just out there to send a message. Sabin was just an afterthought. 

Rollins looked somewhat amused as he stared at the floor beneath his boots before he ripped off the black, riot gear vest he wore to the ring and tossed it aside. He drew in closer to the camera.

Seth Rollins: How does it feel, Sabin? How did that make you feel to be overlooked? That is the exact same sentiment that a lot of your ignorant coworkers seem to share about me. However, I'm going to prove to you, and everyone else, that I am not here to be misconstrued as anyone's henchman or lacky. But after our match is over you are still going to be carrying that same emotion along with you. You are still going to poor, old, useless Chris Sabin who wasn't able to get his revenge. Don't fret too much. I plan on leaving you in so much physical agony that the only thing you're going to be able to think about is how much I hurt you. It's just too bad that no one is going to be around to lend you a shoulder to cry on because like I said..you're an afterthought. I can only imagine what it's going to do to your psyche but I will thoroughly enjoy finding out..

Rollins just smiled into the camera before looking as though he were going to lunge at the man holding it. The operator quickly took a few steps backwards and the founding member of The Shield grinned a little wider at being able to provide even a small fright. It wasn't long before he turned away and the camera man didn't want to test his luck and continue filming. The scene went black.

***

The following scene was more secluded and in line with what had been a standard for The Shield. Grainy self shoot footage without the luxury of HD camera's. Seth Rollins sat in a chair with a table in front of him in what could only be described as an abandoned building. Somewhere sheltered and private and a little run down since it's not as if the Hounds of Justice put too much stock into things like that. Rollins wasn't in his ring gear but he was still dressed in all black and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His arms were folded, one leg kicked over the other and he began to speak with a purpose. 

Seth Rollins: I've had a little time since the last time I decided to step in front of a camera to think. I've had been ruminating over my upcoming match with Chris Sabin and I've come to a conclusion. Or maybe more of a diagnosis. As we're all well aware, Chris Sabin has surgically repaired knee and it's a huge target for all of his opponents. Sabin may have possibly stated in the past that it isn't a hindrance but I believe his win-loss record as of late would say otherwise. Ever since losing his Path To Glory title I don't think he's managed to have his arm raised in victory a single time. He's been battered and beaten down time and time again. I would go out on a limb and say that it's even beginning to effect him mentally.

Seth stopped himself as a little smirk appeared upon his bearded face. 
 
Seth Rollins: ..Ah. Maybe using the phrase "going out on a limb" is a little insensitive when we're talking about someone's busted, ineffective knee. Let's press on. I believe that Chris Sabin may perhaps be experiencing something known as "Body integrity identity disorder". I'm very fascinated by the bodies control over the mind so I make it a point to remain knowledge about this kind of thing. Essentially, it's a psychological disorder wherein the sufferer has an oppressive feeling that one of their limbs does not belong to themselves.

It was certainly very odd for someone to identify perceived illness' out of thin air. Unless Rollins' had seriously been taking time to consider all of this which didn't make it any less strange. He rose from his chair and headed towards a nearby closet which he swung open. But not before lightly shrugging his shoulders to the camera. 

Seth Rollins: Yes, there are some real crazies out there, aren't there? There are a lot of different factors. Apotemnphilia, which I'm not going to get into, a malfunction in the right parietal lobe..but when you break it all down it spells out that Chris Sabin is not well. He's sick. He is never going to feel complete until something is done about that leg. Unfortunately, there isn't much in the way of any real treatment. Well. There is one way.

Rollins pulled out a pale colored mannequin leg from the closet. A male's. He tapped it against his palm a few times. 

Seth Rollins: ...Amputation. Someone like Sabin, who is suffering from this, has to deal with thoughts of intense envy and jealously. They truly believe that amputation is the only way they can ever be happy again. Which is precisely why I believe surgery is in order...

Now he seemed to be studying the fake leg very intently.

Seth Rollins: ...The most common request is an above the knee amputation. I'm going to fulfill Chris Sabin's request Sunday night. Besides, all of those single minded thoughts of revenge he has towards us in The Shield aren't very healthy anyway. Especially when you consider he doesn't have a sliver of a chance if he's trying to stand up to us.

Rollins smoothed his hands along surface of the discarded mannequin appendage and stared at it for an uncomfortably long amount of time.  

Seth Rollins: Yes! Amputation is the only way! 

The limb was raised high above his head and brought smashing down onto the table he was standing over. Repeatedly. Until it was broken to pieces and there was nothing left for Rollins to hold in his palms. The remains littered the floor. The activity caused Rollins' two-toned hair to hang down in front of his face and he swept it backwards. 

Seth Rollins: Chris Sabin needs to believe that and everyone else needs to believe...in The Shield.

The piercing eyes of The Shield member never left the camera's lens as the scene reached it's end.

I Hope You Suffer

It wasn't often than an EBWF camera was on a member of The Shield as they typically filmed themselves in the middle of God knows where. But in this instance there was. Dean Ambrose was found outside of Freedom Hall in a secluded, shadowy corner. The leader of The Shield was crouched with his arms over his head, facing one of the concrete walls. The camera zoomed in a little closer and foot steps could be heard drawing near. There were two possible reasons for this:

1. Someone had not informed Renee Young that it was a good idea to stay as far away as possible from any member of The Shield. 

2. She was really brave or really stupid.

The tiny blonde drew closer with some degree of wise hesitation. 

Renee Young: ...Dean..Dean..

The former World Champion didn't budge an inch or even flinch. He was either deep in concentration or completely ignoring the voice he heard. 

Renee Young: Excuse me..Dean..about your match with--

Unfortunately for Renee, this was enough to stir Ambrose's attention. He rose up to his full 6'4'' height and towered over the interviewer. With cutting speed he spun around and shockingly snagged the young woman by the throat. He didn't squeeze but he was pressing her back against the wall of the arena behind her. It didn't take much effort for him to hold such a diminutive person still. Some of those blonde locks were brushed aside as he forced her head to tilt sideways and leaned towards her ear.

Dean Ambrose: What are you saying to me? What do you want from me? Can you not see that I'm getting ready for my match? 

He released her neck but kept a hand on the side of Renee's head, one of his arms sort of wrapped around her. To her credit her eyes were closed and her face was scrunched up but she wasn't screaming. 

Dean Ambrose: What's your name? Michael Cole interviewed me once and he was shaking like a leaf. You're really stiff but your knee's aren't shaking or anything. I kind of like that.

Renee's head was pulled back and she still didn't open her eyes.

Dean Ambrose: What were you asking me? You can relax, you know. Did they think because they sent a cute girl I would suddenly start giving interviews? You have some balls. Well, not literally, that would be really off putting with the rest of your appearance, wouldn't it? Look, I'm being funny but you're not smiling or laughing or even looking me in the eye. You still haven't told me your name. That's pretty rude.

Ambrose's behavior and speech pattern seemed very erratic and quietly unstable.

Dean Ambrose: I know that I've got a match with Jay Briscoe. He looks like a guy that's been in a few fights in his life and that's good because this is going to be a fight. I think I feel like upping the intensity because I got screwed over at Summer Slam and everyone knows it but no one is going to admit. Were you going to ask me how I felt about getting completely fucked over by Randy Orton and Wes Ikeda? No? You weren't? 

Renee had begun wiggling but even just a tiny bit of effort from Ambrose kept her still.

Dean Ambrose: Do me a favor since you seem to think we're such pals that you can just stroll up and interview me. Go find Jay Briscoe and let him know that I'm here, tell him exactly where I am, tell him I'm alone, and to come find me. Or if you want to tell him in his language, tell him I called him a "little, punk bitch" and to meet me in the parking lot. Because if I have to come down to the ring, in front of those undomesticated, ravenous fans, I'm going to bring the rest of The Shield with me and his current existence as he knows it is going to be a lot more painful. Did you get all of that? Suzie? You look like a Suzie. Good.

Ambrose looked as though he were going to release Renee but pulled her in a little more snugly as she began to slip away. She still tried to struggle herself to freedom but realize it was a futile effort.

Dean Ambrose: If you come around me or anyone else in The Shield again I won't forget that you gladly work for a bunch of death merchants. I won't forget that you're just as guilty as everyone else and you need to be introduced to swift, uncompromising justice. Note that I said swift. I'm not a monster. I wouldn't let you suffer.

This was Renee's cue to make her exit and Ambrose released her finally, throwing the arms that had kept her locked in place towards the sky. He leaned back against the arena again, his unkempt, messy hair dangling in front of his face while the camera man recalled the threat against him and quickly began to switch his equipment off but...

Dean Ambrose: You on the other hand..

A group of Shield members began to swarm around the lone camera man. His equipment was shut off but not by his own hands. His ultimate fate was left a mystery but with the impending group drawing closer, it didn't seem as though there were many possible outcomes..