Dean Ambrose: What the fuck is going on?
Roman Reigns: Askin' the wrong person.
Dean Ambrose: A week before the show and Orton is gone? Who is running this circus?
Roman Reigns: So it's a pretty safe bet that Randy DIDN'T toss a glass of water into Vince's face.
Ambrose laughed sarcastically and pressed the remains of the cigarette into the while behind him.
Dean Ambrose: Yeah, I guess not. Figured he was smarter than to fall for whatever Vince was throwing at him. Guess not. He promised me the world and I saw through it so a guy that knows him better than me shouldn't be such a dumb ass. How do I know he's not going to go out there and half-ass the match? It's CONFIRMED on the website that he's gone so why should he even care? He's not even getting his ninety days.
He quickly sparked up another cancer stick from a silver colored lighter and exhaled the smoke deeply.
Dean Ambrose: I'll fuck him up. I'll break his face if he tries to pull some Goldberg vs Lesnar at Wrestle Mania shit on me.
Roman Reigns: Man, you had gave some thought to leaving to just a month ago. I don't think you should go out there and start throwing real punches.
Dean Ambrose: Who's going to care?! If he's heading over to Vince no one is going to give a shit if I beat his ass!
Roman Reigns: Orton doesn't look like a pussy to me. Just saying.
Ambrose flicked aside his cigarette and nodded along, again in an overly sarcastic, animated manner. He was getting worked up and paranoid from dealing with the unknown.
Dean Ambrose: Oh, well, thanks Joe. I think as long as I don't get anywhere near his freakishly huge thighs, I should be good!
Roman simply rubbed a couple of fingers along his temple while Dean threw his head backwards and made an agitated groaning sound.
Dean Ambrose: ..If this is some kind of work and no one tells me before the match I'm going to be really fucking pissed off.
Roman Reigns: You haven't heard anything?
Dean Ambrose: NOPE.
Roman Reigns: I'm sure someone would have said something to you.
Dean Ambrose: They sure as hell didn't tell Punk when he dropped the title to Christian!
The member of the Anoa'i family didn't have a counter argument for that. After a pause he rubbed at his chin.
Roman Reigns: ..Good point.
Obviously, his team mate wasn't going to be able to provide any answers. He was going to have to talk to someone in charge. Nothing going on made any sense. Wouldn't the buyrate die a horrible death if everyone knew the outcome of the main event beforehand? Was Orton even going to show up with the intent of performing at his best? He didn't want to find himself in the same spot Punk did right before Mania. There were a lot of thoughts weighing heavily on his mind. Where the hell was Wes Ikeda when you needed him?
In 1992 Los Angeles was a warzone after a race riot erupted that made the city a very dangerous place to be. Lootings, arsons, and civil disturbance were rampant. Although the events leading up to these scenario's were very different, the situations were similar. The Shield had turned the EBWF into a battleground and just two short weeks ago a riot took place. There attacks had become far more frequent and broader with each passing occurrence. At Summer Slam they were planning something big and on this evening a slew of men in black gear stood on the streets of South Los Angeles. The same streets were complete chaos ensued after the verdict was announced. More than a decade later the memory remained. Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns were at the forefront and Dean Ambrose, the leader, stood closest to the camera.
Dean Ambrose: In 1992 an injustice took place and the people of Los Angeles decided to act. They refused to stand idly by and allow a corrupt system to dictate their lives. They acted and for six straight day's they tore every inch of this city apart. At Summer Slam we are going to make those riots look like a camp fire..
From anyone else this might have seemed like an empty threat but when it's coming from The Shield it's almost gospel at this point.
Dean Ambrose: And there isn't anyone who is going to be able to stop us. Everyone that gets lined up in front of us gets knocked right back down into the dirt. Miz. Waltman. Triple H.
Ambrose looks back over his shoulder at the men formed behind him with a wicked grin appearing on his face.
Dean Ambrose: Ah..speaking of Hunter..he's not around anymore, is he? Do you know why? WE SCARED HIM TO DEATH. We scared him so badly that he's left his wife all alone! The Game, The King of Kings, whatever you want to call 'em, WE MADE HIM A COWARD!
He shouted to the camera and Triple H himself as he hoped he could hear him wherever he was at the moment.
Dean Ambrose: And we're going to do the exact same thing to Randy Orton. I think we're already halfway there. When we dropped him flat on his back on that steel ramp I could hear him whimper and I could see the look of utter defeat in his eyes. He didn't want anymore of that, he didn't want anymore of The Shield and he didn't want anymore of ME. I don't care what he says, how he walks, or how he acts..he knows that he is DONE.
Dean Ambrose: I do take solace in the fact that Randy Orton is not going to insult me with inane, cartoon threats like John Cena. He isn't going to be more concerned with his shitty taste in music rather than ALL OF THIS like Waltman. But he is going to beg just like them. Oh yeah. The great Randy Orton and his year plus long title reign that doesn't mean SHIT to me!
Ambrose adjusted the championship title that rested on his shoulders and gave the plate a few pats. It's shine and luster continued to drain and fade away every time it made an appearance.
Dean Ambrose: Oh, Orton said he only wants this title right here so I won't have it. That's his motivation? That's what he's bringing to the fight? Well, I've mentioned that I don't give a damn about this piece of junk. I've literally spit on it! Do you want to know my motivation? I want to knock Orton's teeth out because he's married to one of the monsters who helped create this abortion of a company. I want him to never show his face again like Bo Dallas, like Triple H, because he is an inherently evil human being without a single redeeming quality to his name! That's what I'm fighting for!
He drove the point home by directing a thumb directly towards his heart which was hidden behind his thick black vest.
Dean Ambrose: I am a man of my word. When I say I'm going to do something..it happens. When I'm done with Orton, when this company's next line of defense inevitably fails, we are going to kill Summer Slam just like we killed Wrestle Mania. I'm a better man than Randy Orton, I'm a better fighter and he's going to admit it to the whole world!
The men behind Ambrose nodded in approval at the words of their captain.
Dean Ambrose: Randy's said that the only reason anyone else got a shot at a title run is because he allowed it to happen. No. NO! That's not the case! The only reason Orton even got his bloated, overrated World Title in the first place is because I wasn't around to kick his ass! Yeah, trust me, even at his very best, when he was on top of the world, he wouldn't have been able to touch me! He wouldn't have done it then, he can't do it now. I'm better than he ever was or could hope to be! It's actually god damn scary how good I am!
He smirked, only for a moment, and smacked his lips while keeping his eyes bored straight through the camera.
Dean Ambrose: Enjoy it, Orton. Enjoy it all. Enjoy every last thing I do to you! Embrace every drop of blood that I draw from your face with my fists. Salivate every last time my knuckles crash into your beady little eyes you privileged fuck! DREAM about your wifes pretty little eyes when they stare down at you and they can't even recognize what they're looking at anymore!
The World Champion was growing angrier with each word that came from his mouth.
Dean Ambrose: What I’m gonna do is I’m gonna take this belt here, I’m gonna shrink it down to a vapor, and it’s gonna pass through my skin, into my pores, into my blood cells, and it’s gonna become a part of my body. It’s gonna become a part of me. This belt, from this moment on, is going to pump along with my heart, my blood. Every breath that I take with my lungs will be taken along with this belt. And then nobody can take it from me because it’s a part of me. So Randy Orton if you ever want it back, if you ever wanna take this home again? You’re gonna have to drag my dead body down the street with you. You aren't man enough to do that. So be prepared to burn like everyone else.
For the very first time possibly ever, Ambrose didn't throw the title into a heap or disgrace it. Instead he kept a death grip on the gold and kept it attached to his shoulder like an extra appendage.
