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.
