The man’s eyes are covered by black, squared frames accompanied by the same tint of frames. His hair appears shaggy, almost unkempt like a surfer, and the portion that is not visible is due to a black hood draped over his forehead. He clears his throat and pulls his hand into view, pressing a cigarette between his lips. He inhales and then blows out a cloud of smoke that drifts towards the light. The excess smoke from the tip of his cig continues lifting towards the light, creating a near ominous feeling. His opposite hand raises towards his face as he drags his fingernails into his beard, scratching at the mane.]
Jon Moxley: “Ya know…”
The man stops speaking to clear his throat.
Jon Moxley: “Ya know… This place seems so strange to me. Ya know? So here I sit… before you now… You all know who I am, but you don’t know why I’m here.”
[He mumbles a “yeah” and smacks his lips in a near-Heath Ledger Jokeresque manner. He follows that with a mutter of “okay” before continuing.]
Jon Moxley: “I’m not gonna lie. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why these cameras are here. I have no idea what I’m doing in this place. I have no idea why I wear this face. I have no idea if I’ll win the race. I have great teeth, never had a…”
[The man forces an extremely false smile, showing a perfect set of pearly whites.]
Jon Moxley: “Brace.”
[The man laughs quietly and mumbles incoherent nonsense before taking another drag of his cigarette. This time the smoke escapes his lungs through his nose and mouth before he puts out the cigarette onto the wooden table before him. He stares at the burn mark and ashes now embedded into the table. He pouts his lip slightly before removing his sunglasses. He stares a few moments longer before inhaling deeply and immediately exhales his breath of air.]
Jon Moxley: “Mess.”
[The man points to the burn mark on the table.]
Jon Moxley: “Mess.”
[The man looks around for some assistance, seemingly confused.]
Jon Moxley: “Umm, we have a mess here. Clean up on aisle one.”
[His laugh takes over uncontrollably.]
Jon Moxley: [mumbled] “Aisle one. Clean up.”
[The man raises his fist and brings it crashing down to the table, loudly smashing against its wooden top. The light swings ever so slightly due to his knuckle nipping the light fixture. The blood starts dripping from the nick as he brings the wound to his lips and sucks off the blood in an attempt to stop the flow.]
Jon Moxley: “Sort of stings…”
[He peels his hood back and runs his fingers through his dirty blonde hair and shakes his head while leaning his neck back. He pops his neck to each side and then stares intently into the camera lens with his intimidating glare.]
Jon Moxley: “But this mess! And this pain! They have absolutely NOTHING on what mess I am going to make while putting Pete Dunne through the worst pain of his life!”
[His expression becomes confusion, and he starts looking towards around and questioning.]
Jon Moxley: “Dunne? Is that right? Dun? Dunne? Dune? That might be right…”
[His face gives away his mind’s epiphany. He points to his temple with his index finger while grinning like a mad genius. He gets up from the chair and disappears into the shadows.]
Jon Moxley: “Now I know I saw that…”
[A loud crash is heard and the sound of stumbling occurs simultaneously.]
Jon Moxley: “Whoops. What was that?”
[There’s another loud crash similar to the sound of glass breaking.]
Jon Moxley: “Sounds expensive… Why’s it so dark in here? Oh, wait, here it is.”
[The man walks back into view and slams the book he is holding in his hands onto the table. The words “Merriam-Webster Dictionary” are illuminated under the brightness. He opens the book about a quarter of the way through. He skims through the pages, flipping back quite a few. He presses his index finger to the page and rummages through the words on the pages. He stammers and grumbles while browsing the dictionary. He gets to where he was aiming and begins reading.]
Jon Moxley: “Ah-ha. Here it is… Dune: a hill or ridge of sand piled up by the wind. Well, that doesn’t sound so menacing… Sounds like… Wait, that’s not the right word.”
[He continues perusing the pages, flipping through a few more before coming to a stop at what he was initially looking for.]
Jon Moxley: “That’s the one. Done: arrived at or brought to an end. That sounds about right. Um… doomed to failure, defeat, or death. That sounds a little drastic but makes sense. I’m not necessarily trying to kill anybo…”
[His voice trails off into a mumble once again.]
Jon Moxley: “Gone by, over, physically exhausted, when cooking… cooked sufficiently… conformable to social convention. That’s interesting…”
[He scratches at the underside of his beard, below his chin and towards his neck. This just before he looks back to the camera.]
Jon Moxley: “Remember that, Pete Dunne. Remember what sort of implications come with a name like yours. Realize that everything I have said here today is synonymous with who and what you are. Arrived at… EBWF. Yep, we’ve both done that. Your career – brought to an end. I would be hiding my face in public whenever I had to go out if I were you after I saw what I did to ya. Or what you did to me, if you were me. Doomed to failure. Doomed to defeat. Do you hear that?”
[The man smirks facetiously.]
Jon Moxley: “Failure and defeat go hand-in-hand. For you at least. Which isn’t a bad thing. At least you have some purpose in this life. You are going to lay down for my success and victory. How convenient for us. So, in all honesty, I appreciate the foreshadowing brought with an opponent that possesses a name like yours. Gone by… see ya later, kid. Over? That’s really me, but… Conformable to social convention. There’s nothing conforming about who I am or what I represent, and I really hope you can bring that to the table as well. But it doesn’t matter either way, does it?”
[The smirk becomes more evil than before.]
Jon Moxley: “So stick a fork in Pete. He’s done… Get it…? Done? Done. Dunne.”
[The man brushes some of his bangs from his eyes as he reaches to a page that sticks out further than the rest. He opens the dictionary to that abnormal sheet while tilting his head and looking up and moving towards the camera.]
Jon Moxley: “You know that old saying? ‘Look my name up in the dictionary’? Or ‘look up the word bitch and there you’ll find a picture of your mom’… You know those old-school insults?”
[The man scoffs before going on.]
Jon Moxley: “Well, if you look up my name in the dictionary, there will be a picture of me. And you will remember the name…”
[He sets the book on the table in a vertical position, showing the pages to the audience members watching. The camera zooms in on the photo, which appears to be a headshot with a botched autograph signed on the photo.]
Jon Moxley: “…of Jon… Moxley.”
[The scene fades to black as a commercial for Rocket League plays across the screen.]