Auld Lang Syne

[Billy]

The black and white shot opened on Elias sitting on a barstool. A single point of light rained down over him in an otherwise pitch black room. Just a few feet away his guitar was resting on a stand, just at the edges of the light. Elias had a smug look on his face.

Elias Samson: Ladies and gentlemen, two thousand and eighteen hasn’t been the best year for Elias Samson in the EBWF. It’s not really even been a year to tell the truth. I think we can count on two hands the number of matches I’ve been booked on this year. House shows. I’m the king of house shows in EBWF. And, I don’t mean like Dalton Castle always claims to be. I mean a real King. Kings.

Elias let out a slight chuckle.

Elias Samson: Seems like the EBWF has enough royalty for an entire Universe. Oh hey, what do you know. Makes sense now. King of Goths, Drama King, King of… Whatever the hell Almas claims to be King of! I’m tired of kings and crowns. The EBWF oligarchy is shit! But this year is about to come to a close. Thankfully. That means it’s time for resolutions and revolutions! I resolve to have a bigger impact on EBWF television even if I have to make my own moments! If I have to kick down every locker room backstage and drag these so called superstars out to the ring one at a time, by god it will be done!

Elias stood up in a hurry, knocking the stool backwards. It bounced out of the circle of light and came to a rest somewhere in the darkness.

Elias Samson: My resolution to start a revolution begins tonight when I walk down to that ring and face off against Tommaso Ciampa! Ciampa, I’m sorry that my new year starts a day early. I’m sorry that your new year is going to get off to such a bad start. I’m sorry that we weren’t meeting under different terms. Because, I think maybe you’d have been a good face for this revolution I’m planning. You too had the pleasure of working with our Gateway Champion before he went soft. You too don’t give a damn what the people in the crowds think about you and how you get things done. I like that. I admire that. I’ve seen the lengths you’ll go to be the winner at the end of any given match. And, while I wish it could have been different, it isn’t. We have the hand we’ve been dealt and that hand puts you in my way. That hand makes you my rival even if it’s only for this one match.

Elias picked up the guitar and held it in front of him as if to play it.

Elias Samson: I’m coming to Warfare with this beauty strapped across my chest. I’m going to walk down to that ring, sing one of the best damn songs you’ve ever heard, read your eulogy and then. Then I’m going to bury you in two thousand and eighteen! And, I don’t mean that as an insult. I’m going to bury you because I know that’s the only way you’re going to stay down for the three. I respect you and because I respect you I’m going to have to hurt you. I’m going to have to push you to the limit like you were pushed at Christmas Eve of Destruction. Push you to the limit and watch you topple over the other side. This coming year is mine.

Elias rolled the guitar over to reveal a picture of Tommaso Ciampa’s face with crosshairs over it. The shot faded out with Elias laughing.