The usual dim moonlight and Vegas-fuelled glow was this time lighting up a small bathroom. It had the necessities – a shower, a sink, a mirror above it and a toilet. There was a carelessly strewn towel draped over the toilet seat and a small waste bin overflowing with empty toilet rolls. Nobody was in the room, but a voice could be heard bounding from outside of it.
Dean Ambrose: By the tights… By the FREAKING TIGHTS!
Loud banging accompanied every sentence.
Dean Ambrose: What’s the POINT?! Elimination Chamber-
BANG
Dean Ambrose: absolutely destroy myself-
Bang
Dean Ambrose: AGAIN?! That’s all they want… I’m nothing but a-
A bang, and a loud smash.
Dean Ambrose: WHORE! Those sado-masochistic-
A hoof, and then another smash.
Dean Ambrose: FREAKS! Why do they love watching me do it!? And all to be rolled up and beaten because of my-
One last bang.
Dean Ambrose: FREAKING TIGHTS! WHAT SORT OF GRAND FINALE…
He entered the bathroom and went straight to the mirror. He had absolutely no clothes on.
Dean Ambrose: He won’t be able to roll me up if I show up NAKED.
-The Following Morning-
The sun was now the source of light, making an early-spring appearance and beautifully illuminating the scene outside a formal looking building. Dean Ambrose emerged from the building, accompanied by a man in the suit.
Suit: This is the last time, Dean. Seriously! Next time you pull something like this it won’t just be a night sobering up in the cage.
Dean Ambrose: I was just testing something new out!
Suit: What – being a nudist?! You can’t just decide that you’re going to walk around in public naked! I have places to be, Dean. Stay out of trouble, you hear me?
The man in the suit hastily walked off in the opposite direction to Dean. Ambrose, who appeared to be wearing a mismatched set of clothes from a lost property box, sighed.
Dean Ambrose: I swear it was a good idea… But I can’t remember why… Taxi!
A taxi cab pulled over by the side of the road next to Dean. He got in the back.
Dean Ambrose: To the airport, my good man!
Taxi driver: You look like an extra from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air… playing a hobo.
Dean Ambrose: But I’m rockin’ it, right?
And off the taxi went towards McCarran International. Outside of drunken stupors, Dean had been trying to keep upbeat since the Royal Rumble. Things had obviously not gone the way he wanted them to, and usually this would have driven him to a state of over-dwelling, over-thinking and punishing himself. However – he and Sam had torn the house down. He knew even before he heard the ‘this is awesome chants’ that it was going to be one for the books. The build-up had been brutal – Dean had the scars to prove it.
They had done it their way, which meant actually ripping each other apart as opposed to working safely with each other. It’s how they had always done it and how they always would. But when it came to the match itself, they had surprised everyone with a wrestling masterclass, proving that they weren’t just a couple of bloodthirsty brawlers. Ambrose had proven himself a legitimate top tier performer in the EBWF once again, and Solomon Crowe had silenced anyone who doubted he had the credibilities to be a respected World Champion.
Now, however, Dean had to work his way to that top spot once again. He’d got the call the night prior – he was to face Syxx in a qualification match to gain entry into the Elimination Chamber match at the next pay-per-view. He had history with Syxx, but that was all in the past to him now. He was a new Dean, with a new outlook and new focuses. Sure, he had his demons, but they never got in the way of his work. His passion. He hoped the EBWF brass had noticed this. They’d put him in the main event of Warfare once again, though… He knew they had faith in him.
-Monday February 10th – Austin, TX-
A taxi cab pulled up outside of the Frank Erwin Centre in Austin, Texas, and out stepped a fresh looking Dean Ambrose, complete with new jeans and a new leather jacket, but still with the seriously questionable colourful patterned shirt he’d obtained from the police station. He leaned into the taxi window.
Dean Ambrose: Hey thanks for taking me shopping, man. You’ve just made hundreds of women very happy.
He handed over a wad of cash.
Taxi driver: Women come to these shows?
Dean turned and walked towards the arena. There were a group of fans camped outside waiting quite a distance away, and Ambrose considered going over to surprise them, but decided against it and headed straight for the back entrance. Upon entrance, he jumped in fright, as he was immediately greeted by a cameraman and EBWF’s own Todd Grisham.
Dean Ambrose: Jesus, Todd. You’re a real creepy little weirdo y’know that? Is this what you think ‘shock journalism’ is?
Todd looked down to the floor and shook his head. He looked miserable.
Todd Grisham: Ever since they hired Renee Young, no-one ever wants to talk to me anymore. They all want to be interviewed by that BIMBO.
He stomped his foot at the word ‘bimbo’. Dean turned to the cameraman.
Dean Ambrose: And you’re the poor sap who’s been lumbered with him for the day?
The cameraman peeped round from behind his camera.
Cameraman: Nah, bro. I used to be Coachman’s cameraman, but idiots kept superkicking my camera into my face. Then I did a stint with Renee but we got kidnapped twice. I’m appreciating the quiet life.
Todd Grisham: We’ve had some interviews!
Cameraman: We literally did a feature on catering yesterday.
Todd Grisham: Hey that was some hard-hitting-
Dean Ambrose: THIS IS BORING. Right, you’ve got me. Albeit in quite a predatory way, but I’m here. And I’m quite the big deal… right? Let’s get you noticed, little guy!
Dean walked ahead of them and signalled for them to follow. They eventually arrived at the official EBWF interview area, complete with curtain and television. Dean turned and opened his arms.
Dean Ambrose: Welcome to the big leagues, kiddo.
Todd Grisham: I’m like a decade older than you!
Dean Ambrose: Roll the camera! I know how to do a super kick! C’mon Todd, do your thing.
The camera light went red, and Todd cleared his throat and lifted his microphone to his lips.
Todd Grisham: Uh… I’m here with uh…
Dean snatched the microphone from Todd.
Dean Ambrose: MY THOUGHTS? YOU WANT MY THOUGHTS?! Do I HAVE the World Title around my waist?
He held the microphone to Todd.
Todd Grisham: Well…
Dean Ambrose: No I do not! Solomon Crowe STOLE one at the Royal Rumble! And I…I!... I respect that. He did what he had to do, and he’s still the World Champion. And that’s the main thing, right? RIGHT?
Todd nodded frantically.
Dean Ambrose: WRONG! The main thing is what’s COMING for Solomon Crowe. We’ve had our first dance on the main stage, and boy it’s left me desperate to tango with him once again. We tore the HOUSE DOWN at the Rumble. Those 30 boys that came afterwards had to pull it out of the bag just to stop the crowd from thinking the show was over! But like I said, Crowe – it isn’t over. I worked my ass off to get a shot at you, and I’ll do it again. And next time – it’ll be even sweeter. As long as we’ve got blood in our veins, we’ve got spilling to do.
Todd signalled for his microphone. He clearly had a brainwave.
Dean Ambrose: Woah, you have a question?!
Todd nodded. Dean passed him the microphone, looking excited.
Todd Grisham: You talk about working to get another shot at Solomon Crowe-
Dean snatched the microphone again.
Dean Ambrose: Exactly, Josh – it all starts with Syxx.
Todd looked simply depressed.
Dean Ambrose: Syxx… We’ve had our run-ins in the past… Wow, that’s a really generic wrestling thing to say… SYXX! We’ve went to WAR in the past. Back in the Shield days and back when I was at the top of the mountain. And I know you love to dwell on the past…
Dean threw up a ’2 sweet’ hand sign to the camera, and bopped the camera with it.
Dean Ambrose: But me? I’m all about the future. That’s all behind me. Hell, I’ve drank enough since then that I’m not even sure if you’re the 1-2-3 Kid or PJ Polaco. But I know you as Syxx. When I got here again you were the Intercontinental Champion, and you went and messed that up, didn’t you? So here’s your big chance to make up for it… It’s a shame you’re running into me at the first hurdle. I’m a much different animal from the one you’ve tangled with before. I’m focused on three things – performing, wooing and succeeding. And I’m not putting on much of a show if I’m taking a 3-count from you, am I? I lose to you, and I’m back at the bottom of the ladder. Fortunately, I have even more incentive when it comes to beating you – the Elimination Chamber.
Dean took a step towards the camera and leaned in towards the lens. He spoke a little more quietly.
Dean Ambrose: They call it a demonic structure… They call it a steel hell… More BRUTAL than any cage. More EVIL than any Hell in a Cell… Well do you wanna know what I call something like that, Syxx? I call it home. Grinding people’s faces into chains. Smashing their carcasses through glass. Slamming their lifeless corpses onto steel… I’m getting chills just thinking about it. That’s home to me, Syxx. And I’m longing to be there. I’ll make as short a job of you as possible to make sure I get there as quickly as I can. But I hope you have turned a new corner in your life, because while I have to get through you, I don’t want to be beating a dead horse. I at least want a bit of a challenge… Because that’s what it’s all about… putting on a show. Hell, I think you’re a cool guy. It’s just a shame this is where the road to redemption ends for you. I just hope the beating I give you doesn’t land you in rehab, or worse…
Dean took a step back from the camera, and looked at Todd. He could he heard saying ‘what about Symphony?’.
Dean Ambrose: Symphony? I’ve wrote hundreds of those. What, you didn’t know I wrote for orchestras? Jesus Christ, Gordon – do your research.
Dean composed himself and turned to the camera, looking very professional.
Dean Ambrose: Well EBWF Universe, that’s all from Dean Ambrose. He seems ready and determined for tonight. What do you think? Log onto your Bebos and blaze those forums about how amazing Dean Ambrose is! I’ve been Dean Ambrose- and YOU have been entertained. Now if you don’t mind, there are some fans outside waiting to have their day’s made.
He walked off camera and headed to the exit. The camera focused on Todd, who looked lost without a microphone. A voice could be heard in the distance.
Dean Ambrose: Oh! Almost forgot!
Out of nowhere, a microphone flew into the shot and collided with Todd’s head. Todd signalled for the cameraman to turn the camera off whilst holding his head. The scene closed.