Spring was finally starting to rear is head in many parts of the United States, although less so for Brock Lesnar's family home in Alexandria, Minnesota. With temperatures rising after an excruciatingly long winter, it was still in the late thirties for his hometown, with the promise of more pleasant weather to come. For a man who has spent his life successfully in pursuit of large sums of money, Lesnar lived in a modest home in a small town of less than 13,000 people. The only thing that wasn't very modest was his truck, which was one of the few things that he had no problem spending a large amount of money on. A black Ford F-450 Platinum with chrome piping and trim, complete with all of the options available. He even invested in a snow plow, which he used every winter to the delight of his neighbors. With the weather finally deciding to warm up, it was time to unlatch the snow plow on the front of his truck, and store it until later in the year. He had the massive truck halfway into the garage, as it was too large to fit completely. Utilizing his freakish strength, he carefully removed the plow off the front frame of his truck and slowly maneuvered the 900 pound blade onto a wheeled slat that he pushed into the corner of the garage. Getting back into his truck, he backed it out of the garage and parked it in his driveway. He headed back inside the house. Inside, Paul Heyman was hanging out at the kitchen pass through, engaging in idle conversation with Brock's wife, Rena. Their attention immediately went towards Brock as he walked in, hanging up his keys and taking his jacket off.

Paul Heyman: I could have helped you, you know.

Brock Lesnar: I bet. Could have been my cheerleader.

Rena Lesnar: I've been trying to get him to hire someone to do all the plowing for years.

Paul Heyman: You'll never convince him to do that. As long as he's strong enough to load that oversized plow blade onto his truck, he's going to do it himself.

Rena Lesnar: You don't have to tell me that. My husband is as stubborn as he is strong.

Brock Lesnar: How's dinner coming?

Rena Lesnar: Almost done, babe. Are you going to work out afterwards?

Brock Lesnar: Yeah, going to lift some weights downstairs for a little bit.

The former WWF diva nodded silently. She slid oven mitts on and opened the oven, producing a large rack with three large sirloin steaks resting on it. She stacked two of the steaks on top of each other, spooned some potatoes on the plate and placed it in front of her husband. The other steak, with its potato complement, wound up in front of Paul Heyman. Heyman eagerly began cutting into the meal.

Paul Heyman: This looks absolutely wonderful, Rena. Thank you so much.

Rena smiled and patted Paul on the back.

Rena Lesnar: Aw, you know you can drop by any time, Paul.

She leaned in and kissed Brock on the cheek.

Rena Lesnar: I'm going to bed, darlin'. You go work out nice and hard so you can beat John Cena into a pulp, okay?

Brock smirked.

Brock Lesnar: I could sit on my ass for a year and still beat him up.

Rena gave him another kiss and headed off to bed at the other end of the room. Heyman quietly cut up his steak and took a couple bites before finally speaking up.

Paul Heyman: She seems to be in a good mood. Nice change of pace?

Brock Lesnar: Not sure. We had a big fight yesterday because she doesn't think I'm workin' enough dates. Suddenly she's bribing me with steak and potatoes, and kissin' me on the cheek like she wasn't bitching at me yesterday for being a part timer.

Paul Heyman: Well, maybe she's feeling a little guilty.

Brock Lesnar: All of a sudden? She's been getting a little worse, bit by bit, since I retired from UFC.

Even though he had been talking, Brock had already finished one of his two steaks. He was already working on the other.

Paul Heyman: Why do you suppose that is?

Brock looked up at Paul, and simply brushed his fingers across his thumb in the money gesture.

Brock Lesnar: I made a lot of money beatin' up Dana White's golden boys. Only reason I'm not still in the octagon is because of my stomach.

Paul's mind drifted back to several articles he had read back in 2010 about Lesnar's battles with diverticulitis. Lesnar was the toast of the UFC back then, and if it hadn't been for the crippling stomach disease, Brock's unstoppable run might have still gone on much longer than it did.

Paul Heyman: She can't be complaining about your current paychecks, can she?

Brock Lesnar: Oh, she can. I was getting millions for 25 minutes in the octagon. I don't care how much money Wes has got - he ain't going give me more than a million for one match. Not even Orton makes more than a mil at 'Mania.

Paul Heyman: Well, let's hope she's changed her mind. I may not be the biggest Wes Ikeda fan in the world, but he seems sold on you. The fact that you went in and beat their Royal Rumble winner speaks volumes.

Brock Lesnar: I don't know. I guess. I just get the felling she's buttering me up for something. Just a hunch. Maybe she wants a kid. Better not be a kid.

Paul Heyman: Good to know you guys are on such good terms that you're assuming positive intent.

Brock simply shrugged.

Brock Lesnar: As long as it ain't a kid.

Paul Heyman: Hey, are you going to work stiff in there with John? Because if you are, there's some things I think you ought to know about him.

Brock Lesnar: No more than any other guy. I don't have a problem with John, not the first time I've worked with him. Kinda feel bad for him. They always give him the same stupid material to work with.

Paul Heyman: Well, if you want I'll give you the scoop about everything that's been happening with him in the last couple years. When we're done with that, you and I need to have a heart to heart about your future here in the EBWF. I spoke with Joanie on Thursday, and she gave me some info about their plans for you. I've been meaning to talk to you about it for a couple days.

Brock Lesnar: My future, huh? Okay.

Paul Heyman smiled.

Paul Heyman: No worries, my old friend. You're going to like it. You may not think you will when we get started, but you're going to like it a lot.

Heyman patted Lesnar on the back as they stood up. Paul placed their dishes in the sink and the two headed downstairs so that Brock could do his late afternoon workout. The news Paul Heyman would give wouldn't sound like good news, but Paul was confident that Brock Lesnar's presence in the EBWF was going down the right path. A dominant, destructive path, but the right one. And they both stood to make a whole lot of money.