The EBWF cameras panned around the backstage area, where roadies and crew members worked at full speed for the fans in attendance and millions watching from home, rushing from left to right, carrying crates full of props from the shows and whatnot. Ryan Reeves stood out from the rest of the EBWF crew, not only because he wasn't wearing a t-shirt with the EBWF logo, but because he was twice their size and quite taller than all of them. The big guy clutched his abdominal area as he looked around.

Ryback: Damn. Where's catering?

He looked around, tried asking for directions but everyone seemed really focused on working on Warfare. Clad in his airbrushed singled with a huge R on the front he folded his arms and smirked.

Ryback: Who needs to have some stupid match anyway? I'll drive to Hooters, get myself some wings and who knows? I'd even take some thighs and breasts home with me! HA! HA! HA!

However, the truth was that Ryback was getting paid per night of work, and it had been a pretty long while since he last worked. Remembering how empty his pocket was erased the smirk off his face... He walked onto a locker room driven by his nosetrills... They had caught the scent of something that would end this hunger. Ryback frowned as he stumbled upon a bowl of guacamole and a couple of sliced pickles.

Ryback: Ughh... Looks like some crap CM Punk or that Goat faced kid would eat. How come there's no beef around! Dammit!

Ryback grabbed a hold of the bowl and began mercilessly chowing on it, gulping it down and the pickles... Greens were better than nothing after all... Midway through the bowl, a voice cut him off.

???: No! No! No! No! Vat in the Vorld you think you're doing?

Ryback put the bowl down and looked at the guy, dressed in crisp colors.

Ryback: Who the hell are you, squirt?

Ryback wiped the guacamole off his lips for the strangers disdain. Ryback looked down at whoever interrupted the crappy meal he was having... He was dressed in a light blue silk shirt and tight leather pants, his hair was platinum blonde, combed in a pretty exotic way.

???: My name iz Claude Ilza Immelman and I vas hired to vork vith zee make up for voyz and girls around here! I vas getting ready to give Monsieur Tyler Breeze a facial but you've ruined it! You ate it! Now he probably von't go out for his match against Ryback, whoever that is...

Ryback: HA! HA! HA! What a happy coincidence, that Febreeze guy is who I'm facing tonight! Anyway, who puts on foot on their face? Come on!

Claude: Actually, vegetal facialz are great to keep zee skin texture good... allez très bien!

Ryback: I don't speak french, but whatever. Vegetal facials are even better when you're hungry! Now I'll need a tootpick to clean my teeth and who better than that tanned, skinny ass Tyler Breeze? I'm pretty sure he'd do the job just nicely...

Claude: Oh I hope he teaches you zome manners!

Ryback: Manners? HA! HA! HA! I'm not the one playing with food here, you fruitcake! In fact... I wouldn't even call that food... Say, you don't have any recipes for any meat or protein based... Uh... Whatever it is that I ate?

Claude: Facials. And no! The thought of zlathering zee meat all over someone's face is repulsive!

Ryback: If you're going to get your face full of something it better be tasty! But hey! You know something? I'm happy now! My stomach was grumbling but your guacamole and pickles really helped... Now I will go out, and I will use that pipsqueak Breeze kid as my toothpick! Then, after I get paid I can go have some real food! You could consider Febreeze the Entree for tonight's menu.

Claude: Entree? Are zou going to eat him?

Ryback: I ate a barbie doll once and spat golden hairs for two hours, no way I'm making that mistake again! It is a geometric shape of speech!

Claude: Zou mean a figure of speech?

Ryback: Chillax Einstein, you know what I meant... I meant that he's not really food, but he RESEMBLES entrees in that he's cheap, he's small, he has very few protein and calories, he's to be eaten quickly as a way to make time before the main dish is on the table! That's exactly what's going to happen tonight... I'll have some Febreeze as an appetizer and then go pillage some buffet. FEED. ME. MORE. FEED. ME. MORE. FEED. ME. MORE.

Ryback looked straight into the camera.

Ryback: Hey Ikeda... Where's Catering! And I don't mean that vegan bullshit food your posterboys eat, nor those fruity pebbles John Cena announces! After I kick Tyler Breeze's skinny ass you and I are going to sit down and talk business... We're going to talk about catering!

Ryback laughed off as he walked away from the scene.

Claude: Preposterous!

The big guy had to return and look down at Claude.

Ryback: Thank God I don't like french food... Smelly and bite sized. HA! HA! HA!

Ryback patted Claude in the back, probably too strong as his once perfect hair got completely messed up. Claude murmured stuff behind his teeth as the scene faded to black.