The scene opened in the dWo's locker room. Maxwell Jacob Friedman was pacing back and forth in front of Powerhouse Hobbs, Bully Ray and Richard Holliday, who were lined up against the wall. He turned his attention to the latter two men.

MJF: What the hell happened last week? We had two matches and you lost BOTH of them?! Richard, Matt Riddle is usually so high, he doesn't know which state he's in, and yet he still managed to beat you? He didn't even have Miz or Cole to back him up.

Holliday: And I didn't have you to ba-

MJF slapped Holliday's face hard.

MJF: Do not blame me for your inadequacies, Richard. Some of us are in demand over in Tinseltown and can't attend every show. When I'm not here, I expect you to get the job done. We have history, I know what you can do, and it's a hell of a lot better than what you did out there. Besides, I didn't think I'd need to be here after investing my own money in what Eric convinced me was a smart move, despite sickening me to my very core.

He turned to Bully Ray.

MJF: I've spent the past year saying you were a washed-up dinosaur, Pops, and you aren't making a very convincing argument otherwise. You think this is funny? Give me one good reason not to slap that smirk right off your face.

Bully Ray suddenly looked serious, and leaned forward, pointing to his cheek.

Bully Ray: Go on then, tough guy. I'll give you one free shot; you better make it count.

MJF raised his open hand, before taking a step back and clenching it into a fist in frustration. He turned his attention to Powerhouse Hobbs.

MJF: Go out there and get the job done. I want you to beat Brock as hard as his drunken daddy probably used to...do not disappoint me.

Hobbs smirked and left the room as the scene faded.