The scene opens up backstage, Brock stands with his Costa Del Mar’s on, dressed like a lawyer’s son, with the EBWF Breakout championship over his shoulder. It glistens in the camera lights, as if it was freshly polished. He smugly looks around and then to the camera before removing his sunglasses and dangling them from his neck.

Brock Anderson: Oh the changes we’ve seen and made over the past couple weeks… In case you’re all a little delusional and weak-minded, let me catch you up.

He smirks at the camera, looking side to side and then starting back.

Brock Anderson: I came in this company, two.. three months ago? I worked day in, day out… I put myself in a position to be on the card every week to prove to you all at home, to prove to the guys backstage that I’m here on merit, not because of my last name. I fought tooth and nail, I earned my position for this championship and then I won it. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it to prove something. But then you know what happened?

He pauses, letting it sink in.

Brock Anderson: The backhanded compliments and petty chirps still happened. So what did I do? A few weeks ago, the great and beloved Adam Cole made his return and you know what? He got me, he beat me but he said some things that just finally pushed me over the limit. We won’t hash on that right now but it pushed me enough to where I put his face in the mat and I had an epiphany… this title is for ME. Not for any of you at home, not for anyone backstage. My success is for Brock Anderson…. And now the pendulum has shifted.

He adjusts the title strap on his shoulder, getting more intense as he speaks to the viewers.

Brock Anderson: I put Cole in the mat and I choose to do whatever other person here does. I sat and basked and decided to work when I wanted. Not to please you people, not to get out and bust my ass for the sorry cheers or jeering. Except the difference between me doing it and everyone else is because I deserve it. I deserve the time off and the honour of getting to pick and choose because I am the Breakout champion. I have nothing to prove to anyone… I’ve done in my short time here what others WISH they could accomplish in their entire careers. Which brings me to task at hand this week.

He strokes his facial hair, looking off to the distance and the back to the camera.

Brock Anderson: Dick… Holliday. I guess we’re back on our dWo bulls**t again, huh? But this time first round of King of the Ring. Probably another night I’ll have to defend my title AND go toe to toe against someone for that title.

He grins, in reference to the stellar Last Survivor match which saw him last until Roman Reigns eliminated him.

Brock Anderson: I digress; this week we shift the momentum, we keep working it forward and we take on Maxwell’s lackey Richard. Quite frankly… I don’t have a lot to say to you or about this match, Richard. Honestly? I’ve already looked past you and onto next week. What have you done to prove otherwise? Besides make stupid calls to your dad about suing someone or kissing Max’s ass every step of the way? There’s no reason to take you or this match serious because at the end of the night, my music will be playing.. the horseman will exit the ring… the Breakout championship will be raises in my hand and I’ll be on my way to claim King of the Ring.

He puts his sunglasses back on his face, after a smug smirk and exits the screen.