Janitor: How much longer are you going to be here?
An older, gray-haired man stops pushing around his trash can upon seeing Mick Overlast alone in the WZCW locker room long after Ascension 46 went off the air. Overlast is sitting in a steel folding chair, wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans and looking down at the floor. He doesn't respond to the janitor's question.
Janitor: Hello? How long are you going to be here?
Overlast: I don't know. Go away.
Janitor: Look, I got a wife and kids to go home to and I don't want to be here all night because you're sitting here feeling sorry
Overlast: I told you to get the hell out of here!
Janitor: You got a few minutes, kid. If you're not out of here by then, you're sleeping on that same floor you're staring at.
The janitor wheels the trash can down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Overlast with his thoughts again.
Overlast: First, it was Runn Reynolds Runn at the Lottery. Then, it was Runn in a singles match. Lastly, it was Triple X earlier tonight. What the hell has been going on?
He put his hands behind his head, his fingers intertwining to hold his head down. He then lifts his head up to look into the ceiling lights and starts to laugh.
Overlast: I mean, is this it? Is this MY destiny? Any shot I had at appearing on Kingdom Come is extinct after tonight. Hammond's gone, and I lost a shot at a singles title. Now I've been relegated to facing a bad comedian in Ace Stevens. If I keep losing at this rate, I'll be no better than one of his terrible punchlines. And then I'll be on a level with the Kings of Hate, and then...
Overlast pauses to gather his thoughts. He takes a deep breath.
Overlast: Wait, what am I talking about? I'm miles above the Kings of Hate. Hell, I don't have the pressure of having anything to lose in this match with Stevens. That should make me more dangerous, right? But what if I lose...
Overlast shakes his head, seemingly losing his mind as he sits alone.
Overlast: Something isn't right. This the guy who loses match after match is not me. I am not myself. I am not Mick Overlast, the guy who put himself into this situation. I'm worlds better than this. But something needs to change. Problem is, I don't know how
The lights go off on Overlast mid-sentence. He stands up and looks around in the darkness, no light anywhere in sight.
Overlast: Son of a bitch...
