The sound of rain pouring down viciously is echoed throughout the arena and the lights dim and turn a dark shade of purple. The crowd sits silently letting the music drown them out as they're confused and all this is unfamiliar. Suddenly as the bass kicks in a familiar face walks out to the arena, Arno Frye, but he isn't the same. His demeanor is...different and no longer does he acquiesce to the sound of his music, at least not tonight. He walks straight to the ring ignoring the crowd and their negative ovation. Now in the ring he wrestles a microphone out of the inside pocket of his purple leather jacket and gestures for the music to stop. Lastly he positions the microphone in his right hand as if it were a glass of wine. *Clears throat*...suffering my second loss in I-W-T at Uprising something dawned on me! And I gotta thank Louie because without him I wouldn't of realized something I should've known all along*chuckle*. Let's face it people, we all know none of those abominations backstage are worth any of your time--let alone mine and I've got all the time in world! They're broken, stained, unfit for Arno Frye's world. They don't see the beauty in things like I do. They don't embrace life like I do. I can't work with that. Even I can't make greatness out of piles of shit. The crowd begins to chant "O-and-2," at Frye furiously. Frye laughs it off. 2 losses, 5,10,100,500,1000,10000,100000000 it doesn't fucking matter how many times I lose because you can't kill me! My essence is infectious what you see before you is merely a shell containing the enigma--the entity that is Arno Frye! A-- The crowd interrupt the rest of Frye's rant with loud" you're an asshole" chants. The already frustrated Frye decides to let the crowd continue their chant as he exits the ring and grabs a chair from under the ring. Crowd still chanting he sets up the chair in the middle of the ring and sits waiting for the crowd to stop. Are you done yet? The crowd answers back with an even louder " You're a jobber" chants. Frye shrugs his shoulders and gets comfortable on the chair, waiting for them to stop, but growing impatient. After a few more minutes of chanting Frye pops up from his seat and throws a tantrum during which he threw the chair out of the ring. *Fixes hair; Regains composer* I'm not here to talk you assholes anyway. You're all failures like the guys backstage. But I digress... Let me get to the point, the Magnum Opus was never obtainable because...It was already created...me. I AM THE MAGNUM OPUS. I am the greatest creation--god's greatest gift. This probably isn't making sense to you primitive fools so i'll make it very simple: I'm better than all of you, regardless of statistics. I am above win/loss records. I am above championships. Its really hard being a such an enlightened creative genius, I'm alone here and I will not stoop to your level...but I will bring you mine. Not only will I make I-W-T...*deep breath*...perfect, I will enlighten the I-W-T, one creation at a time*hysterical laughter*. Frye remains in the ring and taunts the crowd by blowing them kisses as his music begins to wash out the booing.