Intro (Move your mouse to reveal the content) Intro (open) Intro (close) Based God Darth: This is The New Generation's locker room and I'm about to interview The Artist on the crushing defeat. The door opens as The Artist walks-out wearing a suit and sunglasses. Based God Darth: Artist, can I ta- Artist: Please, I'm not a character from a 13 year olds little comic book, call me Michael. Based God Darth: Michael? Michael: Yes, do I need to repeat myself? My name is Michael, and The Artist was the worst piece of trash a mind could conjure. It doesn't matter how you put. Call me Roadster, Roadie, The Artist...I'm not a man to hold characters as a roadblock in my career. I don't care anymore because I'm set out for one thing and that's to redeem my failures and The New Generation was PHASE 1....this...this is PHASE 2. Based God Darth: What does changing your name have to do with giving yourself motivation. *Michael looks at Darth with with a dead expression before he continues.* Michael: You're no good. Michael walks towards the entrance area as a new theme hits and the camera switches to a view on the curtain as they wait for Michael to walk out. Promo (Move your mouse to reveal the content) Promo (open) Promo (close) The lights flicker Red and Black as Michael walks out to a pop. As he approaches mid ramp he looks side to side before looking straight up, for a while it look as if Michael is thinking before he shakes his head from side to side as he continues to walk down the ramp. As he hops up into the apron, he looks down as he beats his fist next to his thigh. He sprouts out and screams "The New Generation!" as pyro blasts off in the ring while he has his hands in the air. Michael: Like I was saying backstage, The Artist, like every superstar, is a tool bag. When a tool bag doesn't contain tools any longer...you don't need a tool bag. Earlier tonight, my opponents weren't in my way nor was Anonymous...the only thing in MY way was MYSELF. I did what I suggested to those two, and that was rethink my career, and I did that and I've walked out of my psych-over as a new man....not as the new and improved Artist, Roadie or Roadster...as Michael. I'm not the bisexual who urges grown men and women to come to his house and play with him, I'm not a country singer who has nothing better to do then call out B.Dazzle. I'm not a sleazy freak who runs around with a big black dude and some stripper he found in Mexico. Who I am is left for YOU to discover. Michael roams the ring as if he is looking for something. He watches his feet before he looks up with a glare, Michael: I did what I was told to do and that was to give it my all, but it didn't prove any fucking thing. When I step into this ring I do try my best yet The Artist's best is the worst in the spectators eyes, and The Artist may be a lost piece of trash in a dark pit of crap, but Michael on the other hand is a newly refreshed man....that won't take less than great for an answer. My New Generation and I will continue our raid....our STORM will rage whether it be Michael, Christian, Anonymous or...The Big Guy. We are acid to skin here in the IWT, we won't just claw our way up, but end everything below. In with the new and out with the old...In with Michael and out with The Artist. Michael waits for a moment before he continues. Michael: Rise Up. End All. The crowd pops as he throws the microphone down and leaves with his music blaring. OOC: I'm not changing gimmicks.