A 2015 McLaren 650s pulls up to the back, shortly followed by 3 black escalades. 15 men get out of the Escalades, all dressed in suits with black shades. One of them opens the door to the McLaren. Dat Kid steps out wearing a grey plaid suit with a purple tie and handkerchief. Kid holds his arms out and two other guards dust off Kid with a feather duster. Kid starts to walk and 10 men follow him, while 5 stand guard. Kid walks past the people backstage and he's about to be approached by one of the members of creative, but one of his guards pulls out a nightstick and club the guy's knees out. Two other guards proceed to stomp on the poor guy while Dat Kid walks without even looking back. Two wrestlers stand in the by the curtains, waiting to go out but Dat Kid just shoves them to the side, passes them, a guard gives Kid hand sanitizer. Kid walks out of the curtains, with his guards close behind, the crowd pops. Kid walks up the stairs, wipes his feet, and walks into the ring. One of Kid's guards hands him a microphone engraved with DK. I am the greatest in ring performer in the history of the IWT and that's not even debatable. Whenever I step in this ring, all eyes are on me and when I'm out of it, they're STILL on me. There is no IWT without Dat Kid, and if you think what you've been watching for the past couple months is IWT then you must be inbreed, because ever since I left this has been nothing, but a bunch of lazy motherfuckers trying to fill the shoes of a man who's feet are just too damn big. Does that mean I'm going to hold this place and bring it to where it once was? They can't even afford to have me in the ring right now. Am I here to help preserve the future of the IWT? IWT doesn't have a future after me. The moment I walk out of the doors permanently is the moment IWT breathes its last breaths. Am I here become a champion? Why would I do that, my name holds more prestige than any championship the IWT has and ever had to offer. People don't come to IWT to be champion anymore, they come here to BE ME! and the sad fact of it all is, there will never be another me. The crowd starts to boo a bit. Oh and don't boo, because you're all the bunch of idiots that pay ME to insult YOU. Think about that for a second, you paid money, that you slaved hours for, to have someone talk to you like garbage. The sad fact is that everyone in this arena is going to tune in next week like the autonomous drones you are and I'm going to berate each and every one of you week after week and you're just gonna keep putting money in my pocket cause that's how worthless your lives are. You could be spending your money on your children, on your health, saving for a better home, but instead you come here to traveling circus of overly oiled up men with the personalities of disgruntled old war veterans. I think tonight, I am going to take my pay check, cash it in, wipe my ass with it, then I'll send it to each and every one of you who came here tonight. Crowd starts getting rowdy but don't worry cause at least you can sell it on ebay and let some other retarded motherfucker pay three times the amount it's worth. The crowd is deafeningly loud. Dat Kid holds out the mic and a guard grabs it. Kid stands in the middle of the ring, you can see the crowd behind him yelling angrily.