The scene cuts to ringside, where the a confused crowd chatter at random. In the center of the ring stands the One Man Revolution, no entrance, no music, no fanfare. Wearing black pants and a black zipped up hoodie, he is almost entirely motionless, with only his hands wringing around a microphone, only shifting his body weight once he realizes the camera has turned toward him. He waits for the crowd to quiet down, finally raising the mic to his face once they lock in attentively. 

Bobby Minio: I guess it goes without saying that… Lution was a bit of a disappointment for me.

Bobby Minio: When I first took my swing at Harvey, I came out with maybe my best performance in an OCW ring ever. That to me, it felt bigger than my wins over Sean, over Tobin, over Nati, Bones, even over Paul. It felt like I was finally within reach here.

He reaches his free hand up in the air, over his head.

Bobby Minio: I was finally ready to reach up, not with an open hand ready to snatch up some ring of questionable alloy but reach up with a can of krylon to throw my name up over the OCW logo once and for all.

His hand drops lazily at his side.

Bobby Minio: and I blew it. Before getting one last chance which I promptly wasted. It was all just a waste. H2O had my number, counters for my counters, better timing, ring awareness, he just… he outclassed me across the board, and that’s ME saying that.

Minio lets the statement rest on the air for a few seconds before he begins walking around the ring, taking a moment to stare at every turnbuckle.

Bobby Minio: I came into this company, just under five years ago, and I came in beat up. I spent years wrestling all over the world, all kinds of venues and I brought that milage here to the big league. I spent so much of my time here behind a step, clawing at every single win, nothing came easy, and every win I scraped and clawed for, it meant something. Hell, there were times when my enemies couldn’t help but root for me, and… I’ve had plenty of enemies here, including you all out in the crowd so, that’s significant.

Bobby Minio: Putting that all into context, you know, there always comes a time where you have to sit down and take inventory of your work, your time somewhere, and what that means going forward. I’ve spent this last week doing just that and… being totally honest with you all, I came to a big conclusion. One I didn’t expect that day when I was counting down the hours until I was able to walk into Wrestlelution with that title around my waist, legitimate or not…

Bobby Minio: Before making it official, I’ll answer the quick questions.

Minio stops, facing the hard camera as he raises his hand and begins counting down on his fingers from the pinky with each question.

Bobby Minio: Was it worth? Hell yes. Every single second of my time here.

Bobby Minio: Why now? Because I looked deep within myself and I knew what I wanted to do… what I had to do, and now I do just that.

Bobby Minio: What now? God only knows, but you all know me… I’ll land on my feet somehow. Even if I huck myself over the top rope and land on my skull, I’ll land on my feet eventually.

His hand sits, pointed up in the finger pistol sign of C4. He locks his eyes on the figurative pistol, pausing for a moment before flashing a small but warm smile at the camera.

Bobby Minio: Thank you all, every single one of you. Thank you Luke. Thank you Muge. Thank you Paul. F**k you Matsuda. Thank you Jaysin… and thank you Harvey.

He steps back, stopping just over the center axis of the ring. He cocks his head to the side, taking in the crowd once more before filling his lungs with a deep breath. Finally he kneels down, gently laying the microphone down in the center of the ring.

There is a heavy weight on his shoulders as he stands back up, forcing distance between his hands, and his mouth, and that microphone. He faces the crowd again, giving them a slight nod as he turns, quickly moving towards the ropes to exit the ring.

The crowd begins to chant “THANK YOU BOB-BY!” mixed in with a few less complimentary remixes of that same chant and cadence. He moves up the ramp, giving them an acknowledging wave over his shoulder as he leaves to silence from the PA that would otherwise be playing his music.

He reaches the top of the ramp and turns on his heels, offering a final wave to the crowd with a soft, gracious look on his face.

Then his expression changes. His brow drops, his mouth shifts and his hand plunges into his pocket, producing another microphone.

Bobby Minio: Thank you... for selling for me... you goddamned MARKS!

The crowd is completely taken aback by this.

Bobby Minio: Ohhh, ‘I’m out here to retire my wrestling career because I lost a couple of matches in a row…’ like I give a crap! You think that would be the last of me? Bobby Minio? You all have NOT been paying attention all of these years!

Bobby Minio: You better do me like Ray Jackson in the Kumite if you think you’re sending me to the sidelines of a ring! I don’t stop in here until I’m on the marquee, I’m on the posters, and I’m on the top of every single card. So you all better strap the hell in, because we’ve got a lot of road to cover.

Minio reaches his hands out in front of him, miming that the microphone is a steering wheel before he pretends to let it slip, dropping it to the ground as he shouts out “MIC DROP!” before turning towards the entrance again.

The is still stunned, a mixture of boos and cheers ringing out with no consensus in sight. He walks out with a big grin stretched across his face before he swings around again to face the crowd and the cameras, another microphone in his hand.

Bobby Minio: SIKEEEE I LIED! I’M NOT DONE YET, I’M NOT NEVER DONE! 

Bobby Minio: Every single building I step in, I keep it ten toes on the floor! Every time I step into the ring, I put hoofs on roofs like a friggin reindeer!

Bobby Minio: You really think Good ol’ Harv has my number? Read a blog you goddamned goofs, I can just change the number! Hell, I’ll hide the number! Whatever it takes, I’ll work on it, I’ll get it done, and I’LL TAKE OVER. Now, I know you all got better things to do… so…

He stretches his hand out, dropping the mic one final time, turning back and marching his way towards the curtain.

Before spinning again, this time raising his arm up over head, bringing it down across his chest in an exaggerated guitar strumming motion as he unzips his hoodie, revealing a number of microphones strapped to his chest.

Bobby Minio: You really thought I was done?! Where the hell do you all get off? I’ve got a whole damn bandolier here! I’m in it for the long haul, and ya’ll better get comfortable, because I plan on taking a deep dive into my favorite subject… ME.

Minio throws the microphone over his shoulder, producing another microphone from the collection on his chest.

Bobby Minio: I’m unstoppable. I’ll be sitting in the front row at Sensation’s funeral, unloading a promo on current champion and former cutter Kassidy Hayes, for not giving the boss man the gift of eternal life! Goddamn Hayes you are SO SELFISH!

Bobby Minio: I’ll be there at the TMZ offices when Dupree finally corrects the record on his preferred pronouns, putting that craziness into context and prospective for the lil BOYS and GIRLS at home who can’t make heads or tails of it! 

Bobby Minio: I’ll be there at the courthouse in grand ol’ Lon-don, as the magristrate or whatever nonsense they call them over there, sentences Pugh to ten years in the dungeon for cracking a crude joke about some slag’s ‘fanny!’ letting the world know that he absolutely, one hundred percent DESERVES IT.

Bobby Minio: I’ll be ther-

The microphone cuts off, but Minio continues ranting into it, drowned out by the chorus of boos from the fans passionate enough to respond to Minio, while other fans attempt to beat the traffic, standing in line to exit the arena. The Riot Logo appears on the screen over the wide shot of Minio shouting and people leaving, before fading to black.