The scene opens inside a fancy Italian pizzeria. Shipman can be seen eating what looks like a local style of pizza with a glass of red wine. He is dressed in his normal street clothes with a leather jacket. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail. He has a little smirk as he looks towards the camera. In a Hannibal Lecter-esque movement he raises his glass of wine and toasts it towards the camera before taking a sip. He gingerly sets the glass down as the camera zooms in close.
Shipman: Another week, another European city. Now granted I was a little upset that I was left off the card for Athens, and the fact they didn’t even give me a moment on the show will not faze me. I did indeed enjoy myself by visiting all the wonderful gentleman establishments. Granted none were as good as Arcana in Souda Bay, but you can’t win them all. Unlike this week though, I do plan on winning them all as I get a chance to go into Climax Control and show the SCW exactly how I roll when I go into a hardcore match against the Mental Rapist Sean Jackson. I don’t think anybody has any idea what they are in store for come Climax Control but I am more than eager to show them. Sure I could go on and on about what I have done in my past but than I would sound like a broken record from my matches against Raab. No, this week I will go the other way and predict the future and especially the future of The Mental Rapist.
Shipman finishes his pizza and sips back the rest of his wine.
Shipman: Rapist, that is such an ugly word. When I hear rapist what I think about is just some dirty hobo grabbing some pretty young girl and proceeding to take away her innocence. But enough about my Saturday nights. Call yourself what you will Sean, because your moniker does not faze me. Because really do you know what rape is? It’s only a cuddle with a struggle. Nothing more, so if you want to cuddle with my mentality go for it, but I warn you, I will not be the bitch. You will see stuff if you go through my mind that would make even the hardest of men tremble. There is a little saying that in everybody lays a dark spot, where the bad things are, where they fight with each other. Well I have found my dark spot, and I unleashed those bad things, and at Climax Control we will see who rapes who.
Shipman calls for his bill as his experience in Europe has taught him it can take forever for you to get your bill.
Shipman: So Sean, I hear you are pissed and that I should be wary of you when you are pissed. Well, let me explain to you how wary I am. Who do you think asked for this match? Who do you think asked for hardcore? Ever since I came to SCW, I seem to have become the joke of the week for numerous weeks running. So me in all my splendor got an idea. Call it foolish but I figured I will call out the angriest dog on the block, and invite him to my backyard. Sure the upper echelon was a little hesitant to book this match and claim that it is for what you will do to me, but in reality it is because they have seen what I have done, what I am capable of, and they don’t want to lose a star talent to a possible career ending injury. I’ve done battle with the worst, gone to war with the best. I’ve got the scars to back up everything I spiel, and Sean, you will soon realize why I am the Original Psycho. Not a psycho, not an American Psycho, British Psycho, none of that crap, I am the original and at Climax Control live from Milan, Italy, there will be no Milan Miracle, it will be a Milan Massacre.
Shipman laughs with his trademark sadistic tone as he calls for his check again.
Shipman: Stupid guinea asses. They think they are so clever, making you wait an unreasonable amount of time for your bill in hopes you will order more stuff. And don’t bother tipping them; they already factor that into the bill as a type of tax. Annoying bastards.
The waiter finally brings Shipman the bill and walks away a little disgruntled. Shipman looks at it and leaves a couple bills and coins on the table and walks away. The camera follows from the side.
Shipman: Now as I said before Sean, I am not going to tell you what I have done in the past, especially with screwdrivers and mason jars, but if you go on Efukt you will see my videos. No, this time I will tell you what I am going to do to you and or your corpse depending how long you can last in that ring with me. See it will start with a slow beat down with some chairs, to numb your body. Than I will use some kendo sticks to make your flesh sting, and bring feeling back to your anatomy. While you are in a corner wincing in pain trying to get back into the fight, I will be on the floor, setting up tables. One flaming, another wrapped in barbed wire and flaming, a third covered in thumbtacks and flaming, and finally one covered in light tubes. Once I toss your body through each of those, I will look under that ring and pull out a bag, and inside it will be a syringe. Whether or not I fill it with AIDS infected blood again is not for sure, you just better hope you are lucky when I take it and stick it through the inside of your cheek, squirting the contents out for all to see. Than if you are lucky, I will have had enough fun torturing you until my House of Pain lowers from the ceiling and we end up scrapping in SCW’s most violent, bloodiest, barbaric, sickening, match ever inside of that barbed wire hell. A hell I willingly call home while others call it the career killer. If you make it out of our hardcore match unscathed or even unchanged, you better buy a lottery ticket because you will be the luckiest piece of trash alive. If you thought you had wars before, if you are having so much trouble with Gabriel, well Sean, this is merely just the beginning of your end because at Climax Control, I am going to be the only one walking away and I will be the only one with my hand raised. I will see you Sunday.
Shipman walks away from the camera as the scene fades to black.
