The scene opens late at night at one of the many parks in Paris. The camera goes around showing the well kept lawns and greenery. Sitting on a park bench is Lisil Jackson dressed in a pair of jeans a white tanktop, a Hawaiian shirt, and his fedora. He appears to be deep in thought... Almost like he's not himself.
"Dis.... Dis has got ta stop...."
Lisil Jackson mumbles shaking his head disgusted.
"What happend at Victory... I don't blame Dee Truth fo what dey did... I blame maself fo not seein it comin! Dee funny ting is I'm not even upset dat dey tried ta hospitalize me... I'm upset dat dey robbed me o' what woulda been dee biggest win o' me career!"
Jackson says sighing to himself.
"Ya know Brudda Judas I hope ya be happy mon... I really do..."
The Jamaican says as he looks at the camera and slides off his fedora revealing the stitches in his head that he received thanks to the chair shot he received.
"Ya see I coulda went back ta Wrestleshow and returned dee fava... But dee way I look at it... I'll be seein ya at Provin Grounds anyway ya bumbaclot! And don't worry mon... Dee spirits will follow me to our destination!"
The Voodoo Practitioner cracks a sinister smile before he continues talking.
"Now movin on ta dee current task at hand... Ron Hall.... Dee Southern Rebel.... UTA Hall O' Fama, and a big name in dee company!"
Jackson ponders to himself for a few seconds scratching his chin.
"Ya know Ron I respect ya... And I can't question ya talents mon... I mean ya beat a hungry young mon in Yeshua Pandemonium just dis past Victory! But ya know mon dee difference tween is us dat I am mo prepared den him."
The Jamaican Inspiration says as his expression slowly turns serious.
"Ya see brudda I still be seekin dat key win! I went out dere against Eric Dane and dat dumb mudda couldn't beat Lisil Jackson cleanly! Den I face Stephen Greer and ova and ova I dodged dat lariat o' his only fo dee match ta get flushed down dee toilet tanks ta dee Truth!"
Lisil cracks his knuckles clearly frustrated.
"Ya see Ron I can pick maself up and push on. Dis match brudda I need dat win. I need dat establishment! I need ta get dat victory unda me belt! Dee people o' Jamaica need dat reassurance dat I can bring dee glory back ta dee islands!"
Jackson says nodding his head.
"Lemme tell ya somethin Ron... Greer couldn't hit me wit dat lariat... Good luck landin dat kick mon! I be watchin fo it!"
The Jamaican Ninja Warrior slides his hat back on.
"I believe in ma bilities... I shown I can stand toe ta toe gainst dee elite o' dee UTA! I trained and fought too hard ta fail now!"
The Jamaican shakes his head sighing.
"Ya know Ron I seen dee quote dat ya wanted ya show me... I can't help but find it ratha ironic..."
Jackson clears his throat laughing
"I hear dem... I hear dee names dey wanna call me... Lysol, Lisinopril, Listerine.... Or ya know everone's personal favorite bein Black Guy Jackson... I hear all dis but ya know what? I still go out dere and bring dee fury o' dee storm!"
Jackson looks directly into the camera.
"A witty sayin proves nothin? Brudda... Words prove nothin... What I do in dat ring is what mattas! And what I do out dere are what people talk bout in dee end!"
Jackson looks focused nodding his head.
"Let's make dis a spirited bout Ron... I look forward ta facin ya wisdom...Dis shall be a great display in dee arts o' combat!"
The Jamaican says as he bows his head back down in deep thought. The scene fades to black... Not even his trademark saying is muttered...
"Spirits... I need ya protection now mo den eva.... Keep HIM away from me..."