Static. A handheld camera flicks on in a dimly lit warehouse ring, the ropes swaying gently. EDjr sits on the middle rope, his father’s robe draped over his shoulders, hair wet, taped fists resting on his knees. The glow of the UTA 25th Anniversary logo flickers on a screen behind him.

EDjr: Chris Ross.

He breathes, steady, eyes locked on the lens.

EDjr: You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You were the final UTA Legacy Champion before the DEFIANCE merger blew everything to hell. You were on the run of a lifetime, you were the last to hold that gold before it all fell apart.

He nods, acknowledging it, letting the weight settle.

EDjr: Then you went out there… and made sure everyone remembered your name, even if they wouldn’t say it in public to save their lives.

His lips twitch into the faintest of smirks, but it fades as his eyes harden.

EDjr: They blackballed you from the business because you couldn’t stop yourself, Ross. Because you didn’t just beat people, you hurt them. You ended careers, spilled blood on floors that will never come clean, and you did it with a smile on your face.

He shakes his head slowly.

EDjr: And now you’re back. Right here, doing your level best to take away my moment, trying to make it yours.

He leans forward, dropping off the rope, stepping into the camera’s personal space, letting the sequined star-patterned robe fall from his shoulders, revealing sweat-darkened tape on his fists.

EDjr: You think jumping me made you a big deal again, Ross? Think putting me on a stretcher made you some kind of a legend?

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

EDjr: Nah, my dude. It just reminded everyone of who you really are: a monster with nothing left to lose.

Beat.

EDjr: And that’s the part you should remember, Ross.

He points to the mat beneath him.

EDjr: Because on the 25th Anniversary Show, you’re not stepping into the ring with some youngboy you can walk over. You’re stepping into the ring with a goddamned pedigreed Dane. And I don’t care how many people you’ve hurt, how many you’ve made bleed, or how many you’ve left in a hospital bed.

His jaw tightens, eyes burning.

EDjr: I’m still walking down that ramp, looking you dead in your eyes, and I’m gonna fight you, Chris. I’m gonna fight you like it’s the last thing I ever do.

He steps even closer, face nearly filling the frame.

EDjr: You want to beat me in front of the world? You better pack a lunch, Ross, because I’m coming for mine. And when I’m done, you’re going to remember that this ring doesn’t belong to you and it never did. And now…?

He leans into the camera, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

EDjr: It belongs to me now.

Smirk. Middle finger. He is his father’s son, after all.

EDjr: You wanted the world to remember, right? Well I want you to remember this one, simple fact: You started this, Chris.

Beat. His voice drops to a cold whisper.

EDjr: Let’s see if you survive it.

Junior shoves the camera away, sending the feed into a hard black cut.