No Cap: Blood don't lie.

By: Eric Dane Jr.
Date: August 3, 2025
Event: The Great Southern Trendkill Tour
Location: Local Medical Facility


The scene opens in a sterile hospital room. Eric Dane Jr. sits on the edge of a medical bed, his torso wrapped in fresh bandages, a butterfly bandage across his forehead where the worst of the bleeding occurred. His usually pristine appearance is gone - replaced by the hollow-eyed look of a man who's been through hell. His hands shake slightly as he stares at the floor.

A UTA camera crew has been granted brief access. Eric looks up slowly, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Eric Dane Jr.: You want to know how I feel?

He lets out a bitter laugh that turns into a wince of pain.

Look at me. Really look. This isn't the kid who walked into UTA talking about making people forget my father ever existed. That kid? He's dead, no cap. Chris Ross straight up murdered him with his bare hands, and something else crawled out of that blood-soaked ring.

He touches the bandage on his forehead gingerly.

They're telling me I have a concussion. Bruised ribs. Possible internal bleeding. The doctors want to keep me overnight for observation. You know what I told them?

His voice grows stronger, more intense.

I told them to check on my father first. Because while I was out there getting my ass kicked, that psychopath put the Only Star in a hospital bed. My dad... my dad who came out there hurt, bleeding, trying to help me. And Ross laid him out like he was nothing.

Eric's fists clench, his knuckles white.

You think this is over? You think because some referee counted to ten that Chris Ross and I are done?

He stands up slowly, wincing but determined.

Ross wanted to make a statement tonight. He wanted to show UTA what happens when you overlook Chris Ross. Well, congratulations, Chris. Message received. You're a dangerous, unhinged sociopath who doesn't belong in a wrestling ring - you belong in a padded cell.

But here's what you didn't count on, you absolute psycho. You didn't break me. You bloodied me. You battered me. You put me through literal hell. But when push came to shove, when you had that screwdriver inches from my face...

His voice drops to a deadly whisper.

I didn't blink.

Eric moves closer to the camera, his eyes burning with intensity.

I've spent my whole life living in someone else's shadow. The great Eric Dane's kid. The legacy who couldn't cut it. The second-generation star who talked a big game but couldn't back it up.

Tonight, I backed it up. Tonight, I went to war with the most dangerous man in UTA and I survived. More than survived - I took him to hell with me. And honestly? It hits different when you realize what you're actually made of.

He pauses, collecting himself.

Chris Ross thinks he taught me a lesson tonight. He's right. He did. He taught me that I'm way tougher than I ever imagined. He taught me that when everything is stripped away - the legacy, the expectations, the bright lights and big entrances - what's left is what really matters.

What's left is heart. What's left is the refusal to quit. What's left is Dane blood running through these veins.

Eric's voice grows more emotional.

My father built a legacy in this business. The Only Star earned that nickname through blood, sweat, and tears. Tonight, Chris Ross tried to end that legacy. He tried to put both Danes in the hospital.

He shakes his head slowly.

But legacies aren't built in one night, and they sure as hell aren't destroyed by one psychopath with a screwdriver and a grudge. That's just not how this works, bro.

Eric looks directly into the camera.

Chris, I know you're watching this. I know you're probably in your own hospital room, getting that knee looked at. The knee I absolutely destroyed. The knee that gave out when you needed it most.

This isn't over between us. Not even close. You wanted to drag me into the darkness? Congratulations. You succeeded. But now that I've been there, now that I've seen what I'm capable of when pushed to the absolute limit...

His voice becomes ice cold.

I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.

Eric moves back to the bed, sitting down heavily.

The doctors say I need rest. They say I need time to heal. Maybe they're right. Maybe I do need time to process what happened tonight. But while I'm resting, while I'm healing, I want everyone in UTA to remember one thing:

I didn't tap out. I didn't submit. I didn't give up.

And when I come back - and I will come back - I'm not coming back as Eric Dane's son. I'm coming back as the man who survived Chris Ross. The man who looked the devil in the eye and spat blood in his face.

He looks up one final time, his expression resolute.

Ross wanted to forge me in fire? Fine. Mission accomplished. But he might not like what emerges from the flames.

The legacy continues. And it's just getting started.

Eric lies back on the bed, closing his eyes as the camera fades to black.

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