'Hey guys. Thanks for meeting me out here. It's been a crazy few weeks, getting back into this wrestling thing. I would have done this in my house, but we're running low on diapers and baby food, so it's gotta be here.'

'No problem, Pic,' the camera man replies. 'Whenever you're ready, we're rolling.'

'Okay, great.' He slides off the car and straightens up, briefly moving his hand to the back of his neck. 'So how do I do this again? Oh, right. Let's talk a little about EEI. Funny isn't it? Beaumont hated us so much, tried to do everything he could to get rid of us, but how long did Mercury last when the last part of EEI left? About a half hour, I think. They needed us, so when Mercury makes its way out of the darkness, they call us right back again.'

'And it's been a blast, let me tell you. It's great running with my buddies again, or at least most of them. But we're working on that. Dirge is more focused then I'd ever seen him. Brimstone... well, we've all got our ghosts. I know he'll be ready for this match. Truly, I feel badly for Scott and Blaise. My guys are out to make a statement, not just wrestle in some tag match.'

The cameraman interrupts. 'But Scott Royal ought to be pretty focused, after losing his wife. Wouldn't you think?'

Picasso waves his hand dismissively. 'Big f****** deal. If I had a dollar for every wrestler who's got a dead wife, my ass would be on a Caribbean island, not a Costco parking lot. This profession breeds pain and loss. Everyone in that ring has been through it, and they deal with it. If Scotty ups his game as a result, he'll still be two or three steps behind the Entropy Crusade.'

'So what's your job exactly, Vincent? Are you their manager or what?'

'I...' Picasso shrugs. 'I don't have a clue, to be honest. I think so. There was some kind of manager's license Beaumont had be apply for. I don't know if I'll be allowed at ringside, or if I'll just be in the locker room watching it on the TV. There seemed to be some concern that I wouldn't behave myself if I was within 20 feet of the ring. Pure overreaction, let me tell you. I've always been an abide-by-the-rules kind of guy. Hey, stop laughing, jackass!'

'Sorry, Pic,' the cameraman responds, chuckling once more before regaining his composure. 'Anything more?'

'Nah,' he says. 'They don't need me to speak for them, that's for certain. I think we're good.'

'So when are you headed back into the ring, man? Any comments on that?'

Picasso pauses, a little caught off-guard. 'Umm. Well, um. I don't know. There are days I think I can do it, and days I'm pretty sure I can't. If I could wrestle at a certain level and not risk killing myself, I'd do it. We'll just have to wait and see on that.'

'Do you miss it, Vincent? Did you go out the way you wanted?'

Picasso pauses for a long moment before speaking. 'Do you really think that I wanted to retire because Harbinger broke my f****** neck? That was the way I wanted to end my career? Hell no. I was the best at what I did, the very best, and then in the span of five seconds, I couldn't move my goddam arms or legs. I don't wish that on my worst enemy. No, I take that back. I do wish that on Herb Ingles. Even if it was just for a minute, I'd love for that bastard to lie in that ring and not be able to move. I'd love for his entire career, his entire life, to flash before his eyes. I want him to consider a future where he's sitting in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Because that was what went through my mind as I was wheeled out of the arena.'

'He got me in a move that was designed to break necks and end careers. He couldn't beat me any other way. I may have been a sadistic bastard, but there are lines in wrestling that you don't cross, and he obliterated them. So to answer your earlier question, I don't know if I'll ever wrestle again. But if I do, it will be for one reason and one reason only. It'd be Old Testament-style retribution.'

His eyes are smoldering, and his arms are shaking from the adrenaline running through him. But he has the sense to look at his watch and see it's 10 minutes to closing. 'Oh crap. Alright, we're done, and I've got to get those diapers. See you guys at the show.'