The visage we're greeted with is one we haven't seen in some time. Most of you probably don't remember him. Don't worry; he's kind enough to introduce himself.

(Reporterman) 'Hello. My name is Irving Reporterman. I was hired from May of 2000 through September of 2001 by David Beaumont to keep tabs on Ignacio Seijas. Over that period I discovered much about his formative years in Mexico, how he came to wrestle in America, and how it was that he seemed nigh invulnerable.'

Irving passes his lips over one another, then slides his tongue between. His eyes dart between the camera and something just beyond it.

(Reporterman) 'On Thursday, I was contacted again by Mr. Beaumont. He informed me that Hollow... Ignacio... had not scheduled time for a promo crew. He also had failed to promo for Resurrection, and had been sporadic at best before that. Given what happened at Resurrection, he thought it best that Ignacio spoke. He's here with me today.'

Pan out and to the right. Ignacio is sitting about seven feet away, directly in front of Irving. There is no other furniture visible. Ignacio's head is leaning into the fingertips of his right hand, which in turn is leaning into the armrest of his chair.

(Reporterman) 'Let's start with Resurrection. What are your thoughts on what happened.'

Thin lips loosen from a tight pursing.

'I have no thoughts. She refuses to speak to me.'

(Reporterman) 'Sickness?'

Ignacio nods.

(Reporterman) 'Is she well?'

Ignacio's left hand balls. His jaw tightens.

(Reporterman) 'She wasn't checked into a hospital to our knowledge. How extensive was the-'

'SHE'S A WOMAN FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! A tiny, beautiful woman! She was never supposed to be hurt! I was supposed to stop... to stop that animal Keith Summers from hurting her. And I failed. But it is not my fault. No.'

Ignacio takes in a shuddering breath, and he inhales some mucous back into the depths of his nasal cavity.

'Herb. Always Herb. Making sure he takes from me because he felt I slighted him. I gave him something to focus on, I gave him competition in our training, and in return he let himself become an embarrassment. Then he tricked me into losing my mask. Then he struck me when I was at my weakest to take away my livelihood. And now... how he stood in the way of Sickness finding safety. The match was over, her obligation was fulfilled. She had no reason to stay there and let herself be savaged. And he... he took that safety away from her. He as much as swung those chairs himself. He took my pride, took my name, and he took the one thing I had left to comfort me. Damn him. Damn him to hell.'

Ignacio lifts his left hand, shielding his closed eyes to the camera.

(Reporterman) 'But didn't Sickness bring it on herself? All the manipulation, all the plotting, all the mind games? One might even say she wanted-'

The giant half rises from his seat, left hand pointed firmly at Irving. His now bloodshot eyes are open wide.

'How DARE you accuse her of wanting that! Anything she deserved was meted out during the match, just as was meted out to Beaumont. That assault after the match was the act of a base coward; but then, I have come to expect that from Keith. You, sir, have no right to stand in judgment of her. Judge me, yes, but do not seek to assess the value of her soul without giving her a hearing. The inherent goodness within the Goddess overcomes all her supposed transgressions.'

He sits back down. The left hand grips the armrest firmly.

(Reporterman) 'It seems that she has judged you by her refusal to speak to you.'

'I failed. She has every right to be upset. At the moment I kicked her in the face, I lost my rights to her. My only prayer is that she somehow forgives me.'

Irving sighs openly and shakes his head.

'You have to be one of the most openly antagonistic 'reporters' I have ever seen, Mr. Reporterman.'

(Reporterman) 'Screw the name, Ignacio. I'm a private investigator first and a journalist second. It's Beaumont that keeps having me do stuff like this. Frankly, I'd rather have nothing to do with you ever again. You're depressing. You make me have doubts in the basic principles of humanity. I think you should do yourself and the world a favor and get out of this business now.'

'But I cannot do that. Fighting is all I have left.'

Another sigh from Irving. Grudgingly, he proceeds with the intended line of questioning.

(Reporterman) 'Glamour. You have a match with him this week. Thoughts?'

Ignacio just stares blankly at him.

(Reporterman) 'What.'

'I never realized just how much you hate me. That does explain quite a bit.'

(Reporterman) 'Answer the question.'

'Johnny Glamour is not my concern right now. In the confines of the match, I will do my best to harm him before he harms me. Outside that, I have no emotional attachment or concern for what goes on.'

(Reporterman) 'So basically, you'd rather mope over Sickness.'

'I mourn her suffering.'

Irving's face squeezes together.

(Reporterman) 'Ugh. Just when I thought maybe you'd be free of her.'

'She gave me hope. She freed me from my own demons. I have no freedom outside of Sickness. If you knew me as well as you claim to, you would know that much.'

(Reporterman) 'No, Ignacio, it's because I know you that I wish you'd be rid of her. You've set yourself up as a patsy time and again, and you treat the rest of the world like crap in the process. You could be something if you actually stopped trying to please somebody all the time.'

No response.

(Reporterman) 'Well, I guess we covered everything. Thanks for coming.'

'You do not mean that.'

(Reporterman) 'You're right, I wish you had stayed at home. Now, interview over.'

Cut to black.