You can hear the soft thud of footsteps as the scene fades in from pure black. You are on what appears to be a plane. The place is almost packed to the brim, and still people are pouring in by the dozen. Apparently, they can't wait to leave Germany. The Muppet Man doesn't blame them. The camera slowly pans around, soaking in the surroundings. The walls are painted white like almost any other plane. The cushioned seats, while not too expensive, provide a little comfort in the heart of the mindless rabble of people. The curtains are a strange, distasteful mixture of purple and red. Only British Airways, eh? You hear a voice blast out over the loud speaker with it's usual message of goodwill and safety precautions, but that's not important.

The Muppet Man had earlier gained himself a seat by the window on the left, and is now stretching back in it with a big yawn. The generously built woman next to him looks rather uneasy, but he looks comletely oblivious to anything around him. As he finishes stretching, he droops his head and lets it rest uncomfortably in his hand. To tell the truth, he isn't feeling too well. He thought that he might have eaten something rotten, only to be expected in Germany in his opinion, and that it was playing havoc with his systems. That's ok, he thinks, it doesn't matter. All that matters is getting out of this damned country. He despised Germany and all of it's devices. Why? Because they had the nerve to wage war against his beloved England. TWICE. Too bad for them that they lost...

He chuckles to himself at the thought. Germans being blasted to pieces all over the place...must've been great. Of course, Muppet knew better. He's just humouring himself to take away from the pain. He has a splitting headache. His hand returns to his brow, clutching it gently and slowly massaging it. Of course, that doesn't help one bit, but it sort of reassures him. After all, there was much to look forward to. He's going back to England...back home. He's going to take on Brad Polaris in single action on Meltdown. A win there could earn him a big oppurtunity, maybe even a shot at the Television Title after Rage in the Cage...

He slaps himself in the head gently. Don't think like this, he thinks, don't think too far into the future, think about the here and now. And so he does.

Brad Polaris. He's the Television Champion. He defeated Nicholas Adams to win the Television Title. Muppet was due to have a match with him while they both in the EWA, but then he was promoted, and Muppet was left to eat his dust. This had been bugging him for a long time, and long had he wanted to pay him back. Now is my chance, he thinks gleefully. I'll show that punk how it's done.

Again he slaps himself, this time harder. The woman next to him looks on uncomfortably and throws him a dirty look, three times to catch his attention. This just makes him smile. Good for her, he thinks, let her have her fun. How does it affect The Muppet Man? It doesn't. So anyway, Brad Polaris...

His trail of thought is again interrupted with another announcement.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please do up your seatbelts. We are about to take off. Have a nice trip."

To be honest, The Muppet Man couldn't care less. What difference does it make when you lift off or how the journey? It's only when you land that's important. And he can't wait for this particular landing. He doesn't mind flying, it's just that he wants to be back in England pronto. He misses it. It'll be better when I'm not touring, he thinks, when I'm in America for good.

He slaps himself for the third time for trailing off again. Both Brad Polaris and The Muppet Man are adept technical wrestlers. Of course, in Muppet's view, he is a better one, but he is still wary of Polaris. The plane jerks slowly to life, building up speed along the runway before finally taking off into the air. You hear someone in the distance throw up already...it's not gonna be a good trip for them.

Muppet Man decides it's time to kick back and relax. He twiddles with a level that leans his seat backwards and he rummages in his bag for something. He retrieves a tattered newspaper and begins to read, going straight to the back page. He flips through uninterested until he comes to the WWA section. For the first time, he speaks out loud.

"See that? 'TV Title League Hotting Up!' 'Liam Jenson Favourite to take on Brad Polaris!' You really are a target, aren't you Bradley. Now, while any normal man could probably cope with that, it must be a pretty big problem for you. Yes, Bradley, I know that in reality you are a very poor wrestler and that fate has guided you to where you are now. Why, I cannot say. But that is all in the past. Right now, you're scared out of your wits about Rage in the Cage. Don't worry, Bradley, I know. I know that you don't want to defend your title. I know that you know that if you defend it, you WILL lose it."

He stops, drawing the curtains open with a sweep of his hand. His face is immediately bathed in light, and he flinches momentarily at the brightness. As we all know, light isn't good for you when you've got a headache. Oblivious to the woman who is listening intently, he continues.

"Forget it, Bradley. That's right, forget it. Forget it all. Forget Rage in the Cage. Forget the TV Title. Forget Liam Jenson, Steven Murphy, Khaled and The Chuckster. There is only one thing that you need to worry about right now. That's right, I know you have difficulties, so I'll make it easy for you. Only one thing. Got that? Good. How hard could that possibly be?

He trails off, ending with that semi-rhetorical question, or at least he's not going to answer it anytime soon. You see the beginnings of a grin at the corner of his mouth as he raises one eyebrow and continues to talk in an exagerrated, almost mocking voice.

"That one thing...is me. On the 23rd of Febuary, Bradley Polaris, you will face the toughest opponent yet."

He stares right into the camera, unblinking.

"I am no Nick Adams. I am no Tommy Starr. I am no worthless peon who chases after worthless titles. I am your first glimpse of reality, Bradley. I am your first glimpse of a real opponent."

There is not even a hint of a grin on his face any more. It is deadly serious.

"Put it all aside. Put aside your kindness. Put aside your mercy. Put aside your Mandy Monroe. There is no time for that. You have entered the big league now. I am before you. How do you get past me?"

A pause.

"You DON'T, Brad, you DON'T. It is all written. All of it. There is no use in resisting, it will do you no good."

Another pause.

"ACCEPT YOUR FATE! Accept it, Bradley...there's no turning back now!"

Suddenly, as if a switch was flipped in the back of his head, a grin emerges on The Muppet Man's face. We cheerily waves goodbye as the picture fades out.

"Have a nice trip. Enjoy it while you can."