Voice: Looks like it's going to be a busy weekend for me, eh, Tyler?

Other voice: Looks like. But why are you doing this in the dark?

Voice: Take the lens cap off, you idiot.

(The scene quickly opens up before us. Tracer Bullet is standing around in his backyard, leaning on the pushbar of a lawnmower.)

Tyler: Oh. We're outside. Perhaps I should look away from the eyepiece every once in awhile.

TB: Perhaps. Now, as I was saying, it looks like it's going to be a busy weekend for me. Not only do I have a match against that smarmy little punk Adams at Agony, Inc., and not only do I have to fight someone on Meltdown whose identity I don't even know yet...

(Tracer reaches down and attempts to pull-start his mower. The engine sputters a little bit, but refused to kick over.)

TB: ... but I also have to get this stupid lawn mowed.

Tyler: Why? You could just as easily hire someone to do it. It's not like you don't have the money.

TB: When you own your own home, Tyler, you take a certain kind of pride in keeping up the landscape yourself. But this damn lawnmower is doing nothing but fighting me lately. It's a lot like my opponent at the big EWA show, Nicholas Adams. Both take a lot of work to get started, and even when the motor is running, neither one will go anywhere without a lot of pushing. Unlike this lawnmower, however, our little friend has been pushing back. Starting with his theft of the gift I gave my wife on our first anniversary, leading to his lifting of the original WWA World Title right out from under my nose... hell, the little pisher even managed to upend Deimos on the most recent Meltdown, while I suffered a loss to Shaman. But don't get a big head just yet, Adams.

(Tracer again tries to start the lawnmower, and again he fails.)

TB: Because even though your star may be on the rise right now, my star has always burned brightly, and will only serve to eclipse yours.

Tyler: Does this "always" include those 28 losses you've suffered?

TB: Tyler, learn when to keep your mouth shut. The legend is talking here.

Tyler: Mantis is here?

TB: Me, dolt. But you know, Nick... I really do wish you luck in your match on Monday. Because should you happen to worm your way into the Rage in the Cage main event, and somehow win... it will only add that much bigger of a prize to the pot when I inevitably get to introduce you to crushing defeat yet again. The first time will be Friday night. Hope you enjoy it.

(Tracer again attempts the pull-cord. And the lawnmower starts! Wait... no... no, it doesn't. Sorry to get your hopes up.)

TB: Son of a bitchin' machine... anyway, though, Monday night will be an interesting little exercise in improv, I should think. I'm not going to know who my opponent is until I get to the arena that night.

(Tracer strokes his chin conspiratorially.)

TB: Or WILL I? I am, after all, a private eye...

Tyler: Duh-nuh-nuhhhh!

TB: What was that, Tyler?

Tyler: Sting music. Last I checked, the editing guys didn't have that file anymore. They're still looking, though.

TB: Ah. All right, then. And I see that I'm not the only one who has a mystery opponent that night. Brad Polaris, the guest referee in Friday's match, is also trying to track down who his opponent is going to be. Hate to break it to you there, kid, but you're not going to find out any sooner than I do. Did you make a living on the streets following paper trails and other assorted clues? No. But I did. And I have to think your assumption of our facing either Denrol or Ventressa is a tad unfounded. It might be one of them, but really, you're just guessing. Come up with some evidence, and then we'll talk. Personally, I'm looking more into people who haven't been seen in awhile. Interestingly enough, my own wife's brother-in-law, Nikodemous Segier, seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth recently. At least, I haven't been able to get in touch with him, and we used to be as close as brothers back in the day. That's odd, to say nothing else about it. So before Monday rolls around, I'm hoping to look a bit deeper into Nik's whereabouts. I've got a feeling there's more to what's going on than meets the eye.

(Tracer pulls the mower's cord again. Nothing. He uses the "pull-pull-pull" method, and still gets nothing. He finally throws his hands up in disgust and begins walking away from the offending lawn tool.)

Tyler: What now, o mighty homeowner?

TB: Now? Now, I'll be calling a landscaping service. There's a fine line between taking pride in a job done by yourself, and being a complete idiot. I'm not about to tread that line too closely.

Tyler: So we're done?

TB: With both the interview and pissing around with that lawnmower? You're damn skippy.

(Tracer stalks back into his house, fuming. Tyler lazily kicks the lawnmower, which starts up immediately.)

Tyler: Uh-oh...

(Tyler reaches down and pulls the choke, effectively killing the motor. The mower stops.)

Tyler: I just don't think I could take having him come out and ask how I managed to do it.

(Fade to black.)