Darkness surrounds him.

Emotionally devoid and socially destitute, Mighty Joe sits alone amid thoughts of failure and disappointment. The day had dawned cool and full of hope, but, just as everything in his life, it had come to crashing end, battling winds and crippling rain were now pelting against his window.

Lightening attempts it’s way through the drawn curtains. It illuminates his face for a only a second, before plunging back into the darkness.

But it that moment, his expressions holds many feelings. Of pain, sorrow and frustration. Of failure and grief. But most of all, within his monstrous eyes, lies anger.

Far from being the lovable hero we all know, Mighty Joe is solemn in his ideas. The storm outside continues, just as the storm in his mind rages on.

‘You will all regret. You will all believe.’

His words are faint amid the rain and thunder. The curtains billow in the wind. The walls are etched with monosyllabic ramblings.

‘Armaan. I attempt to aid you in your struggle. However you kick me away as though I mean nothing.’

Lightening strikes again, and in the glow tears appear to be rolling down Mighty Joe’s unmasked cheek. Tears of anger.

‘Ry Ballard. With the World Title in my sights, you attempt to end my career. Your ego will be your downfall. Your ego, or your own sibling.’

‘Seth Copeland. Your victory was because of me. Do not fool yourself that and an apology is sufficient. I scratch your back, you piss on mine? The title will not rest on your shoulder for long.’

Joe stands, and his profile shows he is naked. He makes his way towards the camera in the dark, his face blinded in the shadows.

‘To all of you.’

‘The WWA roster.’

‘My moment is coming.’