EEW comes back from commercial, Brantley is shown in the ring, in a trench coat, a black hat, and an attempt of being ominous. He had a microphone in hand, he looked up to the camera and crowds of millions and billions and trillions of Marauders! He frowned and kept an unusually serious face while raising the microphone to his face beginning to speak.

"When Midnight strikes the clock, the Marauders come out. Remember that phrase, for when the Midnight Marauders become the Extreme Entertainment Wrestling Tag Team Championships, you all will bow to the might of which belonging to myself and my partner. He shall not be named for he should not have to be named. Now, I know you all know who I am, though you probably are not used to the intensity I glow. I am a born champion, a conceived winner. But here, in EEW, we have the likes of, of, JASON BYERS, ANGEL, KYLE DRACIOUS?! Who are these to think they are worth a damn? And then we look at the champions. Take a long look, then tell me they are not all washed up hacks. Do it, I dare you.

I know many of you think, how can he talk? He lost to Jed in the first round of the EEW Championship Tournament. Well ******** you. ******** Jed. And ******** the bookers. They just give oldies the win. Hell, Jed's in the booking I bet. He just wanted to make himself look good over me. The only reason Dracious is anywhere is because he is the head booker. He just cheated all the actual talent to get himself on top. That's all EEW has come to really. EEW is WWE. I bet all of you don't know what this is, except smarks, but I'll get to them later. This is politics, backstage politics. They win because they have more pull, they kiss the more a**, and they suck the most d**k. And you smarks are the worst. You walk around the wrestling community on the boards and s**t like you're geniuses. The smartest wrestling fan is like the most athletic morbidly obese kid. It means s**t to nothing.

All of these factors are why I left. All of you, all of the creative, the writers, the bookers, the bosses, everything. You all think you can walk all over me, like I'm the lowest of the low. The chopped liver in a house of steaks. The Canada to the America, the North Korea to the China. I mean absolutely s**t. ******** EEW. I don't need this. I'm in the main event of a rival company in Britain. You think I need this. You don't need me less than I don't need you. I get paid. You waste your money on boring s**t like this. This EEW is the New ECW that was in WWE. The old EEW would look at this EEW, scoff, say, "Noob," then walk off it and get to serious ******** business. This EEW looks at the old EEW and idolizes it, why? Because they got s**t done unlike here. But you know what? I'm going to change that. I'm going to make this place worth a s**t, sounds like it might be a miracle, but I'll pull it off. Peace. Bitches."

With that, Brantley walked to the back. No music, no flashy s**t, not the regular Brantley. Just a silent, slow walk to the back. He looked at no one and did not give a single smile. The crowd boo'd but they knew he was serious, he meant business.