My hands are clean. [Eric Dane]

[Justin]

The media coverage for tonight's joint NPW/XHF production of the 2nd Week of the End of Days event has been significantly higher than your average Canadian independent show would garner. It could be chalked up to the presence of star power from the XHF at large and the tournament matches on the show. It could also be explained by the show's location in South Korea, where the wrestling media in general has a much larger presence in the Far East than it does in the Great White North.

The point is, the post-show media scrum has a much thicker hustle and bustle than normal.

It takes place in a much larger room, that is unusually crowded.

Moments after the events of the Main Event, the now former Canadian Commonwealth Champion finds himself setting behind a small table, no championship neatly folded in front of him and the eyes of dozens of wrestling journalistic types glaring at him, waiting with baited breath on him to lose his ever-loving mind over what went down out in the ring only moments ago.

After a few moments to catch his breath and align his thoughts, The Only Star speaks.

"This is on you now, Gus."

Eric's tone is low, his demeanor measured.

"Maybe you thought I'd pin this on that moron Alex Turner."

Eyes roll, Dane is clearly not a happy man.

"Well, in that case, you were wrong. I expected fuckery out of Timeless, it's in his nature and pretty much the only thing he brings to the table past that disease ridden cock-holster that follows him around like some kind of lost puppy."

An awkward silence follows, not a single soul dares to speak up and ask him a question.

"I'll deal with Turner in due time, Gus, you can better believe that. But that's not what you're gonna wanna focus on for the foreseeable future. You see, you've taken the one thing from me that was staying my hand. That ten pounds of gold was what has kept my temper in check over the past weeks and months, and in a flash now it's gone."

His lips curl into a half-snarl.

"So from right now, this very instant, until such a time as my championship is returned, I won't be held responsible for anything that happens to anyone involved with Northern Pro Wrestling. Nobody is safe anymore, Gus, and it's on you. You're going to regret the day that you encouraged that mouth-breathing fuckwit to stick his nose in my business. I'll burn this whole motherfucker to the ground to make a point, Gus, and if you don't believe me then you'd better do a quick fuckin' Google search of my name."

Arms cross over his chest, the expression on his face doesn't change.

"So Gus, you've got a decision to make now. I'd encourage you to take the night, maybe even take a few days until we're all nestled safely back in your comfort zone of Nova Scotia, and gather your thoughts. Weigh the pros and cons of your actions here tonight. And when you're done, for your sake... for NPW's sake... you'd better make the right decision on how to proceed forward from here."

With that, The Only Star stands to leave.

Out of respect, or fear, not a single hand is raised to question him.

Don't think that'll stop the hype machine, though.

Northern Pro Wrestling is officially on the map.