PRICE is an Addict.

[INFINITE PRO.]

"My name is David James Price Senor, and I am an addict."

We are going old-school with this one folks, PRICE sitting alone in some stairwell.

"A lot of you know me as The Messiah of Hardcore PRICE, some of you don't have a single clue who the fuck I am. And that's fair, I've been retired for over ten years now and this current generation doesn't remember what they had for dinner last night let alone their elders from yester year. And to be quite honest, it doesn't matter what the fuck I did all those years ago now does it? Naw that was a different time and age, and I'm not the man I once was back then."

He pauses and slowly looks dead into the camera as he fixes his hat to sit on the back half of his head.

"I'm much worse.

I'm a junkie that's fiendin' for his fix."

He taps his arm near the bend of his elbow and looks down and away as he continues.

"Nearly 15 years ago I faked my death and walked away from this business for what I thought, was for good. I got's myself a nice little private island just off the coast of Tahiti.

A truly magical place.

Surrounded myself with ten ten's ifyaknowwhatImean, the best rum and THE finest cheeba. I was living the good life in tropical paradise. Life was good, life was grand, life was BORING."

He looks back at the camera with a questionable look on his face.

"You'd think I'd be happy right? No longer beating my body up for a handshake and hotdog, no longer bleeding my weight in blood every month, no longer having to deal with Nelly Angel's stupid ass questions, or Mongo's bible thumping ass.

And I was at first. It was nice to sit back relax and not have a single worry in the world.

But then the joneses started kicking in, that urge, that need, that WANT."

He pulls out a Newport and lights it up.

"And as much as I missed the hustle and bustle of the city, the dirt, the grime, the smell of toxic waste sitting in the gutters, smell of human piss from the ally ways, stepping over broken needles and broken men, there was one urge I just couldn't fight off anymore.

The urge for violence, pain, and suffering."

He looks up at the camera once more with a slight grin as he blows smoke from his nose.

"And not even inflicting it on to others, NO! I missed my OWN pain, my OWN suffering. The only way I feel alive, is by being inches away from death."

He lets that settle in for a second.

"So that's why I am back, back on the XHF Network, and here in IPW.

Because I'm nothing more than a dirty violence addict.

Which brings us to you "Hangman" Jack Haggard, son of the semi infamous "Crazy Ace" Hank Haggard Sr. Oh yeah I know your pops, big fish in a little southern pond. Pure crazy son of bitch to I'll give him that but shit son you being here in IPW, here in Ireland? You've already traveled further away from home than he ever did. Good for you.

And see, I could sit here and run down everything I've ever done, the championships I've won, the champions I've defeated. I could sit here and demand that you respect me for what I've accomplished in the past.

But I think you might be a bit more like me and Spike Kane, in that you could probably not give two shits who or what I've done in the past.

And you shouldn't.

I wouldn't."

He shakes his head no.

Just like I don't give a rats ass that your pops is some Southern Hardcore Legend. Come May 15th in The National Stadium in Dublin, Ireland Imma whoop your ass so bad you'll be calling me papi by the end of it.

See Jack, this is my first singles match in almost 15 fucking years, and I'm sure this will not be the last time we face off against each other here in IPW, naw I imagine you and your brothers have got the same goals as we do, Tag Team Gold. But this Sunday aint about Tag Teams or gold, now is it son? Naw, it's a simple one on one match to show IPW just who the fuck we are. It's a match for me to introduce myself to the new fans, for those that already know, remind them, JUST WHO THE FUCK I AM AND WHAT I DO.

I'm just a filthy addict to pain and suffering.

And you Jack Haggard.

You're nothing more than a fix."

He takes a long drag off his smoke.

"Don't come into this match star struck and wide-eyed Jack, because if you do, Imma chew you up and spit you out like the fried southern trash that you is. Imma bend you over and spank ya ass like I was ya old man, Imma a kick the last remaining teeth outta that busted ugly ass skull of yours. Imma show you just who the fuck I am and what I, and I alone, am capable of doing, and why you, and everyone else in this locker room, shit everyone on this entire fucking NETWORK, needs to FEAR, The Chaos Theory.

He takes one last long drag off his Newport before flicking it away

And that is the gospel of PRICE

For he has spoken."

He throws up his GUNS hand sign before adjusting his IPW hat back down over his forehead as he gets up and walks off.