Darkness is broken up by white VHS tracking lines and random splotches. A crow can be heard squawking faintly, it's sounds echoing in the distance. A church bell is heard over the crow as foot steps are heard. Leaves are crunching beneath the steps as the sound of dead leaves blowing across concrete can be heard as black and white video starts rolling. The camera pans up from the leaves on the ground as it approaches a shoddy booth with a large flashing sign above it that says “Tickets”. The bell tolls for the 9th time as the crow can still be heard echoing its squawks. Standing inside the ticket booth is an old time carnival barker wearing a top hat and pinstriped suit. His eyes are jet black, covered by scleral contact lenses. His mouth is distorted by lipstick, giving him a Cheshire cat like smile. He slowly grins, exposing a black smile, a metal grill composed of sharp upper and lower teeth. He drags his tongue across his upper teeth to accentuate his self-imposed deformity. He begins to speak in a similar pattern of the early 1900s sing-songy Transatlantic accent.

Unknown Carnival Barker
Come one, come all. Right this way. Welcome to Raven's Clockwork Orange House of Fun! Will you be joining us sir? Please come in, free for one. We've got such surprises for allllllll of your eyeses.

The Barker lets out a sinister laugh as the camera makes its way through a rusted metal door. There's no light inside the building as the door violently slams and everything goes black. Immediately a crow squawks as the lights all turn on. We're now in full color and focused on Raven. He's sitting on a dusty gray warehouse floor. His right knee is slightly bent with his left leg thrown out to the side. His lower body is covered with a red and black plaid kilt. His feet are covered by his trademark black wrestling boots with his white calf length socks slightly poking out around the top. His tanned upper body is covered only by an unzipped leather jacket. His slicked back bleached blonde hair is pressed against a spidered funhouse mirror. Darkness covers the walls around him, it looks like there's a spotlight focused directly on him. He wipes across his mouth with his right hand before looking into the camera. He's looking down at the floor.

Raven
Scott Anthony, Scotty the Body, Scotty Flamingo, Johnny Polo. Four very different men. All four men have one thing in common.

Raven looks up and pulls his head from the mirror staring daggers into the camera's lens. His eyes accentuated by heavy eyeliner underneath his eyes.

Raven
None of them have ever pandered to an audience. None of them have ever kissed ass to advance themselves in the eyes of a wrestling promoter or mark. All of them paved their own way, all of them did what they could to become what they are. And what they are, is Raven.

His words trail off with a deep level of disgust.

Raven
Which conveniently brings me to Dude Love, Mankind, Cactus Jack, Lionheart, and Chris Jericho. Two men who have made careers out of pandering. Two men who have done nothing but kiss ass to advance. Two men who have sold their souls so far down the river I don't even know if they'll ever get them back. You guys want to call yourselves ECW Originals? This bullshit company wants to book this match as an ECW Originals match? The only original product getting into that ring at Barely Legal is me.

Raven takes a moment to catch his breath as the camera zooms in closer, giving him a bust shot.

Raven
Jack, maybe it's the chairs to the head catching up with you, but you seem to forget November to Remember 1995 when you let Terry Funk and Tommy Dreamer pin me in a match you teamed with me during. You mentioned a Flock when all I had here was a Nest. You mentioned a whole lot of nothing to try and convince these people that you were here but the truth is when it came time for Cactus Jack to sign a deal, you were in Connecticut before the front door even closed all the way. I was here. Tommy was here. Sandman was here. All the people you left behind were here helping to build this into what it became so you could come back here thirty years later to claim you're an Original and talk about how much you cared about it.

He curls his lip as he uses his tapes right hand and black nail polish laces fingers to brush a few stray strands of his blonde hair out of his face.

Raven
That brings me to Chris Jericho.

A look of disgust brushes over his face like saying the name made him forcefully inhale toxic gas.

Raven
Chris Jericho once made me tap out to a Lion Tamer in 1998. Chris Jericho is another guy who has stuck around for far too long while having no talent. Chris, you've been a coat rail rider since day one and even today you maintain your ability to trail better wrestlers to make yourself relevant. You arrived in ECW on Lance Storm's back and as soon as you could you stabbed him in it to jump ship. When you jumped ship it had nothing to do with your ability, it had everything to do with Eric Bischoff being too dumb to know the difference between Dean Malenko, Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, Rey Mysterio Jr., and… Chris Jericho?

Again the look of disgust crosses his face, the name alone disgusting Raven.

Raven
Chris, you're not here because you give a shit about the legacy of ECW. You're here, and brought your 15 friends along with you, so that you can try and pretend you're more important to the legacy of ECW and professional wrestling than you actually are. You're the same guy who thinks he's a professional wrestling genius who's best idea was a countdown to a debut that he used three other times to dreadful effect. You scammed your way into the door promising Paul that he could have Daniel Garcia if he put you in the main event.

He squints his eyes a little bit before mocking Jericho’s voice with a high pitch whiny tone.

Raven
“It'll be great Paul look at all this young talent I can bring with me, we'll sell a ton of tickets and pay per views just put me and Cactus in the main event and watch how great it'll be! We'll sell out everything!”

He stops with the voice and face.

Raven
Paul Heyman isn't an idiot, he gave you what you wanted, he brought your guys on board. But Paul wants this Rebirth thing to work. He wants this to succeed, so what he didn't tell you when he promised you the world, was that he was going to add a little thing called The Raven Effect. No one at home looking to buy this event believes that you two idiots are here for any reason other than a quick pay check and you'll be out the door like the carny scum you've always been. Paul sat at his desk. He had question after question for himself. “When these two have their one match and leave, what about the next main event? When they're gone again like always what about the future of ECW Anarchy? When these two realize they don't have it anymore, what about an ECW Champion? When these two guys are gone what about ticket sales?” The answer to that question is a simple different question. What about me? What about Raven?

The scene fades to black while Raven lays back against the broken mirror.