The camera opens in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse. The flicker of a single lightbulb casts long shadows across the cracked walls. Bill Alfonso paces in front of the camera, his whistle swinging wildly from his neck, a look of manic fury etched across his face. Behind him, Mil Muertes looms silently, a statue of unrelenting menace. Alfonso’s voice is sharp and venomous as he turns to face the camera.

WHISTLE BLOWS!
Bill Alfonso: Paul Heyman! You better listen to me, daddy, because I’ve got news that’s gonna keep you up at night. You thought ignoring me was the answer? You thought leaving Mil Muertes off the first Anarchy card was gonna stop him? HA! You’re dumber than I thought, Paul, because no matter how many times you dodge my calls, no matter how many times you try to keep him in the shadows, Mil Muertes WILL be at Anarchy! And when he shows up, daddy, there ain’t a damn thing you can do to control the chaos that’s coming!

He blows his whistle twice, pacing faster, his voice rising with every word.

Bill Alfonso: This isn’t a warning it’s a promise! You’ve built ECW on the backs of chaos, blood, and violence, but you don’t even know the meaning of those words. Mil Muertes isn’t just a wrestler. He’s destruction. He’s a storm. And when he walks into Anarchy, there won’t be any rules. There won’t be any control. There’ll only be bodies. Broken, shattered, lifeless bodies left in his wake!

Alfonso grabs a steel chair nearby and slams it against the concrete floor, the sound echoing through the warehouse. He points the chair at the camera, his face twisted with rage.

Bill Alfonso: You think you can stop him, Paul? You think you can keep him out? Mil Muertes doesn’t ask for permission, daddy! He doesn’t wait for an invitation! When he wants something, he TAKES it! And when he steps foot into Anarchy, the ECW locker room better pray, because there’s nothing you, or your roster, or your security can do to stop what’s coming. Jericho, RVD, Sandman, Cactus Jack all those hardcore legends you lean on to sell this ‘extreme’ brand? They’ll fall just like the rest. When they do, the world’s gonna see what ECW really is, a company too scared to face the man who defines violence.

WHISTLE BLOWS!
Alfonso turns to Mil Muertes, who steps forward, cracking his knuckles. His eyes burn with cold fury as Alfonso’s voice grows quieter, more menacing.

Bill Alfonso: You thought you could control the chaos, Paul. You thought leaving him off the card would keep everyone safe. But you don’t control Mil Muertes. You don’t control the Man of a Thousand Deaths. You don’t control DESTRUCTION! When he steps into that ring, when he throws his first punch, the blood he spills is on YOUR hands. The violence, the carnage, the screams of your roster that’s all on you, Paul. You’ve made your bed, and now you’re gonna lie in it.

Alfonso steps aside, letting Mil Muertes take center stage.

Bill Alfonso: Let me tell you something, daddy Mil Muertes doesn’t just destroy bodies. He destroys legacies. When he’s done at Anarchy, there won’t be an ECW left for you to hide behind.

Alfonso steps closer to the camera, lowering his voice, each word dripping with venom.

Bill Alfonso: You can try to stop him. You can send your security. You can throw every hardcore legend you’ve got at him. But nothing will stop what’s coming. At Anarchy, Mil Muertes will show up. He will fight. He will destroy. The blood, the chaos, the wreckage he leaves behind? That will be YOUR legacy, Paul. Not extreme. Not hardcore. Just fear. So get ready, daddy. Because when the storm hits, there’s no turning back. You’ve unleashed death, and now you’re gonna pay the price.

The massive figure glares into the camera, his voice deep and guttural.
Mil Muertes: Anarchy cannot stop me. ECW cannot stop me. Paul Heyman… cannot stop me. At Anarchy, I will bring death to your ring. And no one will survive.

Mil Muertes grabs the chair from Alfonso and SLAMS it into the concrete floor, shattering it. Alfonso blows his whistle furiously, stepping back into the frame.

Bill Alfonso: That’s right, daddy! You’ve been warned. At Anarchy, Mil Muertes will arrive. And when he does, ECW won’t just be extreme it’ll be DEAD!

WHISTLE BLOWS!
The screen cuts to black as Alfonso laughs maniacally, Mil Muertes’ shadow looming over him.