It's not the fall that kills you....

*A black and white filter. A large and obviously condemned building rooftop in the toxic waste part of town. Despite the cliche's, there's no rain falling in some dreary backdrop. Instead, the sun is bearing down hard and almost cooking the crumbling rooftop that, it looks like, could give way any second now. Kate Cameron, belt d|BLEEP|d over her shoulder is on the edge of it looking up at the sun, back turned to the camera* 

Kate: I was in Japan when I saw the match. Color me shocked. Little sister made good, huh, Ice Queen? Your little angel just graduated. To Hell. You sort of....sort of made a fool out of me, Crystal. You made me fulfilling an obligation to one of the few people on this planet I call a friend look like a mistake of weakness. Ironic that it hits me after I do a reunion show in the place where I first learned that, in this business, never leave survivors that can fight back.

*Kate flits her hair, but doesn't turn around*

Kate: Crystal, baby, you're not just a big girl now. You're a survivor. You passed a test. Is it butterflies you feel now? After the headache that Hex and Laura gave you. Oh by the way, you two, if you have any sense of self preservation, you'll leave Crystal's...lesson....to me and Crystal. Especially you, Laura, given your track record of butting in on title pictures where you're no longer welcome. Go ahead. Tempt me. Make me turn that twice humbling into a thrice damned curse. And Hex, patience girl, you and I still have our date with destiny to get to. Jumping the gun is just going to spoil your supper.  Where was I? Oh yes. Crystal....the night of Aftershock, you're going to feel a burning sensation. You're going to think it's jitters, probably. You're going to think maybe it's...it's adrenaline. One can certainly understand where you'd get that from. You might even chalk it up to fear. Knowing you're in the ring with the most violent woman in the business will do that to you too, don't feel bad. But I'll offer you one spoiler before that gala evening; it's a melting. It's the melting of your wings, little Icarus. From flying too close to that harsh, unforgiving sun.

*Kate picks up a discarded bottle and admires it in the intense twilight radiance* 

Kate: And plummeting down to an even harsher sea below. 

*Kate discards the bottle off the edge and leaves her perch overlooking the cityscape, a blank, thoughtful expression somewhere under that tangled mess of hair* 

Kate: But hey, like they say. It's not the fall that kills you. It's the sudden and painful stop at the bottom, isn't it? 

*Blackness just as the bottle makes a pronounced crash and shatter on the pavement.