The AEW camera fires up and begins rolling tightly zoomed in on a pair of black boots walking down the sidewalk. The sun is going down off in the distance as the camera paces to keep up with the man walking down the street. The man cuts a corner and approaches a house in what appears to be a suburban neighborhood. He starts walking slower, almost tippy-toeing as he goes around a back gate. The camera angle switches, revealing the man to be Sterling James Keenan, walking into a backyard. He notices the camera and gestures for the cameraman to be quiet as well as to continue following him. Sterling walks through the backyard and gingerly takes a seat on a nearby porch swing.

SJK: Now I know what you're thinking. It's the million dollar question on everybody's mind. "What are you doing back Sterling?" "Why now?" "Why after so much time away have you decided to return?" Well, the answer you seek is quite simple actually.

He pushes his feet out and begins to slowly and quietly rock back and forth on the porch swing.

SJK: I'm not back for retribution. I'm not back for redemption. I'm certainly not back to shamelessly plug an upcoming movie, musical tour or any other sort of nonsensical self promotion. I'm back for one reason and one reason only, and that is to cement my legacy. You see, I sat back for the better part of a year and watched as this company dug itself deeper and deeper into a hole. I watched week after week as guys like Dwayne and your beloved Space Boy made a mockery out of the company I worked so hard to help build. And as I'm watching name after countless name cycle through the spotlight it dawned on me; the AEW Universe is content with their poster boys like Rocky, Punk, Colt. And they more than likely have forgotten about yours truly; the devil's own. And I for one, was not going to ideally sit back and watch as my AEW legacy slowly but surely perished.

SJK stops rocking and looks directly into the camera, his usual smug look quickly fading away, turning into a stern, serious expression.

SJK: So I knew what I had to do; I knew I had to come back and make an example out of someone. But who? There are so many names. I couldn't make an impactful return on just anybody's account. It had to be someone who had a deep history with the company, someone who had a legacy just like myself, if not surpassing mine. Now it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who has the longest and most prestigious tenure in this company. Anyone with a half a brain that watches AEW could tell you who fits that description to a tee. So with my upcoming victim hand selected, I just had to wait and bide my time. In this industry timing is everything. If I would have made my triumphant return too early there more than likely would have been too many variables and roadblocks thrown in the way. So I waited, and waited, and waited for the perfect opportunity to arise. And just like a little kid on Christmas morning, I was handed a perfectly packaged gift, bow and all. My unsuspecting adversary, unbeknownst to my plan, came out before the AEW Universe and ever so foolishly offered up an open challenge for a match on the grandest stage of them all; Superclash. And not just any match, but his signature match. The match that he has sacrificed life and limb competing in over the past two years. I could not have asked for a more perfect situation. All my waiting, was well worth the reward. My plan had finally come into fruition. So what did I do? I struck while the iron was hot.

Sterling stands up and begins walking around the side of the house. He reaches the side of the house and stops right before reaching a bay window. The camera zooms in and focuses in on a middle aged woman in a night gown, sitting back in a recliner reading a paperback novel of some sort. Sterling peaks his head towards the window and watches the woman for a moment before directing his attention back towards the camera.

SJK: I could not believe my ears or my eyes when Cactus Jack came out on Concussion and offered up an open challenge to anyone sick and twisted enough to face him inside the satanic structure that is the hell in a cell. And at Superclash nonetheless. The pay-per-view in which he defies the odds, where he is able to sustain insurmountable amounts of pain and agony, where Cactus Jack becomes practically inhuman. Only seemed fitting that I'd be the individual that would come out and accept this Herculean like challenge. After all, who is more emotionally deprived and mentally deranged than yours truly? I only ask because it is going to take one sick, maniacal son of a bitch like myself to beat that lunatic Cactus Jack in his own backyard. Other screw looses have attempted to do so in the past. And not only did they fail, they were lucky to have just survived.

SJK creeps past the window, ducking underneath it as he continues to walk along the side of the house. He stops when he reaches a bedroom with two young teenage boys inside it. They are sitting on the floor, cross legged in front of a television, playing video games together. Sterling watches them for a minute, keeping a good amount of distance between the window and himself.

SJK: You see, his adversaries in the past have been foolish and naive. They didn't see the big picture. They were concerned about beating him in a simple match or one upping him in a feud. Admirable, I'll give them that. But foolish nonetheless. They would have Cactus on the brink of extinction but at the very last second he would escape what seemed to be his inevitable fate. For Christ sake, the man was buried alive and was set ablaze while inside a casket but he still managed by the skin of his teeth to survive and walk away unharmed and unfazed. But do you know the difference between myself and his previous detractors? I'm not going to leave any doubt. I'm going to end him and make sure everyone watches as as he slowly withers away and the hands of the devil himself. From what I have learned over the years in this business is that when dealing with a psychopath like Mick you're never going to one up him easily nor quickly. It's always the longest knife that cuts the deepest. The knife that slides between the ribs and slowly but surely forces you to bleed out; that's what gets the job done. And that is exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to take the metaphorical long, rusty knife and plunge it Mick's ribs. You see, I could easily go for the heart or the jugular and kill him with ease. But where's the fun in that? No suffering equals no satisfaction. I don't want to just kill Mrs. Foley's baby boy. I want to raze his legacy to the ground and salt the earth in his wake.

Sterling continues to creep along the wall on the side of the house until he reaches a slightly cracked window. Inside we see a young adult female with a towel wrapped around her body as well as one wrapped around her head. She is checking herself out in the mirror as SJK checks her out from a safe distance. He ducks down and looks back at the camera.

SJK: Now I know what you're thinking; "This is crazy Sterling." "You're insane." "You're going to do all of this just to solidify your own legacy?" And that is half of it, yes. But the other half, well the other half of the reason I'm doing this is for Mick and more importantly...his family. If you think about it, if you really take the time to sit back and contemplate it, it's disturbing what Mick has not only put himself through, but what he's put his poor, innocent family through. All the years of his wife watching his barbaric matches, seeing all the carnage and wondering, match after brutal match, if her husband would be coming home the same person he was when he left. Or all the times Mick's little boys just wanted to play with daddy but he was too busy mending his wounds, so much so that he couldn't even do the most basic of activities like playing catch with his own sons. Or how about all the...attention...that he deprived his beautiful daughter of? I mean, all a little girl wants while growing up is her father's approval. And with Mick being on the road so much, I highly, highly doubt he gave it to her what she so desperately desires. But fear not Micky boy, I'll give beautiful Noelle what she is so desperately longing for.

The camera focuses back in on the bedroom where the girl is still standing. Moments pass before she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Sterling approaches the window with a sick grin on his face.

SJK: Now this is normally the part where Mick's enemies leave him some sort of cerebral message. But that's just not my style. Me personally, I'd much rather send a message to Mick's family. And that message is daddy's home.

SJK scales up the wall, holding onto the window frame before climbing into the empty bedroom. He gracefully gets up to his feet, dusts himself off and eagerly rubs his hands together as a demented grin stays perfectly formed on his face. The camera slowly pans out of the house and back towards the side of the house. The camera goes through a side gate until reaching the front yard. As the camera is leaving the house it slowly focuses in on the houses mail box that reads "The Foleys" in big white print on the front of it. The camera slowly fades to black on that image.