The gunman stood perched in the knee high grass atop the hill. From this scenic overlook he could see for miles out over the city streets and the Interstate, but the semi-automatic rifle he holds in one hand ensures a far less serene purpose.

On the street below, the vulture's target unknowingly moves closer to the hungry predator. The prey waves as a cheering throng lines the street around him, their adoration a stark contrast to the contempt in the eyes of the black-clad hunter above.

The car window opens as the rear seat passenger reaches out to shake the hands of those gathered. Through that window, a head comes into view. One corner of the armed man's mouth turns up in a subtle but cold grin as he takes a final drag of his cigarette before dropping it into the grass and stomping it out with the heel of his black boot.

The hunter kneels in the grass as the prey sits helplessly below. A rifle slowly rises as the trigger man sets his sights and takes aim at his target. His finger eases back on the trigger and a shot rings out through the twilight. From out of the setting sun beyond the hill, the bullet slams into the chest of its victim and penetrates through the heart. On the hill, the gunman smiles brutally as only he hears the distinctive 'CLICK' of the trigger.

A second shot follows the first killing blow, and it strikes the head of the hunter's human game. The killer quickly rises and charges down the side of the hill, firing off one last shot before returning the weapon to his original one-handed grip. This third and final shot slams harmlessly into the front quarter panel of the car as the driver circles around the back of the vehicle and pulls his wounded passenger out of the car.

The road below the hill is painted red as a continuing flow of blood stains the pavement, while the man who caused the mess flees on foot, unseen by any witness. He quickly stashes his Armalite AR-15 in the trunk of a rental car in his driveway, then enters a shed in the backyard. Inside the shed, he opens a trapdoor in the floor and climbs down a staircase into an underground hideout.

A man lies dead in the street, his suit drenched in his own blood. This man who had been an advocate for peace has been killed in violence. With his death, the desire for peace has once again been killed by the desire for war.

From his bunker, the killer watches on television as an innocent man is arrested and taken to jail for his crime. Now in the clear, this friend of war and violence leaves his shed and hops in the rented car. He smiles as he backs down the driveway and calmly drives away. Still dressed in his black t-shirt and jeans, and with the rifle in his trunk, the unidentified assassin jumps on the Interstate and leaves the state in his rear view mirror. He lights up a cigarette as the scene fades to black.

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Josh Konnely lays prone on a rifle range, an M16A2 in hand. He is decked out in full desert camouflage, with a matching kevlar helmet and body armor. He takes aim down range, firing at targets as they pop up down range.

He fires twenty rounds from the prone supported, followed by ten unsupported and ten kneeling.

"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!"

Following completion of the kneeling shooting position, Konnely and the other shooters stand and leave the range. As they are cleared off the firing line, Josh drinks from a bottle of Poland Spring water. After making it off the range, Konnely crosses the street and stands in the shade of the woodline. There he removes the helmet and body armor, allowing them to drop to the grass at his feet. He downs the rest of the water, then speaks.

"So SFT, your final judgment has returned. It would seem as though you missed me, by the response I got last week when I returned. In response to that, allow me to make one thing perfectly clear. When I return to the ring tomorrow night on Breakdown, I will not be looking to make any friends. Or fans. I will not be looking to PLEASE anyone.

To the contrary, I will be looking to make only one person happy tomorrow. That person is number one. That person is ME.

Tomorrow night I face former two-time World 'Champion' Saint Jude, and newcomer Ryan Cage. The winner will be named number one contender for the United States Championship.

So here is the situation: I just returned to SFT last week. All I have to do this week is to defeat a two-time flash in the pan paper champion and a man who was not even in the Towers when last I wrestled, and just doing that will give me a US Championship match.

Wow.

It would seem as though the STANDARDS in SFT have drastically decreased since last I was here.

I cannot profess to know Mister Cage, though I can only assume he's the third most accomplished and talented person of that name in SFT history: behind 'The Franchise' Christian Cage and the one-name 'Franchise Player' Cage.

Saint Jude, on the other hand, I am a little more familiar with. The little hobo that could. I am not sure I buy into Jude's "saint" claims, but I do know that it was MIRACULOUS that he won the SFT Championship once- let alone twice.

So perhaps their is a little 'Divine Intervention' on his side after all.

Ryan Cage meanwhile seems to have some promise. While his most powerful weapon would seem to be the F Bomb, he looks to me as though he will go to whatever lengths necessary to get what he wants. A man after my own heart if my assessment proves accurate.

And Ryan, while I agree with almost every word of what you said to 'Saint' Jude, it seems to me as though you are excessively distracted. Tyler? I take it you were speaking of Tyler Veritas, the current United States Champion? Well, Tyler is in a triple threat match of his own at Breakdown, and it isn't the same one you and I will be in. While I might hate to do it, if your head is not in the game, I will destroy you. That's not boasting, that's just fact.

My mission for Breakdown is two-fold. Objective one is to inflict pain and to hurt someone, thereby sending a message to SFT that the Park City Punisher- the Konnecticut Krippler- is back full force and taking no prisoners. Objective two, the secondary goal, is to win the match. From there I will move on and I will take the United States Championship away from whichever chump wins it this week. Once objective one is carried out, objective two will merely be a formality.

Saint Jude... the only person who can get away with changing tenses twice in a single sentence... and yet still be a two-time SFT Champion. He thinks I am rusty because I have been away from the ring. Maybe in some ways. Maybe, Jude, my technical and grappling skills will be slightly off tomorrow night when I get in the ring for the first time in months. But do not overlook this one simple fact: thought abilities may go cold when laying dormant, aggression and violence never rest. Triple threat rules mean that I can be as nasty and as brutal as I need to be to carry out my mission. I will break you both if I have to, and then someone is going to get choked out. War is reborn in SFT, and it begins with tomorrow night's Battle of Breakdown. I will win at any cost.

Jude, He will not save you. He cannot save you. War is Hell, and Hell is my home. None who enter ever walk out quite the way they came in.

Cage, you say that a new day is dawning. I say that, quite to the contrary, the sun is already setting on your day. Tonight the Butcher of Bridgeport returns, bringing his personal war of cleansing back to Breakdown. Ryan Cage, your day has come and gone just that fast. Tomorrow your career gets plunged into the darkest night, where the war I bring will consume your self-proclaimed 'new day.'

Jude and Cage, as different as two people can be. And me in the middle. Though they are so vastly different, tomorrow night they share the same fate. They each enter their own personal Hell with the returning Josh Konnely, where they will both be broken. Neither will be able to escape my Death Grip. None will survive, for my talent is surpassed only by my viciousness. A lethal combination indeed.

As I make my return, I am taking aim at one target and one target only. A target made of solid gold. The World Heavyweight Championship. I will bring my war to SFT once more, and I don't care who I have to shoot down to reclaim that golden throne. Ryan Cage... Saint Jude... you have been warned. My mission will be completed, and my battle won."

Konnely grabs his kevlar helmet and body armor and makes his way back across the street as the sounds of the firing range ring through the twilight. Fade to darkness.