Back in Sentinel's office, and we can see Sentinel is busy at his desk with his XFW duties.
Voice: Long time no see.
Sentinel looks up as the camera pulls back to show JD Allgood standing at Sentinel's desk.
Sentinel: What the hell are you doing here? This is XFW! You're not a contracted wrestler to my roster. Didn't you see what happened to your little XFA colleague, Slugger last time one of you turned up here?! (Sentinel starts to grin as he plans on having JD beaten up in a similar fashion to that of Slugger before).
JD grins back at Sentinel, completely un-phased by Sentinel's threats. He takes a seat and puts his feet up on Sentinel's desk. Sentinel is starting to look very angry at JD's disregard for authority.
JD: I saw what happened to him, yes. And frankly, I couldn't care less whether you beat up any of these worthless idiots. But you see, I'm different, I'm . . . special. I wouldn't come here unless I had a good reason. And that reason is, I want to help you.
JD grins, as Sentinel looks confused.
Sentinel: (laughs to himself in a puzzled way) You! You want to help me?! You've been nothing but a pain in the ass ever since I signed you too a contract, and the last time you were here you viciously attacked my ring announcer Erica, she's still in counseling you know, and there are a lot of people here in XFW who want to beat the holy hell out of you for what you did! So why don't you get to the point and tell me why I shouldn't let the whole XFW roster rip you limb from limb, you spoiled little pain in the ass!
JD: (still grinning) Jib Orton.
Sentinel: What??
JD: You signed Jib Orton up to a contract here. He wrestled at events ran by yourself, yes?
Sentinel: (Irritated and confused) Yes, yes I did. What does that matter, he's on XFA now, no business of mine.
JD: Quite the contrary. Jib Orton was an illegal immigrant, like most of these filthy latino's you have here in this pathetic country of yours. I had some of my people check him out and unfortunately he was deported back to Mexico, or wherever he came from. Now, I'm the only one who knows this, and at the moment I'm the only person that knows that you Sentinel, hired an illegal immigrant to work on your shows.
Sentinel: YOU SLIMY SON OF A . . . !
JD: I'd choose your words a little more carefully if I were you.
Sentinel: OK. I know your type. What do you want?
JD slides an envelope on Sentinel's desk as he gets up and goes to leave.
JD: Everything should be clear in that letter, I think.
JD leaves the office as Sentinel picks up the envelope, shaking his head.
