The SmackDown ring, bathed in the signature blue glow, became your personal battleground. The roar of the crowd, a sea of faces blurring into a wall of sound, faded into a distant hum as your anger took center stage. You had stormed into the arena, a tempest of fury, leaving your vehicle abandoned in the garage, a mere afterthought in your quest for retribution.

Your voice, amplified by the microphone, echoed through the vast arena, a declaration of war against Kevin Owens. You had laid bare your grievances, the raw, burning anger fueled by his brutal, unprovoked attack after the BadBlood PPV. The lingering tension, the result of your controversial alliance with a former adversary, had finally erupted into violence, and now, you demanded answers.

Suddenly, a voice, laced with sarcasm and defiance, cut through the air. Kevin Owens, his voice amplified by a microphone, spoke from the shadows, his words a calculated provocation. "I gotta say... I'm a little uh... I'm a little insulted," he drawled, the words dripping with mock indignation. "See, because I was summoned to be here tonight on SmackDown because the great champion and face of the company wanted me here, and you can't deny the champion's request, so here I am."

The spotlight snapped to life, illuminating Owens high above the ring, perched near an entranceway in the audience. His figure, silhouetted against the bright lights, radiated a sense of smug superiority. "I think I deserve better than this!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the arena.

He paused, his gaze fixed on you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Here's the thing," he continued, his voice laced with a venomous undertone, "you're probably not used to this sort of thing anymore, but you don't get what you want just because you want it." His words hung in the air, a challenge, a taunt, a declaration that the battle had just begun.