PROMO - And Then The Witch Doctor...

[Guest Evolution]

A door clicks open as a 6-foot-nothing man in white steps through the door, closing it behind as it makes a louder click, shutting behind him. Across the sterile white room, John Duran lifts his previously-hung head, letting his black hair fall just over his eyes.

 

"Alright, John, I've got the results of your checkup," the doctor says in a plain voice.

 

Duran has no response for the doctor, so he continues. "John, do you already know about the...um..."

 

The doctor coughs uncomfortably, and Duran smirks. "Yeah, I know, doc. It's been a long time since I've seen a doctor, otherwise you'd already know about that."

 

The tense doctor sighs and relaxes his shoulders, smirking himself. "Okay. Well, let me just tell you about the subject that brought you here."

 

The smirk disappears from Duran's face and he again says nothing. "John, I'm afraid that what we've gotten from these tests on your neck is conclusive, which is good news and bad news. There's no doubting these results."

 

Silence. "That's the good news."

 

"Do I want to hear the bad news?" Duran blurts out, obviously feeling uncomfortable now as he shifts his weight, crinkling the clean paper below him. The doctor can’t seem to find a response, and Duran begins to fear the worst. "How much longer?"

 

The doctor frowns hard. "The next match you have will probably be your last, John."

 

The Notorious One swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "And that's a ‘for sure’ thing?"

 

"Well, unless the SWF reverts to pillow fights, John. And even then..."

 

"Jesus Christ." Duran pushes a hand to his forehead, moving his black hair away from his eyes and looking down at the blue carpeted floor.

 

"With your constant road schedule, there was still an opportunity to come to me to get checked out," the doctor says with a small condescending tone, "but now I'm afraid that neck surgery can only make it worse for you, at least from a wrestling standpoint. I'm afraid you're going to have to wrap things up with one last match and call it a career."

 

"Enough, doc." Duran takes the hand off his forehead and puts it down to his side, lifting himself off the edge of the examining table. Once he lands on his feet, he immediately puts a hand on his neck, grimacing. "I've heard enough."

 

"I'm sorry, John, but you wanted to know...and now you do."

 

By the time that the doctor has finished that final sentence, Duran has already walked past the doctor, opening the door with a click again and quickly pulling it shut behind him.

 

---

 

Now out of the hospital completely and in his rental car driving away from it, John Duran now has a cell phone pressed to his ear. The other line picks up after only a couple of rings.

 

“Commissioner Zenon, it’s me, John, listen--”

 

John is apparently cut off by Alex on the other end.

 

This time, Duran cuts Zenon off. “Forget about it. I’m going to Smarkdown, but not to wrestle. I need to fight somebody at Genesis V--”

 

Zenon cuts him off again, and Duran looks agitated and seems to cut him off.

 

“No. No. I’m going to find the person I need to fight. Not you, Alex.” Duran’s blunt and informal tone doesn’t get a response, because John hangs up the phone before Alex can cut him off again.

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

It should be me; Duran deserves a win over Wildchild before he retires.

[HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0]

Duran vs. Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.