Patch sat in the raw locker room lacing up his boots.
He had both boots on when he was approached by Khali with his translator cowering behind him like a little boy hiding behind his big brother to get away from the school bully.
Patch stood up to his full height (he was face to face with The Great Khali's belly button).
"What the hell do you want fatty." He growled.
Khali took no notice, instead he hit the translator hard on the back and he stumbled forward.
"The Great Khali has agreed to put his number one contender spot on the line tonight... um" the man fidgeted awkwardly, "but he wants to make a speculation... uh ... he wants a tables match."
Patch smiled, he knew that Khali would be stupid enough to put the number one contender spot on the line but to make it a tables match was just rich.
Patch extended an arm to shake on it.
Khali smiled and took the hand and squeezed, then threw him into a steal locker.
Patch did not know what hit him.
The small man knelt down on one knee beside him.
"The other thing is that you have to do it injured." Said the man softly.
Patch felt himself being picked up by the scruff of the neck and was hurtled into his open locker.
Khali took the door of the locker and began opening and closing it on his head.
Patch found his way out countering with a quick hit to the ribs, he began breathing and got to his feet, but he took too long and gave Khali enough time to get a chair and hit him is the head with it.
He heard three familiar voices shouting at Khali with chairs of their own, the other three Dudley boys began pounding at the great Khali.
But there was another voice, a voice he had not heard since he had been a child, a friend of the Dudley boys from the start, someone who taught Patch everything he knew, someone from TNA.
Patch was sure who it was when he heard him crouch over Khali's body and shout;
"Can ya dig that Sucka."
And then Patch blacked out.