Date: April 2nd, 2009
Location: All-Star Arena
Time: Sometime after Courage ended

"I'm out!"

That was the shout of one Max Danger as he very carefully put his tan suit pants back on. You'd think he would be in a rage, and he was, but when it came time to put his suit on he did it delicately. He wasn't about to ruin something that cost same as it probably did to pay all the wrestlers in ACW combined.

"I don't care what you have to say, I'm leaving this place and never coming back! It's no fun here!"

It was only the second show and the Danger Man was already quitting? Never figured him for a quitter. Heck, it was, like, nine years in the business before he ever submitted in a match (to HardCase in Action! Wrestling for those who'd forgotten or never knew or never cared and are being told regardless).

He buttoned up his lavender dress shirt while continuing to ignore the words of whoever else was in the locker room with him and shout his own anger, "I never liked Canada anyway!" (Yes he did.) "Stupid moosi, and mounties, and it's cold, so cold!" (He lived in Maine, not exactly warmer.) "So, I'm outty!"

Max pulled on his tan suit jacket, grabbed his bag off the locker room bench that he had to pick up his own self, and headed for the door that was no longer attached to its hinges.

Suddenly, he stopped at the doorway. He lowered his head slightly, "I'm sorry, but I can't stay. I'm not cut out for this anymore. Just Wrestling was right up my alley. I could work the shows I wanted, not have to strain myself, but stuff like tonight? Four, five years ago, I could do it. I would have been in the middle of the fray, taking on all comers and trying to earn my points. But you saw me tonight, what was that, sneaking around like a ninja?

Sigh."

Danger stood in the dimly lit doorway for a moment.

Then, slowly, with his head still hung, walked away...

...

..."PSYCH!"

And he was back, smirking that smirk as he stood back in the ruined doorway. "Are you kidding me? Tonight was great! I wish I would have thought of this years ago, I probably never would have been in the physical shape I ended up in a few years back."

Max re-entered the locker room looking mighty proud of himself.

"Being a little sneaky chicken-shit has it's advantages." His face suddenly turned sour. "But if it weren't for that frickin' Kelly Masters... GRRR!!!" Yeah, he growled, what of it? Also, he shook his fist angerly in the air in the general direction of where he thought Kelly might be. "Two weeks in a row.... my leg... trapped..."

Max rubbed his leg slightly, the pain still there from Masters devastating heel hook.

"But I'm not leaving this godforsaken place until I have my revenge. And revenge I shall have, Kelly Masters!! Won't we..." Max walked over to the bench he dressed at before, looking to the opposite side of the room, then reached down and picked up... the prosthetic arm, "...Armsy McDanger."

Seriously, "Armsy McDanger"? Max was downright deranged. Talking to a fake limb was one thing, but naming it, too? Wow.