The camera moves down a hotel corridor, in pursuit of a young CWF employee, who looks somewhat nervous. As she slows down in front of one of the many doors, she steadies herself and takes a deep breath before knocking. After a few moments the towering figure of Christer Lundmark opens the door, looking down at the young lady, standing one and a half feet taller than her.
The young lady looks tremendously nervous now, fumbling for words.
Lady: I--uh, my name is-- I am here, because--
He raises his hand and she involuntarily takes a small step back, but the Swede holds it up as a gesture of peace and then slowly brings it down to touch her shoulder. When he speaks, his deep voice shows more empathy than expected.
Christer: Calm down, take a breath, refocus.
Still wide eyed she follows his instructions and indeed seems to be calming down. Finally he removes his hand and looks at her expectantly. After one more deep breath she starts to speak, flying through her part without stopping or even breathing...
Lady: OK, my name is Jeannette Pavard and I am a production assistant with CWF I was sent here to let you know about your match for the show and you are being teamed up with Azrael against V.E.N.O.M. in a qualifying match for the Northern Crown tournament thank you very much and good night.
And with that she turns on her heel and hurries down the corridor, leaving an incredulous Christer Lundmark behind.
The picture returns to a pub in Edmonton, the sign above the door saying “Three Vikings”. The camera pushes through the door and finds the long figure of Christer Lundmark at a table in the corner, a bottle of beer in front of him. As he spies the camera crew, he briefly closes his eyes and hangs his head a bit, but then motions them over, offering them a chair across from him.
Christer: Who would have thought that in a godforsaken town like Edmonton you could find decent beer!
He raises the bottle.
Christer: Kallholmen Levende Ale, Living Ale, right out of Skellefteå. But I am sure that you did not come here to hear me talk about öl… No, not oil, öl means beer in Swedish…
He sighs and takes a swig from the bottle.
Christer: I guess you want to hear about the match against V.E.N.O.M., with--
He closes his eyes again and shakes his head.
Christer: Azrael. You really want to hear what I think about this? Do you really?
At this point he realizes that his voice has been carrying through the pub and he raises his hand apologetically before lowering his voice.
Christer: It is skitsnack. Or how do you call it here? Bullshit. When I find out who booked this match, he better have a good insurance, because I am not done with him. How can they expect me to team up with this… Look at him! He goes to great lengths to tell me that if I feel the need to win, he will lay down and take the loss! What kind of fighter is this? You can’t tell me that he has his heart in this!?
He takes another swig.
Christer: I will have a better chance to just throw him out of the ring before the match, so I at least know that he will not do anything stupid! Ugh, what kind of tag team match is this, where I almost have to worry more about my “partner” than my opponents? Azrael, I can tell you one thing. The moment you seem to be doing something stupid, the moment that Brother Love comes through and tries to hug the opponent into submission, I will take you out, do you understand?
A bearded man, who seems to be the owner of the bar comes over.
Finn Mollegaard-Laugesen: Christer, kan du venligst holde det nede? Folk bliver lidt, uh, nervøse.
Christer: Jag är ledsen, Finn, jag ska försöka. Kan jag få en annan Kallholmen, snälla?
Finn gives Christer a tap on the shoulder and leaves to get him another beer.
Christer: I’m sorry, Finn asked me to keep it down. Where was I? Ah yes. Azrael. I hope you understand the gravity of this situation. Keep your peace, love and happiness bullshit to yourself.
Finn brings the second beer.
After another sip from the bottle, Christer refocuses.
Christer: Now V.E.N.O.M. I don’t know what freakshow circus you guys escaped from, but you have a serious problem. What is it? A master and slave femdom fantasy gone bad? Escaped from a lab for infectious diseases and now out to spread the wealth? Or the beginning of the zombie apocalypse? Looks like Nina is the brains and your two pet dogs are the brawn.
He shakes his head again.
Christer: You talk about if people will lay down and die or if the fight. Well, I can’t speak about me, uh, partner, but I will do the hell and lay down, a Viking does not back down from a fight and you are not going to change that! Bring your chaos, bring your disease, bring your destruction and madness, I will be the rock in the sea, I will be the antivenom to your little spiderlings and your whips and chains don’t scare me.
So you beat up the Danger Boiz, big whoop, sneaking up on them in the dark and surprising them? I will at least look you right in the eye before I smash your skulls. Maybe I can knock some sense into you. I’m not sure what your plans are, world domination or taking over the CWF? Or are you just happy to freak people out and hurt them?
He pauses for a moment, bridges the silence with another swig from the bottle and then continues.
Christer: I don’t know. What am I supposed to tell you that my partner hasn’t already pre-emptively emasculated? You do not belong in a wrestling ring, you belong into a roundhouse, where you can try to find a corner to stand in. Am I going to take you lightly? Hell no, the weirder they come, the harder they will go down and stay down.
He motions the camera to come closer.
Christer: V.E.N.O.M., you want people to be afraid of you, that’s why you keep yapping about chaos and destruction, the chains, the mask and all. I am a proud warrior and when the odds are stacked against me, I will not back down. You may have seen a lot in your lives, but trust me, you are not ready for the berzerker rage that will be unleashed on you at Evolution.
He stands up, raises his fist into the air and yells.
Christer: TIL VALHALL!
And suddenly the whole pub gets to their feet, raise their fists up and repeat.
A smile creeps onto Christer’s face and he gives a nod of appreciation as he looks around before the picture fades.
"The concession stands are now selling those cheap hotel room round soap disks that I have personally blessed for $100’s a bar….AND SINNERS….I suggest you buy one, and use it, because if you think your God wants you in his heaven smelling like a 3am New York City uber ride you got another thing coming."