The crackling of fire. Slowly the blackness fades, giving way to The Shadow, his face illuminated by the flickering light of a torch.
Things are heating up, the first shots have been fired and all that is left to do is the final preparation for our clash in New York.
Gabriel, I am happy that you have confidence in spades, but like I said before, the path between arrogance and confidence is a narrow ledge indeed and you are teetering dangerously close to falling off on the wrong side. You seem to be feeling that this is nothing but a walk in the park for you, that the belt is just yours for the taking, while dragging your own company through the dirt, classy indeed. Your fed probably would stand a better chance sending your clown into the ring. It’s as they say, the higher they come, the harder they fall and I shall provide you with the hard floor of reality to catch you.
Johnny, you’re more the strong silent type, aren’t you? Not very Vegas like, but hey, silent waters run deep. Or maybe they are just stagnant. And kind of greasy. Anyways....
Aiden, out of the whole bunch here you actually are showing humility without losing the edge of your confidence in your abilities. You surprise me, in a positive way. Why? Because this shows that you acknowledge the strengths of the others and that will allow you to stay on guard. Still it will not be enough to stem the deluge of darkness coming your way.
And that leaves us with the fallen “God”? Boy, the Great Dane surely has gone to the dogs, so it seems. And the memory is not the best anymore either, is it? At first you so proudly proclaim that you got fired right after winning the belt, but now you finally admit that you walked away, never to look back again. Well, guess you always meet twice. Has it been reality finally setting in or was it just a slip of the forked tongue of yours?
Running away with the tail tucked between your legs after you laid your hands on the belt does not make you the still reigning champion. Bailing on a fed does not make you undisputed. And hiding in a whorehouse makes it easy to remain unbeaten. You claim to have called in your last favour, your last shot of redemption, this is not about that belt, Eric, this is about you and me, you and CWF, a last shot at the place where you were a cancer backstage, where you had to spend more time avoiding people trying to punch you out than to actually scheme and build your roost.
Revel in your delusions of grandeur, at When Worlds Collide I will show you the mercy others would not give you. In New York I will give you your mercy kill and once and for all put you out of your misery…
Fades to black.