The picture fades into a group of tables and chair in front of a small, discreet cafe front, the sign above it saying Fika Swedish Kitchen. Among the tourists milling about, three towering blond and bearded men stand out like the proverbial sore thumbs, occupying one of the tables, known to some as Christer Lundmark, newly drafted to Hostility, as well as Simon and Viktor Cederbergh, also part of The Shadow's Druids, drawing almost as many looks as the cafe itself. Christer is just closing the small menu and giving the server their order.
Christer Lundmark: Två köttbullar med potatismos, en laxplatta och tre öl. Tack. (Two meatballs with mashed potatoes, one salmon platter and three beer. Thank you.)
As the server scurries away, he turns to the Cederbergh twins.
Viktor Cederbergh: So how do you feel about being on Hostility now?
Christer: Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?
Simon Cederbergh: No, but doesn't it feel like a step down?
Christer ponders for moment.
Christer: Yes and no. It surely is not as shiny as Evolution, but it is a place to be for now and I'll see what it brings. At least I am back in the ring.
The server returns with the three beers. They raise their glasses.
All together: Skål!
After a healthy swig, Christer continues.
Christer: Any change, any challenge can be the beginning of something great and to be honest, as long as C$J keeps his word there should be no issues.
Simon: Hear, hear.
Viktor: So far he has been a lot of talk, do you think he can walk the walk?
Christer: Time will tell. He surely is ambitious, but he has the advantage that he das CWF to draw from, so he is not just building something out of thin air.
Viktor: Yes, that’s true, I guess. What about that guy, Cyrus Black?
Christer: Pfft, I have no idea. They are supposed to get me some information on him, but so far I have nothing!
Almost as if on cue a group of men comes towards them, most of them looking very hot, with the exception of a large black man, who looks cool as a cucumber.
Simon: Sanford? What are you doing here?
Sanford: Oh, we’re just out and about, as they say here, and someone gave me this to give to you.
He hands over a simple envelope with the Hostility logo on it.
Sanford: I would guess it has the info on your opponent, good luck, we have a kangaroo to catch.
With that he clamps his large hand on Christer’s shoulder, gives him a good shake and with a nod to the Swedes sets off with the rest of the Druids accompanying him.
Simon: Are you going to open it?
Christer: Well yeah, but right now we have something more urgent to take care of!
At this moment the food arrives and the eyes of the three big Swedes light up as they dig in.
North Head, the oddly misnomered southern tip of the Manly peninsula northeast of Sydney. On one side the waters of the Pacific stretch as far as the eye can see, on the other the ferry connecting Manly and Sydney is chugging towards the quays. Christer "Fenrir" Lundmark is leaning against the railing, lost in thought. As the camera man comes closer he slowly turns to face the lens.
Christer Lundmark: Welcome to Hostility, Mr. Black, I hope you will enjoy your stay. Now before you clamour about how difficult it is to prepare for a "mystery draftee", it is not as if you have left behind a particularly distinct footprint - basically anywhere. And you seem to like to keep details about you hidden as well, but I can appreciate that you do what you feel is best to protect your chances to fame here in Hostility.
I am no mystery, I am just a humble man from Sweden that grew up in and around the mines and now is trying to live the American Dream.
Christer: American Dream, yeah, right. There have been times, where I have seriously been wondering, if it comes down to the definition of "dream", but as much as they also call it the Land of Opportunities, THIS is an opportunity here in Hostility to carve my own niche, to ascend and if it means by carving through my opponents, so be it. So now we sit here in Australia and all I have to work off is this.
He holds up a single sheet with two printed lines on it, the Hostility logo on top, and he starts to read.
Christer: Cyrus Black. Hometown unknown.
With a grunt he lowers the sheet and looks back at the camera, shaking his head.
Christer: Seriously? Who is the mystery here? Mr. St. James, as you may have seen in CWF, I do not take surprises like this well. When I was given the papers that I was drafted to Hostility I expected things to be run better than this. I understand that this is still starting up and all, but for all the lofty promises you made, I honestly would have expected more. But that is of no concern right now, but a fish to be fileted at a later time, right now I have to concentrate on you, Cyrus, whoever you may be.
I don't know what your expectations are, but if one of them is to get your first notch in the win column, you might just as well start digging a shallow grave for your hope, because this Northman is ready for whatever the powers that be decide to throw at me, no matter what. If you have any doubts, ask Azrael, if you can find him in whatever hole he is hiding in these days. Or maybe he did manage to ascend somewhere after all, who knows. But if anything his hypocrite ways have taught me one thing - do not give a damn about what they say, but pay attention to what they do. A man's word is worth less than the dirt he stands on, if he does not follow up on it.
He brushes his hair out of his face, whipped forward by the wind shifting.
Christer: Oh, I could go on in great length about how superior I am, how much taller and stronger and everything I am compared to you, Cyrus, but would you believe a word of what I could say anyways? Doubtful. I can, however, promise you one thing, however confident you may be, you will regret the moment you stepped into that ring with me when the twilight of the gods will descend upon you in Ragnarok.
He raises his fist into the cloudless blue Australian sky and yells, making a few elderly tourists jump:
Christer: TIL VALHALL!
As the picture fades to black, one of the Cederberghs can be seen walking up to an elderly couple, apologizing for the sudden scare.
"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."