The scene opens up outside the Broadmoor World Arena in Colorado Springs, Colorado. "The Australian Submission Machine" Nathan Paradine is staring up at the stadium, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his breath fogging in the early morning air. He raises a hand and rubs at the red tip of one ear gingerly, feeling the cold on his bare fingers as he does so.
Nathan Paradine: "Goddamn, but I do hate the cold. Do you know I'd never seen snow before I came to America? I hate the stuff. It's like rain, except about a hundred thousand times worse. Frozen rain, can you imagine that? It's the stuff of nightmares, nobody wants to have to deal with it. That's a trait it has in common with my Hostility opponent this week, Christerr Lundmark. Ahhh, I see you there. I know you think you know where I'm going with this, but I'm not! You probably think I'm going to say nobody wants to deal with it like nobody wants to deal with Lundmark, but that isn't so."
Paradine wiggles his finger knowingly.
Nathan Paradine: "Tut tut, you ought to know me better than that! The reality is, I have very little to say on the subject of Christerr Lundmark since I have already, objectively, beaten him. Just like I said we would, mind you. When it's a sanctioned match in a controlled environment, The Hostile Elite beat The Reason, and then some. How different will the result be when it's Lundmark and I in a one-on-one match? I mean, let's look at the facts."
Paradine holds up one finger.
Nathan Paradine: "Firstly, movesets. I'm an undisputed submission machine. Christerr's techno-viking moves are no match for the elegant, purposeful holds and locks I practice on a damn near nightly basis in that ring. Lacklustre is the only word you can use to describe the limited variety of suplexes he attempts to dish out, while the first thought that comes to mind upon seeing that ridiculous finishing move is mate, you're going to have some serious back problems when you're older."
Paradine holds up a second finger.
Nathan Paradine: Secondly, promo ability. Now I know, I'm not really one to talk but that's mostly because I let my actions speak louder than my words. Christerr... leaves a little bit to be desired. I mean I'm all for going off into nature for a random monologue that ties into my supposed viking heritage, but a bit of fucking variety every now and then might be nice. It's not a good thing that I can load up a Lundmark promo on the CWF website and nine times out of ten pick what it'll be before the video buffers."
Paradine holds up a third finger and smirks.
Nathan Paradine: "Lastly... pure experience. How often does Lundmark even get into the ring these days? Not only am I on every single Hostility show, I wrestle every week on Evolution too. I've been wrestling as long as Christerr Lundmark has been alive, and believe me I do know every single trick in the book and then some. My body is like a well-oiled wrestling machine with one goal in mind; tap or snap, and I'm not particularly fussed which one happens first."
Paradine balls his hand into a fist before shoving it back into his jacket pocket.
Nathan Paradine: "Fuck me, it's cold! Can we end this now so I can go back to bed?"