The scene opens out onto a small studio set up inside the McKale Center. Standing in front of a black backdrop emblazoned with the HWA logo is Heinrich von Richtoven, dressed casually in a pair of Red Herring branded jeans, his new official HWA t-shirt; a stylized rendering of him delivering a kick to a heart, splitting it in two, with ‘Heinrich “Herzensbrecher” von Richtoven’ underneath. A pair of white Converse All Stars top off the look.

The camera focuses on him, as several photographers move around, taking shots that will go for the latest edition of the HWA Magazine, as well as other promotional needs. At ease under the circumstances, Heinrich follows their requests without complaint, allowing them to finish quickly.

He speaks animatedly with a few of them briefly, before making his excuses, and walking over to the camera.

(Heinrich): Quick promo guys?

He obviously gets his response, as he smoothes the faint creases in his top, and moves into a position where the background isn’t filled with HWA employees. He mutters something off camera to the crew, smiling, before turning his attention on the screen, and beginning.

(Heinrich): So Butch. You’re not a changed man? I’d be inclined to believe that in some respects. Your inability to react to criticism is exactly the same as it was before you strapped that collar around your neck and handed Senester the lead. Only it’s not walls and pieces of furniture that have to suffer your fists these days now, is it?

The knowing look he has in his eyes says it all.

(Heinrich): I look back, and reminisce on the many times that your little script has been acted out, and I miss those days. I really do. You’d be doing your thing; someone would throw a comment your way about it, or perhaps a punch, maybe the two combined. .Your hackles would raise and you’d invoke some line that would reinforce your stance. They’d then ignore you, utterly, leaving you with bloodied knuckles and a need for a handyman to come in and undo the damage to whatever room you happened to be in at the time.

A faint smile ghosts across his face as he reminisces on those memories.

(Heinrich): But then, those were the days that the only thing that ever really got raised on camera against women was your voice…

He raises up his right hand to chest height, and waggles his index finger at the camera, leaning in slightly as his eyes narrow somewhat imperceptibly.

(Heinrich): Now I’m going to call you out on this one, because were it not for the fact that my brother was in a cage, and I was backstage getting my injuries looked at by the doctor, I’d hazard a guess that you’d not have touched Vanessa, regardless of whether you had Senester pushing your buttons or not. So when neither of us are in the positions we were in there, I seriously doubt you’ll be ‘personally guaranteeing’ that Jason will suffer anything. Funny that your little line about what Jason might moan about, sounds exactly like the sort of thing that used to get your back up when it was aimed at you. You know, back when you didn’t beat women…

He leans back out, crossing his arms across his chest.

(Heinrich): Now whether you’re a changed man or not, I’m pleased to hear that you’ll be dealing with me in a professional manner. So, going by what happened in your match with Buff, I expect I’ll be having to deal with cheap shots aimed at my groin, chairs being aimed at my head, and kendo sticks being flung around like a re-enactment of Agincourt. No?

The dryness of his tone begins to be replaced with one of irritation.

(Heinrich): I do take issue with the ‘I’m not a hard man to find’ line you came out with though Butch, because you most certainly are. Much like sometimes it’s hard to see the wood for the trees; it’s hard to find you in amongst all those Dark Horse employees and guards that surround you at every waking moment when you’re not in the arena proper. As for phoning you? Pah, don’t get me started on the futility of that.

A loud bang sounds from off-camera, drawing Heinrich’s attention momentarily, as he ascertains the source of the sound. Satisfied with the lack of commotion about it, he continues.

(Heinrich): One thing I did appreciate you bringing up though, is that ‘living hell’ line. Quite apt, considering what’s in store for you. We’ve got the caustic remarks from Jason and Vanessa done pat, but that’s merely mental. We need the physical aspect. We need you to look in that fetching selection of mirrors aboard that yacht of Senester’s when you’re heading down into the bowels of it to beat on some other poor defenceless individual, and see what happens when you try to do such things when there are people around who are willing to stand up and take issue.

He smiles serenely.

(Heinrich): I’ll see you at Havoc Butch.

The scene fades to black.