The scene fades in on the primary backstage corridor leading to the arena, several minutes after the explosive conclusion of that night's aptly named 'Havoc'. The sound of the arena crowds can be heard in the background, interjected by howls of pain and curses from both the various HWA wrestlers involved in the fracas at the end, and the security trying to separate them.

The camera is jostled from behind, and pushed towards the left hand wall, as several more burly security men rush towards the melee. Following the security men, the camera passes technicians moving in the opposite direction clutching various items of importance; cameras, sound boards and the like, as well as several EMT's dealing with some of the more unfortunate security staff, stretchering them away, or dealing with them on the ground as necessary.

As the corridor branches right to lead through the Havoctron, the camera comes to a halt, as swivels 180 degrees, bringing into view Heinrich von Richtoven, blood slicked hair from the cuts on his forehead, and flourishing bruises on his cheeks and jaw giving him a dark, maniac air around him as he pushes past the camera, showing a glimpse of his heavily bandaged arm as he does so.

A slight scuffle occurs as two of the EMT's react to Heinrich's presence in the corridor by bodily blocking his path to the melee involving his brother.

(Heinrich): You want to get out of my way.

(EMT 1): Sorry Heinrich, we can't let you past.

(Heinrich): Last chance.

He gestures at one of the unconscious security guards laid out on the floor that the EMT's were dealing with.

(Heinrich): Or you join them on the floor.

(EMT 2): Doctor Paulson's made it clear you're to be at to Palo Verde Hospital to have that arm of yours checked out, not wandering the corridors.

(Heinrich): Doctor Paulson and I had a difference of opinion.

Heinrich takes a step forward, only for the two EMT's to brace themselves. A frustrated sound comes from the back of Heinrich's throat, as he gestures towards the entrance to the arena, and the carnage beyond.

(Heinrich): Look. My brother's out there.

The EMT’s expressions soften somewhat, as their eyes flicker sideways at each other briefly, they stance relaxing.

(Heinrich): You have family I’m sure. You’d do anything for them, am I right? Come on guys, just let me throu…

Heinrich’s pleading ceases, as five battered and dishevelled security men manage to drag his brother through the Havoctron, and into the corridor. Spitting insults and struggling against their grip, Hans’ attention is fixed firmly on the other members of the roster off-camera still to be separated.

The two EMT’s part, allowing Heinrich to walk towards his brother.

(Heinrich): Oi! Hans. Cool it.

Both Hans’ and the security’s eyes fall upon Heinrich, the former ceasing his struggles.

(Heinrich): Let him go guys, I’ll take care of him.

The sceptical expression the security men give the injured German says it all, but nevertheless, they relent, slackening their grip, as Hans brushes them off. Theatrically brushing himself off, Hans takes a few steps towards his brother, before angling his body as if making a dash for the ruckus still on-going. The reaction from the security is instant, but pointless, as Hans grunts in amusement, teeth set, and continues towards his brother instead.

(Heinrich): You ok brother?

Hans places his right arm over his brother’s shoulder, nodding as he does so.

(Hans): Yeah, I’m ok.

A flash of realization crosses his eyes.

(Hans): Mind telling me why you’re not at the hospital getting that arm of yours checked out?

(Heinrich): Pfft. Like I was going to allow myself to be fawned over by some good looking nurses without seeing how you fared against the ‘Three Stooges’.

Hans chuckles in amusement, slapping his brothers back affectionately.

(Heinrich): Give a good account of yourself?

(Hans): It’s me. Course I did. *Laughs* They’ll be thinking twice before going in when it’s three on four in future though, that’s for sure.

(Heinrich): I didn’t see any of the other six come out before you. What happened?

(Hans): I made the mistake of getting distracted into focusing on just one of them. You know how it is, you’re ramming a guys head into the steel steps, and before you know it, you’re being bodily dragged backwards by seven guys.

Heinrich interrupts.

(Heinrich): Five guys. I saw five guys.

(Hans): And the other two will be along in due course once the EMT’s have seen to them.

He spits a bloody mouthful onto the floor, massaging his jaw with his free hand.

(Hans): Senester’s goons. Deserved it.

(Heinrich): You sure they were? Seemed no different to your average security we see every show.

(Hans): Since when does your ‘average’ security carry batons backstage, and aim for the head?

(Heinrich): Point taken. Well, I hope you managed to lay into Butch as well as I did…

Heinrich’s tongue pokes into his left cheek, as the corners of his mouth arch upwards.

Hans’ eyes roll up in response.

(Hans): Heh, I’m not going to hear the end of that, am I?

(Heinrich): Not a chance. Not until you, oh I don’t know, get a win over him yourself…

(Hans): I technically do. That ta…

(Heinrich): Doesn’t count. You weren’t the one to pin him.

(Hans): It doesn’t count in your eyes.

The brothers share another laugh.

(Hans): Still, let’s not waste any more time and get that arm seen to.

The brothers walk off camera, as the sound of scuffles break into the corridor once more as the wrestler’s are broken apart by the security.

The scene fades to black.