The scene opens out onto the familiar interior view of Hans von Richtoven's apartment. Currently lounging out on one of the leather sofas is Heinrich von Richtoven, attired in a loose fitting pair of jeans, and a thin red zip-up Superdry branded hoody over a grey t-shirt. The bruising around his nose thanks to his match is still clearly visible, although a lightening of colour towards the edges of the bruising has clearly occurred between now, and the last time we saw him.

He lifts up his left hand, a glass of orange juice held in his grasp, and takes a sip from it, settling it back down on the coffee table between the two sofas, before returning his attention towards the large flatscreen mounted on the wall, and placing his left hand back into position on the PS3 controller held all this time in his right.

Still facing forward, as he scans over Hans' list of games, he directs a question off camera.

(Heinrich): Hans. Why do you have Senester as one of your 'friends' on here incidentally?

The camera pans around, revealing Hans von Richtoven to be standing in the kitchen segment of the open plan room, busy preparing lunch. He looks up from shredding some lettuce, and leans forward over the counter in his brother's direction.

(Hans): I didn't catch that sorry, what did you say?

The younger sibling obligingly turns his head around this time.

(Heinrich): You've got Senester as one of your 'friends'… why?

(Hans): Why not…?

He trails off laughing, shrugging his shoulders.

(Heinrich): Alright then, how?

Hans waggles the knife held in his right hand at his brother, as he casts his mind back.

(Hans): Must have been when I went to his office to speak about getting this Lottery started I think…

Drumming the fingers of his left hand on the counter, he carries on speaking.

(Hans): I spotted… oh god… erm… ah, what does it matter. Anyway, I told him to try 'Heavy Rain', and it went from there.

He returns his attention onto the food preparation, looking up briefly though to add…

(Hans): The man's almost unstoppable on 'Killzone' actually.

Eyebrows raised in surprise at this, Heinrich turns back to face the flatscreen, as he navigates the options to shut down the PS3.

(Heinrich): Fair enough…

Placing down the PS3 controller, he picks up his glass of orange juice in one hand, and the TV remote in the other, beginning to flick through the channels.

(Heinrich): What time is Butch going to announce Hogan as the referee?

Another pause in the preparation occurs.

(Hans): Should be on now I think, he said it'd be early on…

(Heinrich): Speak of the devil.

He ceases his button mashing, having come across HWA TV, and the beginning moments of Butch Parker's press meeting.

Sitting in silence, Heinrich watches the scene unfold, smiling broadly at the pandemonium amongst the reporters as Butch announces Hogan as the guest referee. The sound of Hans’ chuckling comes from off-camera as Butch takes his leave from the conference, reporters continuing to hurl questions at him long after he’s moved behind the curtain.

He leans back, as HWA TV cuts from the conference to the HWA Newsroom where Robert Herrington is currently holding court.

(Robert Herrington): And there you have it folks, Butch Parker has announced Hulk Hogan as the guest referee for this Havoc's 8 man tag match. Quite sensational, and certainly controversial given that Hogan is firmly ensconced in the NWO camp. I don't think that Talon, Eddie and company would have gambled on that happening. In fact, let's take the chance to see what they were saying yesterday after a short advertising break, and then we'll take the chance to go over some of the questions that you've been sending into me this past half hour!

The HWA newsroom fades out, replaced by a short promo for American Idol, before the NWO promo begins.

Kicking back on the sofa, Heinrich lounges out, sipping away contently at his orange juice as he watches the three main members of the NWO faction go through their monologues.

(Heinrich): *Dryly* I do love the distinct aroma of bullshit that seems to come from nowhere when it gets to the point where they try to justify their interference in other matches…

With a low sigh, he swivels round, before getting to his feet, and padding across the wooden floor to the dining table, but not before turning off the flatscreen.

(Heinrich): You managed to catch this latest one from the sore losers?

Hans doesn’t look up as he begins to dish out strips of grilled chicken onto the salad.

(Hans): That the one full of ominous threats and posturing? Yeah, I've already seen it. I have to admit, they choose some good scenery in which to do their monologues…

He gazes wistfully out of one of the windows.

(Hans): Makes me want to go for a walk through Central Park after lunch…

Eyes moving back onto his brother, he carries on.

(Hans): You fancy coming along?

(Heinrich): I'll walk you along to the outskirts, but me and Logan are gonna watch some football; we managed to find a bar that's showing the Copa del Rey final… and I think he needs a bit of a distraction right about now anyway…

Hans nods understandingly, sympathy etched in the lines of his face. He disappears out of view for a moment, as the sound of cutlery being rummaged through becomes audible. He reappears a few seconds later wielding three sets of knifes and forks. Walking over to the dining table, he begins to set them out.

(Hans): What time does it kick-off?

(Heinrich): Half three… half four?

He shrugs his shoulders, his tone of voice half apologetic, half dismissive.

(Heinrich): You know I'm terrible when it comes to working out the time zone differences!

(Hans): Don't worry about it; give me a phone when you're there, and me and Vanessa can pop in once we've had our walk. *Laughs* Least you're capable of admitting you can be at fault...

Gesturing up at the flatscreen, he continues.

(Hans): … unlike that lot.

He sets down the last knife and fork, and makes his way back over to the kitchen, and starts to finish up making their lunch.

(Hans): Seriously, not once since they got together have they been able to take a loss on the chin. It's always 'I or you should have', or 'I don't know how so and so did that'…

He turns on the taps, rinsing out the colander, speaking other the sound of the running water, although his words are naturally muffled.

(Hans): 'What if' this, and 'what if' that and 'this shouldn't be'. They seem incapable of admitting that they were outfought, and move on, leaving it in the past…

By this point, Heinrich; who has gotten off the sofa, and moved round to lean on the other side of the counter, looking on as his brother works, quips.

(Heinrich): Much like they should have left the NWO moniker rest.

Chuckling with laughter, Hans shuts off the running taps, and places the colander onto the drying board.

(Hans): Yeah, much like that.

He picks up a small grater, and holds it over the three plates, and goes to work on the parmesan, adding a good amount over each salad.

Unable to resist, Heinrich reaches over the counter, and pinches a crouton from one of the plates, popping it in his mouth and biting down on it with relish, noisily crunching away.

(Hans): Well that's your plate then…

He sets the grater in the sink, and places the remaining parmesan back in the fridge.

The two of them look up as the front door opens, revealing Vanessa Lang, who steps in with an apologetic expression firmly fixed.

(Vanessa): Sorry I’m late honey, Jaqui and Karen…

She stops mid-way across the room, beginning to unbutton her coat, Hans finishing her words for her.

(Hans): Jaqui and Karen wouldn’t stop talking. Yes, I know what they’re like.

He picks up two plates, and as he passes her on-route to the table, gives her a peck on the lips.

(Hans): Anyway, you’re just in time.

The scene slowly fades out to black.