The viewer hears the sounds of steel clanking of in the distance. Over and over we hear the sounds as the camera scans through the dim lit training grounds of the unknown assailant. As we look at each passing, a sawed off shotgun is noticeable. It leans up in the corner by the exit. The camera continues it's search as we come across the masked man. Today he dresses different. He sports a black pair of mesh shorts and a pair of panty hose over his head. An odd look to say the least but, the many gashes on his body look disgusting as blood clots at each incision. The man's incredible physic can finally be seen as it is as most impressive as ever. His muscles protrude as the veins seem as if they are ready to explode while he repeatedly lifts the fully loaded bar above his head.

"197, 198, 199, 200 ahhhh"

The unknown man carefully sets the bar up onto the rack as he sits up, his face directly in front of the camera. The panty hose leave the man with an intimidating look as the contours of his face can be seen but, not enough to give anything away.

"So Brian, we meet. I see you are still having those god awful nightmares once again. What a shame. They seem so frightening. Too bad that they aren't real. I would love to see those dreams of yours come to life. It would be most interesting to watch how you deal with your own nightmares but, you have to remember that the true nightmare before you is me. I am the one who is going to tear you apart from limb to fucking limb. I am the one who is going to put you through the agony and pain that you so desperately deserve. I suppose you duking it out with the grand harvester is supposed to impress me?"

A smile shows through the panty hose as he pushes up from his seat. He paces around, showing different angles of his body. The fresh wounds and scars only paint a picture of what is to come while the man tries to make sense of the ramifications.

"Am I supposed to be scared that you can land the special delivery on some roided up man beast in a bar? Shit son, I've beaten the living hell out of that man before you even broke into this business. I tore him apart and he never came back for seconds. Look at you, the weak. He follows you around, taking you through hell and back for months on end. When it was me and him, it didn't even last for a full week. By the time me and him got into the ring it was as good as history. I told you Brian, I told you that I have done everything there is to do. I've beaten all these supposed legends, these supposed icons. I am a fucking icon. I'd love to do nothing more than to rip this mask off and show you who I really am but, I know damn well you would drop out of this match like a flash of light. Don't tempt me. You'll say "Go ahead, I'm not scared." Well trust me, you would be. You would be more scared than you have ever been in your little world that you call a career. As far as Brimstone, lets just say it's another case of the same thing. How many people can say that they've beaten both Brimstone and Necron? Not you, that's for sure."

The figure paces around the room until he finds himself staring at the sawed off shotgun leaning in the corner. He slowly reaches for it as he brings it up to the audiences view. He looks at the gun mesmerized as he slowly caresses the barrel.

"I must admit something Brian. Your promos sure have some nice special effects. Tell me, how is it that hundreds of rounds from the police would not go into that leather faces creatures body but, one single shot from your Remington did the trick? Is that supposed to make you look tough? If it is then goody. I don't think you're tough. The only thing brutal and replusive that comes from your promos are in your dreams and from people that I've already notched a win in the record books over. But, I must say. I see they've already weakened you. I heard all those cracks when Necron was stomping into your ribs."

The masked man sets down the gun into its place as he picks up an aluminum baseball bat with plenty of dings and scratches in it. This bat is obviously not used for baseball.

"What is it four, maybe five cracked ribs Brian? That's going to limit your ability at Malice. I might even have to go and break some more. How does that sound? Yeah that's what I thought. You know what is going to happen before it really happens, isn't that right? Well what is gonna happen when you meet me in the ring on Malice? Are you going to beat me up? Are you going to advance in King Karnage? Don't be so sure. You can't see the future, it's only butterflies in your stomach. It is what happens to all of them when they go up against the great one. But, don't worry my good pal. Malice is a few days away. Gives you plenty of days to enjoy your last few breathes. As far as Angel is concerned, don't be so sure."

A sick laugh echoes through out the room as the masked man twirls the bat around as if taunting the extreme legend.

"Why did you let her goto Toronto? She might come back with SARS! Then she may infect you. Wouldn't that be a pity? Then you wouldn't be able to compete now would you? But, lets not hope that happens. We want you to be as close to top form as you can be. We don't want any excuses when we fail at Malice do we?"

The man cracks the baseball bat into the camera lens as the screen goes blank except the echoing laugh of the unknown man.