The camera opens up on a shot of the woods in the winter morning, the sky already a soft bright blue, the trees barred from their leaves as they pile up with bright white snow. The snow's shimmer is one that rivals even the sun in this light. In the distance, sharp and harsh breaking cracks are heard. The camera cuts to a zoomed in piece of firewood, standing upright before being split directly in half with a woodsman's ax. The camera slowly tracks up the torso of the wielder before focusing on Vega, donning his trademark shades and Letterman.

"When history witnesses a great change, Razgriz reveals itself..."

Another piece of wood is placed on the chopping block before being smashed right in half in a single swipe.

"First as a dark demon."

Vega casually places the ax against his shoulder, standing a bit taller as he takes a deep breath.

"As a demon, it uses its power to rain death upon the land... and then it dies."

He places the ax, head down, on the chopping block. Vega carefully and menacingly leans against it, his visage much closer to the camera than before. His gaze is cold and heartless, felt even through the obstruction from his sunglasses. He stares off silently for a few seconds before chuckling.

"I'm just fucking with you, Nixon. That's a legend from a Video Game."

He slumps back, taking the ax in hand as it lazily droops by his side. He waves his head side to side, a sharp crack could be heard as he does so.

"It's cool as shit though, it goes on to say: However, after a period of slumber, Razgriz returns, this time, as a great hero. Now, that's really something, friend."

He slightly tosses up his ax, twirling it in front of his chest and catching it without any struggle. He looks down for a moment, appearing to examine the tool in his hand. He looks back up, his face twisting with a smug expression. His eyes could be felt narrowing behind the dark shades upon his visage.

"You... lost last week... Not only that, you lost the Television title. Now, I don't know about you, that's a pretty damn big change. Hey, it happens! You win some, you lose some, all that shit."

He lowers the ax once more grabbing at something off screen behind him. It was a cigar, already lit, implied to have been partially-smoked before the cameras rolled. He placed it in his hand and, using his neck, gestured to the camera to follow him. He began to walk down the snowy trail, swinging the ax back up to rest on his shoulder. He took a few puffs from the cigar that dangled freely from his mouth before half turning his head towards the camera, using his free hand to remove the cigar from his lips.

"You losing is a fact just as much as me winning last week is. You look like a man of facts more than a man of faith, I must say. It's a shame you'd rather have faith in yourself instead of faith in other things that may lead to..."

He stopped and placed the cigar back in his mouth before hastily swinging at a tree beside him. He gave one good chop and left the ax wedged in, sliding his hands against each other. He puffed once more before removing it form his mouth.

"Survival... You see, I don't give a damn if you chose to let my message go in one ear and out the other, cause I'll tell you: My words are NOT as hard as my hits, Nixon."

He pushed his foot against the tree before pulling the wedged ax out with little effort. He took another good swing at the tree, almost cutting clean through. He left the ax in once more, repeating the routine of puffing his cigar before turning to the camera fully. He even lowered his shades, revealing the haunting white eyes behind them. The pine teetered behind him. Seemingly unrelated to that fact, so he began talking much faster than before.

"I'm swimming with the sharks now, is what you said?" He asked before giving a hearty chuckle. "Thomas, if all the sharks on here are squirms like you, I'll be swimming through the sharks. I'll establish myself as the apex predator just as easily as I can fell nature. Like-"

He didn't even look back at the tree before ramming his shoulder into it. It took two good bashes to cause the little bit of support that was left by the ax to shatter as the tree began to fall away from the camera and Vega. He grabbed the ax and walked back slowly, watching his handiwork. As the tree made contact with the ground, he fully removed his sunglasses and turned back to the camera.

"So. You can choose to believe or not to believe that I am what I am. I can't change that. But what you have no "paths" to choose from in is this: I will rip you apart in that very ring come Saturday. You can't weasel and squirrel your way from a living apocalypse especially when you pissed it off by claiming to be able to best it."

He tossed his ax aside, rotating the shoulder he used to bash the tree down to relieve a little bit of the ache that came from it. He gave a deep exhale.

"When history witnesses a great change, Razgriz reveals itself, first as a dark demon. As a demon, it uses its power to rain death upon the land and then it dies."

"History's great change came when you lost that match for the Television Title. Now, I reveal myself as your Razgriz and trust me when I say this, Nixon:"

He approached the camera until only his face is in frame, his white eyes seeming to pierce through the screen.

"I haven't even started to rain death upon the land... and I'm sure as hell not ready to die."

Vega backed away from the camera, his arms stretched out to his side with a menacing grin. He lowered himself to pick up his ax and quickly raise it high into the air, expelling an air of victory. He let his arms drop down lazily. He went on to call out towards the camera.

"You go ahead and worry about the belt, I'm sure it'll look GREAT on you along with your full-body cast! I'll be here, getting ready to eat my next victim alive..."