The scene fades in showing a lovely country scene. At the bottom of some anonymous, tree-filled shallow valley, a stream cuts through the surrounding rock. Sun shines down, birds sing, and things are lovely. In the midst of this postcard in motion is Frost. Dressed in an aqua tank top, khaki shorts, and hiking boots, Frost looks more like she should be about to strap on a pair of pistols and raid some tombs. Instead, she glances at the camera as it zooms in on her.

"Time is an interesting thing," Frost says, the heel of her right boots making a little splash as she strolls at the edge of the stream, "Once upon a time, the mighty Colorado River was a stream much like this. Time, however, allowed it to cut through rock and carve out one of the greatest natural wonders on the planet."

Frost comes to a fallen log. She steps up on it, surveys her surroundings, and nods as if she's found something she was looking for. "In the same manner, I am an unknown quantity. I am only beginning my journey in the XWF, but with time, I will carve out a path of destruction and leave a trail of blood and shattered dreams in my wake so grand that my legacy will be defined by how many titles I've held, but by how many careers I've ended and how many fighters have steered clear of me."

Frost crouches upon the log, and the camera follows the motion until it has her in profile. "It begins on Wednesday Warfare. Vyper, you think that climbing a mountain, any mountain is proper preparation for going against me? The mountain does not think, the mountain does not plan, and the mountain does not take an active role. It is a dead thing that does not strive to prove nor defend itself. There is no attack, no defense, no nothing; it simply is.

"You certainly will not have two aids assisting you on Wednesday," Frost continues as she stands erect once more, "No, you will be alone. You and Salman may look to each other for help, but both of you know that one of you will stab the other in the back at the first chance. Ironic, since that is your only hope for survival!"

Frost glances down and tugs on her previously-unmentioned gloves, unstrapping and restrapping them. "No, climbing a mountain only proves that you can climb a mountain. It doesn't make you any more of a man than you were previously, and it certainly does not make you any more able to withstand the onslaught that's coming your way, Vyper.

"As for you, Salman, you say you want to be a granddaddy? You say, in your broken English, that you and your country were mocked?" Frost laughs out loud, and if it were not so filled with malice, her laugh would be as musical as the sound of the stream she strode beside, "I mock your skills, Salman, and once our match concludes, I'll mock your unconscious body as I stand victorious over both you and Vyper."

Frost reaches down and slowly runs a hand along her left thigh. "Vyper, keep climbing your mountains. You will never assail my slopes," she says, her voice dipping into more of a teasing purr as she motions at her breasts, "and you will never climb my peaks. What you will do is be a stepping stone for your better. The same goes for you, Salman. The both of you will do what my opponents will do best, and that, simply put, is lose. Climb your mountains and hurl your insults, gentlemen. It will not matter."

With that, Frost turns back to the stream and resumes walking at it's side. The scene fades to black.