Onra's 'The Vallee of Love' plays in the background.
The camera fades in, and we see Socrates has finally cleaned himself up a bit, as last time he was sat in a hot-tub with two passed out women. He is now in his fine white suit, in the back of his limousine, looking at some papers. The camera tries to sneak past the paper and see what it reads, but Socrates puts the papers down on his lap and shakes his head.
Nope XWF cameras, sorry but this is not public information. These papers contain my well thought out strategies to obliterate my opponents this coming Monday. I've seen that Khalif Compton is no longer a part of the match. Good. He looks like shit. Right, I'm going to speak about them right now. Jared, a glass of champagne please.
A butler-like man sat opposite Socrates in the limousine pours a glass of Champagne and offers it to Socrates, who takes it into his right hand.
Well it looks the best thing to do, will be to start straight away!
He swirls the Champagne and takes a first sip, before settling down and looking straight at the camera. He picks up the paper into his other hand, and looks at it.
Grayson Stinger. Grayson Stingy sounds about right. Bought up like Paris Hilton, this corporate, paedophilic, briefcase wanker would happily kill his only child. A face like a Socrates wannabe, and a penis shrunken down to only the loose, hanging skin. This threat could only be less threatening if he wore a dildo on his head, because the word dickhead makes me laugh. Your 5 minutes of fame is already up Grayson, with your little ''Something you all need to understand' piece making the whole damn XWF roster hate you. Not a good start Grayson, not at all. Your chances of owning a company like this are lower than mine of hearing a woman's voice. Oh wait, I'm a sex-god. I've got plenty of women!
He laughs and takes a sip of Champagne.
Grayson, you're already done here. Move along, go back to Illumicorp™ or some shit. Make little Chinese kids in sweatshops work their asses off for pennies a day, I couldn't give a fuck! This Monday, you better fight like a man. If you're one of these people who fights in a suit and is stood outside the ring constantly acting like a pussy, I will literally put a leather collar and leash on your ass and make you my bitch! I'm rich enough, and my ass earned it, so if you want any contact with Socrates whatsoever, you're gonna have to earn it.
He takes quite a few larger sips of Champagne this time.
Now. Khalif Compton's gone so there's only one other opponent: Bobby fucking Zi, again. In this triple threat, the only 'threat' in there is me. Bobby Zi thought he controlled me in our tag last week. Aww, what a shame, I wore you down and I won, me! So Bobby, expect that again, another loss for you I'm afraid. If I were you, I'd let me beat Stinger's ass, and then just lay on the mat for a free pin, to save the humiliation of being crushed. You don't have to, but the offer's always there!
He takes the last sip of Champagne left until the glass is empty. He shrugs and puts it down.
On the whole, both of you can scrap it out like two antelope going at each other. But Socrates is a lion, and I'm gonna crush and devour both of you like you're both pieces of meat this Monday.
Bobby, Grayson, you're out of luck.
Socrates picks up his glass and gives it to Jared to refill. He does so and gives it back to Socrates, who stares out of the window sipping at the glass of Champagne, as he looks at the papers one more time.
The camera fades to black.
THIS HAS BEEN APPROVED FOR TRANSLATION FROM GREEK TO
ENGLISH BY THE AUTHORITIES IN CHARGE.
An Insight. (RP#2) -->
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