Ophelia is wearing a pin-stripe suit, and a black bowler, carrying a tommy gun, walking slowly down the alleyway. He speaks while walking.

"McBride, anybody can be a gangster. Not a hard trade to break into. Anybody with a gun and a penchant for drug trafficking can make a king pin out of themselves. You're nothing special McBride. If you were strapped with cement shoes and dropped in the ocean, there would be another you by tomorrow morning. You're run of the mill at best."

Ophelia walks up to a wall with a movie poster for 'ScarFace', 'GoodFellas' and 'GodFather'.

"I don't really have much to say about you, because you had nothing to say about the match. But I'll say this one thing-- you're a decent wrestler. What you do night in, night out? You're good at. But you're not the best, neither am I.... yet. You've been doing this for a while, and I've already learned enough to say I'm approaching your level, if not already surpassing it."

Ophelia leans against the wall, and crosses the tommy over his chest.

"Your girl... she's a gorgeous 'lass'. It'd be a shame if anything happened to her. Maybe I should gather all the families and gangs you've wronged over the yeras, and have them obliterate your fine little lady into a delicious little guacamole. She'd taste great with a few frito lay chips, wouldn't you say? The boys back home call me Icarus Jinx. I come from Irish breeding, ad if you tamper with me, lad? You'll regret it. See you soon, Mr. McBride."

Ophelia walks off camera, before gun shots ring out like a bell, and bullet holes are embedded in the posters, displaying the word 'TRUTH'.

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