It's a rain soaked night.

Y'know, wherever this is.

All we can see is a circular carving of cobblestones illuminated by a lonely streetlamp and the sound of boots approaching, with single minded purpose and rhythm. The massive form crouches near the light once he gets close enough, as if he's afraid to step into it...and then does. Silencing his fear as immediately as it makes itself known to him. Erik Holland is here, and he is as usual none too happy.

Lord Raab. First of all, get a cleanin' crew or somethin', man. I don't know what the deal is with the slime, but you gotta get that looked at..

Erik dismissively waves away those thoughts as he shuts his eyes tight. He doesn't look much better for wear given the carnage he's been through on his trek up the West Coast. Could he still be there? Could he be here? COULD HE BE BEHIND YOU??

Nah, he's still here, glowering at the camera, snarling.

Tables match, huh? XWF Anarchy. And I heard a lot of begging, Raab, but it wasn't the type of begging I have come to expect. You beg me for violence. You want me to make you bleed, to make you suffer, purely because youre aware of my reputation. I guess maybe it precedes me. But I gotta wonder, Raab, do you really know what you're asking for from a legitimately violent man? And especially that man who understands and respects the toll violence takes on a body? On a,...hahaha...mind?

Erik Holland shakes his head derisively at the camera.

I don't think so. I don't think you're even close. Because before I committed myself to this, I read a lot on the mental and the physical anguish that giving yourself over to violence entails. And it's not simply there as a means of entertainment, Raab, it's not there so you can beg for it and PLEAD for it, violence exists, and must exist as a means to an end. There's no point to it unless you ACHEIVE something with it. And you want to know what I want to acheive, Raab?

Erik snickers nastily, wiping a hand across his mouth as the steady pitter pat of rain begins to pick up, dotting his leather jacket with wet spots.

...everything.

Erik says this word, this golden word with derision and conviction.

I want to leave the XWF fans feeling like they have never seen anything like me in their lives and never will again. I want them to understand that I live, I breathe, I fight vicariously through and for THEM, and it's MY violence that's going to LIBERATE them, Raab! Liberate them from you, Your Lordship! And as they continue to watch me batter you all over that arena when Anarchy hits the air, they're gonna' be built into a crescendo that's going to wash all that disgusting slime that embodies you...away.

He grips the streetlamp tightly in one of those massive paws of his, the light reflecting off his wild hairdo and casting creepy, distorted, discordant shadows across his scarred face.

They deserve that much. They deserve to lionize a truly violent man, Raab. I'm going to educate you further tomorrow night, my friend. You're not ready for it.