Between matches, the sneering face of the self-proclaimed "Superior One" appeared on the arena titantron, wearing a black hooded jacket and jeans, to a mild backing track of boos provided by an audience, who although unfamiliar with the only recently introduced German, already recognised from his in-ring posture and ever arrogant gait, that he was one who would never be a favourite in their eyes. After letting the boos settle slightly, Wilhelm Seitz raised his microphone to his mouth, before speaking in a German accent, laced with harshness which not only signalled bad intentions, but also a man who meant buisness.

"You may be wondering, who is this wonderful man who has suddenly appeared on your screen? Well, he is, of course, none other, than the Superior One, Wiiiiiilhelm Seeeeitz! If you hadn't heard of me, I will let you off this once, because, soon, it will be impossible to not have heard of me. You see, you cannot simply make wrestlers like me. You cannot train someone to be superior, no... that is a birthright; one which I inherited the day I was born. So you may be thinking what is being superior? Well, to coin an expression you may understand, in a nutshell, it means I am better than you, the person next to you, and every one of my competitors in this organisation. I am a born athlete, I am from the most hard-working country in the world, I can perform more wrestling moves than you can even dream of. You simply cannot buy talent like me! However, talent like me, can, and, in due time, will, dominate any division I decide myself worthy of."

With a the sneer on his face widening, Seitz finishes the last of his poisoned words, before confidently walking away from the camera, proud of his statement of intent.