He paces slowly down a dimly lit hallway that runs through the backstage; the lights occasionally flicker in & out. He's wearing one of his entrance jackets; the hood casting strange shadows over his skull-painted face. Taped hands drag along the walls as he walks.
'Haunt.'
Verb.
Transitive: "to visit often - frequent; to continually seek the company of" or "to have a disquieting or harmful effect on - trouble."
Intransitive: "to stay around or persist - linger" or "to appear habitually as a ghost."
He stares directly into the camera, his shoulders slightly hunched. His head occasionally tilts to the side ever so slightly, only to right itself moments later.
Do you know what haunts me, WWF? The past. Choices made, opportunities lost, glory never found.
In the past I held tag team titles. In the past I became a figurehead in Hardcore competition... almost overnight. In the past I innovated & dominated new ways of hurting people; of making them bleed!
It wasn't enough, boys & girls. Not by a long shot! See... somethings missing from that past. Something that should've been there. Something I got screwed out of - heavy ******** metal.
I've come back to collect on this debt. I've come to prove, once & for all, I'm one of the toughest sons of bitches to ever climb in this ring! I came to get a world championship around my waist.
Krymzon Ghost stops; the camera closing in on him. A grim and menacing look comes over his face. His eyes burn fire & brimstone.
I'm not playing around here, people. That belt will be mine. I don't care what it is I have to do; I don't care who it is I have to rip through.
Suddenly, the screen is filled with the sight of a folding chair! The videographer is down, his camera lying next to him with his legs in frame. The frame tumbles and spins; filling with Krymzon's face again - as he now holds the camera.
His hood has been thrown back off his head. His painted face is contorted with vehemence and rage. His eyes are wide and wild.
I'm not here to take prisoners. I'm not here to fight for honor. I'm here for a single reason, an irrefutable purpose - solidifying the Legacy of Brutality by way of WWF:G's Undisputed Championship!
The frame again tumbles as it hits the ground; bouncing around a bit before coming to rest. Krymzon Ghost is gone from the picture. And again, we see the limp body of the cameraman. Slowly, he's dragged off screen. The technician's bloodied face is the final thing seen before the picture fades to static.
Three red numbers ooze into form over the digital snow.
138
