Posters. Figurines. T-shirts. Ripped. Disfigured. Mutilated.
Merchandise all of the same lime green person. Wrinkled face, forlorn gaze, katana with a machine hilt.
Paper ripped. Plastic heads torn off. Cloth shredded.
And in the middle of it all, a dark gray wreck pulling a dagger from a photo on the wall. Facing away, his low, gravelly tone reached across the room.
"I'm Ragerrai, and take a wild guess why I'm here."
He stabbed the picture again and yanked the dagger down, splitting it down the middle.
"That squirrely sack of shit isn't going to humiliate me again. And I know Alfa's gonna be there. He's always wherever RHG is because he's 'the champ' and 'the king', right?" He asked, putting a sneer on the titles. "Well not for long. I'm gonna knock that crown off his shriveled little forehead."
Brandishing another dagger, he fidgeted with them as he spoke. "Not to mention I'm packing a few new surprises this time. Modified my weapons in a way he'll be, mmm, let's say 'familiar with'."
Pressing a button on one of the daggers, he turned to a dartboard with Alfa's face taped on and threw the weapon. A purplish trail blazing from its handle, it screamed through the air and struck the target dead-on. All the other darts scattered on impact.
"We'll see how he likes that…" Ragerrai left for the target. "...And you know what? Even if he doesn't show up, I'll be fine with that too." He pulled the dagger out. "Because that'll just mean he was too chicken to show up. Either way, I win."
Finally he sat back down in front of the camera, exhibiting a nasty burn down his chest and part of his face.
"You hear that? The new king's coming."
Tape end.