Shaman burns, twisting and blackening before our very eyes.

Or rather, an image of him burns. We pull back, and see that Jackson Kraven is standing behind a brazier, tossing autogrpahed pictures of the Native American Bad-Ass into the flames.

He's still wearing that cowboy hat.

Gauntlet?

*beep* that, Shaman.

Who would the WWA provide for me to fight?

Bastion, the human hippo?

Inaki Hot-taco, the punchline of a thousand jokes?

"Suicidally Bad" James Thornhill?

Mr *beep*ing Cool?

Those are the only losers big enough to rank alongside you that I can think of.

More pictures go into the fire, pictures of Shaman fighting, and winning, and bleeding, and losing. Lots of pictures, lots of history...

...It all burns the same.

My mind boggles, Shaman, really it does. You sit and you rant about being big, and tough, and a one-man-army... and yet you want a gauntlet match?

Sounds a little... suspect, to me.

A little... cowardly.

But then, that's how you've always been, eh?

Hiding behind other people.

The Militia, The Horsemen... you've always been part of a gang, haven't? Always been part of a tribe.

Kraven grins nastily.

I got under your skin, didn't I?

I brought out the legend.

I reaped the whirlwind, as it were.

I intend, on Meltdown, to show you, and the world, that Jackson Kraven is back, and is ready to embrace the power, and is everything you ever feared.

You say I ran away- *beep* that.

I had a broken *beep*ing ankle, you numb-skull.

Thanks to Tracer *beep*ing Bullet, back in the God-forsaken wilderness that was the GLWF, remember?

Of course you don't remember, but we have to forgive people your age some mental infirmity, some memory loss, now don't we?

You say I needed help to beat you, and that I'll need it again- this is rich coming from the man who needed help from Daniel E Nelson to win the World Heavyweight title, the man who fluked his way to a win at the Independence Day Rumble.

Kraven removes the cowboy hat from his head and looks at it, his eyes hidden by wraparound sunglasses, the flames dancing in the reflection.

You say you're going to win on Monday?

I say you're a *beep*ing idiot, Shaman, and on Meltdown I intend to beat you one-on-one, fair and square...

...Unless you're too *beep*ing chicken, that is.

In the movies, the men wearing these are the good guys.

Guess I won't be needing it any more, eh?

Kraven tosses the hat into the flames and smiles.

See you on Meltdown, you *beep*ing lowlife.

We fade to black.