“Good evening everyone!”

A camera switches into life and the first image that greets the viewer is the warm smile belonging to rookie Brandon Eagle. Sitting about three feet from the camera in jeans and a jumper with his arms folded, he continues looking into the camera with a genuinely friendly air about him. A pair of sunglasses is folded around his neck, but these little details can do nothing to hide the huge contrast between his unimaginative clothing and the brightly painted wall behind him. A variety of colours almost take the attention away from Brandon as he sits on the unfolded steel chair, but a quick grin from Eagle puts all eyes on him once more.

“So my name is Brandon Eagle- although you probably already know this- and I thought I’d record this video for everybody at my fan site: though I must admit I’m surprised one exists.”

Eagle twirls his thumbs around the other innocently, and looks up once more before continuing.

“I guess you could say I’ve come a long way in a short time.”

A subtle cough.

“I guess you could say that I’m starting to achieve my dream. A year ago I thought I would never be a roster member of the World Wrestling Alliance, but I hope my achievements can act as a motivator for everybody who thinks their dreams are fading.”

Eagle looks to be feeling the heat of the dingy little garage in which he sits, pulling his plain white t-shirt back and forth to allow some colder air into his chest. He breathes in before exhaling deeply, and continuing once more.

“I’ve got to be honest with all you early Brandon Eagle fans- as an aside, I never thought I’d have my own fans! But it’s intimidating here in the WWA. I’m surrounded by, and wrestling, the people that were my idols four months ago. There’s a lot of talent here I never thought I’d compare to. But I’m here to make the best shot of it I can against some arguable legends. People that have achieved so much in their careers that I can only dream of achieving…people like Shaman.”

The mention of his next opponent almost seems to bring about a look of guilt in the eyes of Brandon Eagle. He scratches the side of his head thoughtfully, before smiling openly and warmly once again.

“I’d like this to be my public recognition of Shaman’s respect.”

Eagle brings himself closer to the camera by awkwardly dragging his chair, starting to directly address the man in question.

“I respect you, Shaman. I respect what you’ve done here in the WWA, I respect the titles you’ve won and the people you’ve managed to beat. Hell, I respect the fact that you’ve been here long enough for me to remember watching you as a youngster! But some things can’t be changed.”

His smile goes somewhat serious for a moment.

“I am a natural winner.”

He stands up and the only remaining part of his being still visible on the camera is the middle of his legs. He turns around and faces the optimistically coloured wall, his hands held together behind his back is he remains perused in thought.

“I could be put in a match with the Dalai Lama and I would have no hesitation in sending his ass to the mat. There is nothing disrespectful about my wanting to beat you convincingly on Monday. I want to win to send a message before my TV title match. I want to win to send a message to the fans that have showed loyalty to me already, and to convince the fans who have thus far failed to do so. If you were to win, I could accept that I lost to a more experienced man. But if I were to win, I could not apologise.”

He pulls his chair back to its usual position, and speaks to the fans once again.

“This next one is for you. If I can beat Shaman and the others with the help of McMirra and Curzon, it’ll be one more step along the road I want to travel. I hope it convinces you all that we can make things happen. Half the battle is thinking you can do it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…”

He sniffs, before standing up to turn off the camera. As the screen fades to black, one more sentence is heard just audibly from the rookie’s mouth.

“The world will love and fear Brandon Eagle.”