Nathan: "Less than a minute. Probably no more than thirty seconds. All I needed was thirty seconds and I might have become International Champion. To put it blunty I got screwed.I ain;'t gonna bitch and moan though, I will get a rematch, let alone a shot at two other titles come Retribution. And my first obstacle is the High Roller's own, Michael Synclaire"
(Nathan walks off the street and into a quiet bar. He walks in through the double dors and sits himself down in a corner on a red leather seating arrangement. The bar itself is empty, only a few people scattered abut the place. The bartender is laid back, paying no attention to anybody, and watching a TV set mounted on a bracket on the wall. It is a sports channel, playing the end of a hockey match. After the match is finished Nathan gets up and goes to the bar. He stands at the bar for a few moments before the bartender even notices anybody else in the room. He looks down the bar and spots Nathan. He walks over to him)
Bartender: "What can I get you boss?"
(Nathan ponders for a moment as the bartender stands there, leaning on the bar. Nathan looks over the spirits across the back shelf, before he spots what he wants)
Nathan: "Gimme a Southern Comfort and coke, no ice"
(Nathan reaches into his left hand pocket and pulls out a leather wallet. He pull out a $5 bill and places it on the counter as the bartender gets the drink. The TV flashes up with the ULW logo as Michael Synclaire's letest piece play. Nathan watches with intent as Snclaire talks about his chance to become a Triple Champion at Retribution. The last image is of a red bikini, which causes Nathan to let a smile cross his face. Then an advert for Annihilation's Main Event appears, Nathan Creed versus Michael Synclaire in the Euorpean tournament, and again a smile crosses Nathans face. The bartender just stansds in awe, realising who the man at the bar actually is)
Bartender: "Your...your...Nathan Creed! Your facing Mchael Synclaire this week! Your in my bar ordering a Southern Comfort and coke! Oh my god!"
(Nathan groans to himslef and rolls his eyes. The bartender grabs the drink from the back bar and places it on the table. Nathan moves the $5 bill over to the bartender)
Nathan: "Keep the change"
(The bartender nods, with a huge smile on his face, as he puts the bill in the cash register. He walks back over to where Nathan is standing)
Bartender: "So I sw your match last week...tough luck. I'm sure you will do better at Retribution. I mean assuming you beat Synclaire"
Nathan: "What do you mean assuming? You don't think I can?"
Batender: "No non no! I didn't mean that! I meant that Synclaire is a tough opponent and nothing is really certain.
Nathan: "Well I would be Carefull what you say buddy. I ain't exactly in the greatest of moods, especially not after I got my head bashed in by Cortez. The High Roller's are on Anihilation, but personaly I don't care. It just means that each member needs help to win the vital matches. Personaly I only have a problem with one member of the High Rolers, Hunter, and I will deal with him when I get the chance. This week however, I have to face one of his stable mates, Michael Synclaire"
(Nathan grabs his drink and takes a sip before placing it back on the counter. The brtender seems deeply engrossed in what Nathan has to say, as are few of the customers. Nathan continues, if only to satisfy the gathering crowd)
Nathan: "Now based in what he has just said he has jut made the same mistake that everybody makes with me, he underestimated me. Not only that but he also got my game plan wrong. I dn't rely on brute strength, I am a technical wrestler, just like him. For all of his claims, he hasn't faced me yet, and he sure as hell hasn't beaten me yet. So I am left wondering why he thinks I am some sort of muscle brained freak tht only knows how to throw punches and kicks. I cn do so much more. I can turn a buldog into a german suplex, a clothsline into an armbar., and I can do it in the blink of an eye. I can slap on a submission move and make you scream in pain, yet Synclainre thinks I have no knowledge outide of my technical arsenal. This comes from the self proclaimed Millionaire Playboy. I think he is a few cents short of a dollar. He can keep all his fancy clothes, and cars, and houses, and women, because to be honest I couldn't care less about money. I just ain't that materialistic"
(Nathn takes another sip of his drink, the crowd still hanging on his every word)
Nathan: "No matter what I say or do Synclaire will still think he is better. Johnson said the same thing and I would have beaten him if the time hadn't run out. That has got to make him wonder what he has to do to beat me. He talks about me using my brains to beat him, and I already am. He doesn' realise that I am 100% focussed on the match in hand, but only once that bell rings. Whn it does my true talent can show through. All I say, or do, outside of the ring is only wors and mean little to nothing iside that ring, apartfrom installing a sense of fear or intimidation into my opponent. Thinking back to it even my journey here to this stage was more difficult than Synclaire may proclaim. I was placed in a triple threat match, whereas Synclaire was laced in a ingles match. In singles matches if you lose it is because you got pinned, whereas in triple threat you don't even have to be pinned to lose. So now Synclaire has the opportunity to face me one on one, and I relish the chance to show him what I am all about.I made a promise to my girlfriend that I would win this titlefor her. For everything we have been through in the past few months, and I don't plan on breaking any promises.Synclaire will have a task on hi hands this week. Not all the money n the world can help him, nor can all his friends"
(Nathan finishes up his drink, the crowd unusually quiet. He gets up and the crowd just watch him walk away from them as he walks back onto the streets, stopping at the doorway)
Nathan: "Thnks for the drink. No offence, but this was just a Courtesy Call"
(With that Nathan leaves, the crowd wondering what exactly hppened, not used to seeing sports stars. Eventully someone else orders a drink, bringing the bartender out of his daze and back to work as the scene fades)
