The scene opens up to a magnificent view of the River Thames at night. Though, a tall figure stood in the way of the full view. They seemed to be hundreds of feet high, in a glass capsule, bright blue lights glowing outside of it. The figure had it's hands at his sides, spinning around, revealing itself to be none other than the one, the only, the most beautiful man in the world, Apollo Mars.

He was revealed to be wearing a pair of neon pink, custom made Oakley's, with Apollo engraved on the sides in a dark black. The tint of the lenses, also black. He most certainly didn't need those shades in the middle of the night. His hair was done elegantly, and with the utmost care. He was wearing a grey scarf, loosely pulled around his neck - with a supposed European shoulder bag on his arm. Underneath all those accessories, he he wore a tight, dark black v-neck, grey skinny jeans, and burning white Chukka boots, with black laces. In his hand, a cigarette. He took a slow puff, blowing small rings at the camera, momentarily fogging it up.

Apollo: Bon'jour, fans.

He took another drag, blowing the smoke upwards.

Apollo: And greetings from the London Eye. As you all know, at World's Strongest, I turned that beaner into a been-here. Crushed, beneath my baby seal skin slippers.

He laughed slowly, blowing smoke through his nostrils.

Apollo: As I said, I delivered a Pretty Boy Drop - not only that, but at the same time, reversed his finisher. Now, it is me against Malcom X marks the spot for the plane to crash.

He scowled, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground after his final puff of smoke.

Apollo: All he does is rile up the black community. If anything, all the little Treys, Daquans, and Fatishas should be looking up to me. A foreigner, making his way to success in a distant land. None of that generic "I'm black I'm so oppressed also I'm Muslim" bullshit. I only speak the truth. And some just can't handle that. I come from the heart. My assistant pulls my Calvin Klein pants on one leg at a time, just like you. As you young hood rats would say, I am so "real", and Jeremiah is "basic". I love grape soda just as much as the next guy, y'know? Just looking for the lucky one to be my Trap Queen. We can get jiggy with it, do the whip, nanay, whatever you please.

Apollo looked off, all dramatic like, a strand of hair falling to his forehead, sighing.

Apollo: Jeremiah has just been begging for the drop of the prettiest boy there is. He says 27 white champions...well, there will soon be 28. It's not racism - white people just generally work harder.

He looked back to the camera with a shit eating grin.
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Apollo: Jeremiah doesn't stand a chance. We're no longer in the U.S. - it's my territory. Europe. I have the home field advantage. His Muslim ideals mean little to none here.

He turned back around, yawning.

Apollo: You don't get this kind of beauty in America. The thing me and this view have in common - both are beautiful, and from Europe. Frank Anatole would be proud.

He paused, shaking his head with a sigh.

Apollo: You Americans wouldn't know who that is. Such uncultured swine.

Apollo scowled, spitting down on the ground in disgust. It seems that the ride was about over, now making itís 400some foot journey down to sea level. He generally looked repulsed, unable to stand the presumed stupidity of non-europeans.

Apollo: You cannot let his radical ideas fool you - heís simply trying to brainwash the masses. Heís the equivalent of black Hitler - saying any other race but african-americans must go down. Donít let him lie to you about oppression - the only thing he does is opress. He does it to every opponent he faces, saying how theyíre white, and how theyíre after him. Get this straight, Johnson. The man isnít after you because youíre black. Heís after you because youíre 2 months behind on your child support.

It didnít seem like he found the hypocrisy in his words, speaking in such a smooth manner, that it somehow made him look like the good guy, for but a second.

Apollo: He talks about black rights like theyíre out of style, yet, he and his pastor made jokes about a manís appearance, and said it was similar to a womanís. Canít you see? Heís against the LGBT rights. And I, for one, do not want to live in a world, where a homophobic, women-hating racist is the High Voltage champion.

He sighed, shaking his head once more. He spoke so elegantly, and with such a fiery passion. If one hadnít seen his last features on the show, and were to just see this video somewhere on the web, they might assume he was the good guy in all of these commotion.

Suddenly, the Eye stopped, and the door to the capsule opened.

Apollo: It was nice chatting. Au revoir.

The rest of the footage showed Apollo getting into a stretch limo, shouting in violent french to whomever was in there with him, and slamming the door, before cutting to black.