::The following sealed letter would be dispatched to the Crimson Courier Service later this morning. It was addressed to one "Lane 'Slapjack' Trey". Destination: Metro City in the nation of Lorquiis.::

Slap.....

Well, well, well. I'm here my nigga. Thank the gods. The trip was really uneventful, and the chicks on the boat were less than what I'm used to. But hey man it's all good. I'll save the sweet details for later. This f***en RhyDin place is very interesting. It's definitely got a load of weirdoes hanging about. A lot looser than the crews in Metro! Get a load of this nonsense, boy. It seems that all the mortal enemies here piss each other off, talk a lot of s**t and vow retribution, blah, blah, blah. Normal right'

Wrong.

These same marks rile up all this s**t and then they just hang out together at this wild freak-show place called The Red Dragon Inn, and pleasantly chat over some booze. Damn sick if you ask me.

In any case, I met up with Dirty out here. He's tightly holdin' down his bar-business. It's called "The Club Blue". Great place Slap! Just like a real live taste of Metro dropped right in the middle of this bizarre city. He sends his best, and yep he's still flying the old Pack colors.

We're already kindling new business talks. There's a load of potential to move in on some operations here bro. I'll get into more on that end later when I have some concrete figures. Trust me when I say that with "The Dirty Dogg" watching our backs down here, this WestEnd place is ripe for a hostile takeover.

Now, I know what you are sitting there waiting to hear. I had to keep you guessing.

Yes, I found her.

She is doing very well. Yes, she looks as f***en amazing as ever and, well, she's still Issy. Gorgeous and tough. Nails. She's set up a solid Sanctuary here in RhyDin, and has collected quite an army of Scathachian warriors to flesh it out. Man, each one of those hotties is more fine than the next. If they weren't Scathachian girls (you know, with the ability to serve us our units for lunch on any given day) I would say that it was the dream team of nWo harems. It's just way too SICK brah! They are booming! And the chicks that they keep company with...f***en unreal. There was this really stacked blue haired bombshell called the "Empress", my god! Jewell was her name. S**t negro, the stories are already abound about that wild one!

Our entire crew would be walking around with constant limps if they were here. No bulls**t man.

One of Issy's Scathachian crew already has eyes for me. She's some Asian warrior chick named "Wing Chung" or "Apple Foo Yong" or something. Crazy Jap can't keep her hands off me. No surprise there though; I'm tha STUFF. But you can't turn your back on those foreigners though, no matter how hot they are.

Anyway, Issy is having some kind of trouble down here. Some warped f**k is literally tearing folks apart and placing the blame on the girls. It's really perverted man. Some of the details are downright heinous! Not unlike that whole Stassi problem a few years back. I-Maxx needs me to do what I do best brah. I'm finna blend with some of the darker elements here to find out firm details. I'll flush the c**ksucker out.

So, I'll be heading out tomorrow night to see what I can serve up. One of Issy's pals is going to hit the streets with me. He is a straight up shooter named Brian Ravenlock. He's engaged to one of the younger Scath girl's, from what I gather (a hottie in her own right). Well, suffice to say, all he's missing is the black and white rag bro. He's our type of people, totally. I trust him to watch my six. Yes, yes he's a cracker but, hey all the best are right?

Alright, enough babbling for now. I had a f***en looooong night. I'll let you figure the rest out my nigga. I'm checked in at the VanderWall Inn in the ritzier part of town, under the sexxxy name of "Mr. Nash". I need luxury to concentrate properly, you know that. Your punk ass can reach me here with any inquiries or home front updates.

Will check back in soon. Give the crew my best; stay tight.

nWo 4 Life

~SCORP

::The following sealed letter would be dispatched to the Crimson Courier Service later this morning. It was addressed to one "Lane 'Slapjack' Trey". Destination: Metro City in the nation of Lorquiis.::

Slap...

Hey man. Very bad news. It's all real. All of it.

I'm trying to come to grips with this sick s**t by writing it down. Sometimes it's easier to write about it than to just sit here and think.

Here's what went down, man. Me, Issy, that cat Brian Ravenlock, and some of the Scathachians...we went to the stables where this guy, Ewan Corinsson, kept his prize horse or something. He's a friend of the girls. Seemed like a real stand up soldier.

Well, some vicious s**t went down, and he let the Sisters know about it first. So, Issy and the rest wanted to take a look before the guards cleaned up the mess.

Hah. I called it "The mess".

Now we've whacked entire crews before. Shot punks up. Even cut off quite a few limbs in our day. Brother, nothing could have prepared me for the sick, demented s**t that I walked into.

It was a f***en nightmare. A grotesque f***en scene out of a twisted f***en nightmare. Blood. Blood everywhere. It was a slaughterhouse. A f***en slaughterhouse. The horse. Damn, the horse was f***en wasted. Hacked to f***en shreds, man. Wasted.

There was a young girl, Slap. Couldn't have been older than seventeen. Whatever sick bastard did this, twisted her f***en neck all the way around. Stuck her in the damned corner looking like a broken f***en owl. Her eyes were wide open, Lane. Her face. My god I don't think I'll ever get that girl's face out of my f***en brain. I see it everytime I close my eyes. Vivid motherf***en dreams brah. It's sick.

I mean, she just stared up at us with that empty gaze and that open mouth. Frozen in time, man. Looking out as though she were asking us to turn her f***ing neck and head back straight again.

F***en aye. There were more f***ed up bodies in there. Hacked to damn pieces and looking more like a twisted mass of flesh and limbs. Whoever or whatever did this, melted them together or something. Barely looked human. Slap, I nearly f***en puked. You know me brother. I don't spook easily. I never blink at violence. This was a f***en inhuman massacre. Good word, inhuman.

Who the f**k is capable of doing something like this?"?" What sick, frenzied f**k would pull a hit like this??

There is a really warped, psycho f**k roaming the streets here, bro. I can't come home just yet. I gotta help them sort this s**t out. Whatever street knowledge and info I can bring them, I've gotta do something to help them bring this sick p***k down.

I'm sorry to bother you with this s**t brother, but I had to tell someone else. Someone who I know will take this s**t to heart. Flat out, it was f***en horrible. Horrible, man. I've never seen anything like it in all my f***en days.

Anyway Slap, despite all this crazy bulls**t, Issy sends her sincere best to you and the Pack. I just gotta help her here. No choice on this one. I hope you understand.

I really hope things are better on your end. Stay in touch; keep the nWo tight. I'm gonna try to get some sleep, brother.

The brandy always helps.

Talk soon.

~SCORP