It takes real grit to crawl to the top of the Scarabian underworld. To control the black market and to scream across the sands in search of quarry ripe for plunder. He's a master criminal. Lightning fast and untouchable. Yet fastidious, exacting, and meticulous. Of course, such desperadoes demand a high ransom. Not monetary, but in the position that comes in offing number one. Being on top means always keeping watch over your shoulder.

I wait alone in my abyssal room, closed off from the rest of Nowhere's pelagic envelope. My fist... it can punch. My foot... it can kick. In essence I am the perfect punching an kicking machine. And so I wait... wait for a true contender to defeat in combat so that I may rightly wear this awesome crown. And I've eaten to stay alive for all these years of waiting. I've eaten my own ever-replicating red spheres of nutrition. I am yummy for my own tummy.

I know kidnapping is wrong, I know it. I always try to be careful not to kidnap anyone. But... it's not as easy as it sounds... I was just heading to Burglin Park for some seasonings to add to my food at meal times – I collect the cute little packets and jars, you know. But have you ever been in a crowded park before? It's like the first day at work on a new diet, and someone's brought a box of your favourite doughnuts. Before I knew it, I had taken three hostages and was getting my ransom letter notarized. That's how they caught me, you know.