All or Nothing: Sam Smith vs. Steven Holmes vs. Constantine (Elite X Title)

[Ty Burna]

Deadline is Tuesday, December 20th at 11:59 PM Central Time

 

[a0161613]

Constantine has a 24 hr extension

 

[FunKay the Inevitable]

We open in silence and darkness. It is utterly complete with not a shred of life existing in its midst. Suddenly, a bright beam of light blasts its way into the picture. We can see that the light is shining brightly on a wrestling ring. Stood in the centre of the ring, and subsequently the light, is a figure. The figure’s head is bowed, almost as if mourning. The figure raises his head to reveal he is none other than Steven Holmes. The solemn nature of Holmes’ appearance is quick to disappear as a sick and twisted smile curves its way onto his face. His mouth opens slightly at one of the corners. He chuckles lightly. He stops, before opening his entire mouth, preparing to speak.

Holmes: Sam Smith. You aren’t the only person who can stand in the centre of a lone ring and talk in a serious and vicious manner. I thought that this would be an appropriate means of communication for you considering you never do seem to listen to what I have to say. You never heed my words. You ignorant fool. You always pretend you can’t hear my truth’s and continue your pointless little existence. Well guess what? That existence is coming to an end come All or Nothing.

Holmes’ face retains the warped, uneven smile as he pauses. He strokes his chin and then freezes. He moves the hand he stroked his chin with out in front of him. Next, he raises his other hand to join it. He looks at both of his hands, spreading them as far as possible. He examines the palm, and then the back of the hand before returning his attention to us, the viewer.

Holmes: These hands are responsible for the death of a dynasty. These hands are the kingmakers of today, and tomorrow. These hands were soaked in the blood of Big Dave.

Holmes blinks, his eyes turning their interest to his hands again, before he blinks for a second time, returning his focus on us once more. He lowers his hands.

Holmes: My hands were claret with Big Dave’s very essence cast upon them. He lay motionless in the ring, symbolic of the death of his era at the hands of Steven Holmes. The king was dead. And yet we all said straight afterward; long live the king! Barbosa took an opportunity to become what few men have ever, and ever will achieve. Did he do it on his own? No. Could he? We shall see.

Was what I did a declaration of war on Big Dave? No. It was merely a point made, and made painfully clear. Steven Holmes is a force of nature that can no longer be disregarded. Steven Holmes is the future of WZCW and the present. He is the next Elite X Champion, and a future World Heavyweight Champion. Don’t believe me? Just ask Gordito. Of course, his throat may not have recovered and he may be unable to answer you.

Holmes grins at the knowledge that he is responsible for a fair share of the chaos that has swallowed WZCW whole as of late. His grin dips into a more ominous, slight smirk. There is a slight pause as Holmes finds the time to laugh quietly at his devilish qualities. He soon resumes.

Holmes: Everyone has overlooked Steven Holmes. Well no more. I put the entirety of WZCW on notice with the destruction of Gordito and the demise of Big Dave. Those gentlemen will never forget my name and nor shall those who bore witness to my ascension. I find it funny that Gordito had risen to such prominence and had long been considered the pick of the bunch when it came to those of us from Meltdown 39. He was always chosen over myself and even Wasabi Toyota, but no longer. You see, while Gordito is in the main event of All or Nothing, he shan’t win. He can’t. It’s simply not going to happen. I mean, how can he?

He lacks not only the killer edge that is required of a true champion, but also, he’s psychologically beaten. I had my way with him at Ascension just as the Apostles have the last two weeks. Not even factoring in any of the other match participants, and Gordito’s shot at glory is already long gone. Once again, Steven Holmes is responsible for a game changing moment as he eliminates Gordito from the World Heavyweight Championship picture!

Holmes is obviously satisfied with his work as he rubs his hands together and licks his lips. Suddenly, his slow, deliberate movements are contorted into a quick, violent cracking of his fingers.

Holmes: Just as quick as that!

The hands are then returned back to their original positions, once more at a slow pace.

Holmes: That’s how fast it has taken for everyone to go from assuming that I and John Constantine are pretenders to the Elite X throne, to recognising that we are the kings of tomorrow. We are, and always have been, the future. It is only now that we are the present of WZCW too. Everyone assumes that because of our nature that our alliance will cave-in. They all assume that our ego’s will bring the partnership to an end. That is not the case.

We recognise that only one of us walks out of All or Nothing with championship gold. What we have always been determined to do is eliminate Sam Smith from the equation. Our common goal was always to take him out and then, between us, determine which of us was the more capable wrestler, and which of us was the true undisputed best wrestler alive today. Naturally it’s a position that I believe belongs to me, but Constantine believes it is his. That’s something that fuels both us to take the next step up the ladder. One of us will have the gold, but both of us will be satisfied, at least in part.

Holmes’ head dips faintly and his eyes close, almost as if he’s preparing to draw to a close, but once again, at an alarming rate, he’s quick and violent in bringing his head back to an upright position. His face now has a rich, toothy smile. There is a hint of madness in Holmes’ eyes.

Holmes: Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you Sam. Oh my dear boy, I have not. You see, a lot has changed in the six weeks or so since we last met for the prize that you hold dear. Back then I was all for saving an entire plethora of people, but now I want to end their miserable existence. Now I want not to spare them not by “showing them the light”, but to force them to endure the pain and torture of watching as those they have chosen to blindly follow suffer and writhe in agony. You are one of those they have blindly followed Smith.

I mean, why would they follow you? I’ve already exposed you as a murderer, a liar and a fiend. You are a brute whose victories are only chalked up due to the fact that you are lucky and that you are a deeply violent man. That is why I, along with John Constantine thought the best way to topple you, was to surpass you in the field of violence. That is why you were caught in the searing pain that is the Aristocracy Reigns. That is why you were bested by Barbosa. And that is why you were another victim of the ongoing ascension of Steven Holmes.

What happens to you at All or Nothing is the end. The end of your championship reign. The end of your aspirations to be anything more than you already are. The end of your career. Constantine and Holmes’ goal is not to end the title reign of Sam Smith, but to extinguish and exterminate the entire career and legacy of Sam Smith. When we are finished with you, you shall be nothing more than a quivering piece of flesh lying on the edge of the deep, dark abyss. You shall be cast into the pit of obscurity from whence you came, and this time, there shall be no escape.

Holmes shakes his head in absolute certainty that he is right and that Sam Smith will indeed meet his maker come All or Nothing. Rather than pause as we have perhaps become accustomed too, Holmes is now worked himself into a bit of a frenzy and he quickly continues, spitting as he pronounces each of his words with a hint of venom in almost every single one of them.

Holmes: The Elite X Championship shall be rescued from the end of Sam Smith by Holmes and Constantine and then these two immortals shall engage in a battle that the Gods themselves would envy. That championship shall be the prize of one of us. It shall signify that we have been successful in our plans. It is something I have always dreamt of wearing and while every fibre of my being hopes a even prays that it shall belong to me, I know there are3 greater things on my horizons.

It is as I said, the ascension has already begun. This isn’t a question of destiny or fate. Those are nothing but meaningless words that are thrown around to instil a sense of purpose in people. I should know as I used them. No, this is fact. I have already brought championship reigns and hopes down. I have already proven my qualities to the entire wrestling industry. It’s now only a matter of time before I take my place upon high. You see, there is a spot at the top that no man has ever held. Not Big Dave, not Ty Burna and not Barbosa. It is a spot that not even the God’s themselves can claim to have held. That spot is reserved for me, and once I reach it, I shall cast my eye over my kingdom and I shall reign as the almighty.

On that grim and sinister note, Holmes begins to chuckle and giggle before breaking down into a blood-curdling and bone-chilling maniacal laughter. It’s very presence would send shivers up the spine’s of even the strongest willed men. He eventually slows down in his laughter before it grinds to a complete halt. The bright light he has been bathed in from start to finish vanishes in an instant and silence falls as we conclude.

 

[The Crock]

My story is a simple one.

The speaker can be seen off in the distance, his features snapping into higher focus with each step.

I'm just a kid who chased after a dream -- a dream that took me here.

The speaker is now completely visible, revealing himself to be Sam Smith. Smith stops to look at his surroundings. He is standing at the foot of the entrance ramp of an empty arena. A few lights can be seen off in the distance, with one more weakly shining down directly on the wrestling ring.

Smith sits down on the ramp, completely focused on the ring. His Elite X Championship, which had been hanging on his shoulder is now sitting in his lap. Smith's focus changes from the ring to the title. He looks at it, a small smile creeping across his face.

Everybody has dreams. Most people never follow them, but I'm one of the lucky ones. There's mail men, cashiers, doctors, whatever, out there that all, at one point in time, wanted to be where I am today. They watched their heroes -- Flair, Hogan, Savage, Andre -- and said to themselves that some day they would be in that position too.

Smith pauses for a moment, shaking his head.

Somewhere along the line... somewhere... that dream, the will to pursue it, got sapped out of them. Hell, it almost happened to me. People try to conform to society's expectations, to make those who believe in them proud, so they do what I did -- they become something they were not, in my case, a lawyer. They're handed a piece of paper, a diploma, which suddenly makes them something. What they don't realize, something it took me a long time to learn, is that everybody has some kind of worth around here. In the large scheme of things, a doctor may be more valuable to society than I am, but that doesn't mean I can't try my hardest to disprove that. I left a solid law career to follow a dream that had been engraved in my brain for as long as I remember.

My childhood was spent suplexing pillows in my room, dropping elbows onto my bed, emulating everything I had seen on television. As a kid, before you're exposed to the evils of this world, you think anything is possible. Looking back at myself as a child, I was convinced I would be here -- it wasn't because I had a better work ethic than anybody else, but because it was my dream. What was the point of going through life and not pursuing my dreams? I didn't want to be a lawyer, I wanted to be a wrestler. That became a far off fantasy somewhere along the line. Maybe I wasn't prepared at the time, I don't know, or maybe I really didn't know what I wanted at the time, but I figured it out eventually.

Smith looks off into the stands, taking a deep breath before continuing.

I wanted to entertain people through my own medium, through my own art form: Wrestling. I left a job where I was going to make seven figures to work for twenty-five dollars a night, if I was lucky. None of that mattered though. I was pursuing my dream, I was happy. I still had my demons, but that wasn't because of wrestling. I realized that when I was in front of that crowd, whether it be twenty people or twenty thousand people, I was in my sanctuary. It was an escape from real life problems, from taxes, from bills, from everything. Every person had something they were meant to do... Wrestling is what I was meant to do.

Smith stands up, walking down to the ring, circling around it, eventually sliding in.

The second I stepped foot into this ring, I knew. I never saw it as a chore, I genuinely looked forward to it. I remember coming home with bruises and cuts all over, barely able to walk, after working a few matches in one day, but it never bothered me. The only thing that ever bothered me was seeing people who had once been proud of my accomplishments hide what I had become -- it never shook conviction and my commitment though. As long as I could look out into that crowd and see one kid smiling, one kid that I had made happy, I had done my job.

Smith leans against the corner before continuing on.

To others I worked with, it wasn't like that. I saw guys out there who hated wrestling and only treated it as a regular "job." Let's be honest, how many people get to entertain for a living? On the flip side of that, I would often see guys out on the independent circuit who were twice my age; desk clerks by day, wrestlers by night. I admired those guys. It didn't matter if they were wearing the same ring gear that they'd worn in 1987 or that they weren't as athletic as they once were, they still had hope. They didn't care about the money, it paid for a meal and gas for the trip, but they wanted the experience, they wanted to be out there. Why? Because during any given night, you could get your big break. I modeled myself after those guys, they were some of the best people I had ever met. They always offered advice, they were the first ones waiting to congratulate you when you came back from the ring, they were always willing to help the ring crew -- you could tell they loved it.

It's a shame those guys probably won't ever get their big break, because they, just like everybody on the WZCW roster, deserve it. I remember the day I got my contract, ready to tell all the guys at my last indy scene shows. You know how people react to that? Most were jealous, but those guys, the ones who really loved what they were doing, felt a tinge a pride for me. They congratulated me, they offered to take me out for dinner, they were truly happy for me.

Smith points to his Elite X Championship, which is now around his waist.

This title, as much as I love it, is for them. When I won the title, I immediately thought about the path my career had taken. I was "there," I was at the top of the mountain. I had gone from being a nobody, to being a champion in the greatest wrestling promotion in the world, WZCW. Why had I been so lucky? Why were others skipped over? I can't say exactly why, but I can definitely say I got lucky. Yeah, I worked hard to get the top of my profession, but it took everything lining up just right for me. I realized that and counted my blessings for where I was. My time in the world of professional wrestling is limited, I want to take advantage of every moment.

A flash of anger crosses Smith's face.

That's why, for the life of me, I'll never figure out why there are people like Holmes and Constantine. Why are they in this? They don't care about wrestling, all they care about is themselves, their own well-being takes precedent over everything else. They're willing to take every shortcut to get to where they want to be -- hell, a part of me appreciates that! They're trying to take advantages as they see fit, but then I put it into perspective. Those two have tried to end my career more times than I can remember, they tried to take my dream away. I don't react kindly to that. I'm not one to try to end someone's career, but I have no shame in admitting this does not apply to Holmes and Constantine. If I can, I WILL end them.

Why do they have the right to take away my well being? What makes them above me or better than me? Nothing. We're all in the same boat, except for one thing: I have the gold around my waist. I will die in the ring before I give this up to either of them. It doesn't matter if it's basically a handicap match, it doesn't matter that they'll do whatever they can to win. This title means a lot to me, this title doesn't just represent my dreams, but the dreams of everybody that has ever wanted to be in my position, of everybody that has ever supported me. I don't take that as pressure, but as my responsibility. If I can hold up what this gold means, then what good am I?

If you're willing to throw away the gold, willing to squander the chance of a lifetime that you're given, then get the hell out of here. Holmes and Constantine need to realize how lucky they are to be here; we all are. Holmes and Constantine represent everything that is wrong with the world and I'll never be able to figure out why.

That doesn't change their ability or the fact that we have a match. The title of the PPV is perfect for this match, actually. It's All or Nothing. The three of us will step into that ring, one man will leave with it all, the other two with nothing. It will be the toughest test I've ever had to face, but I'm confident I will leave the victor. I've had an amazing career in WZCW thus far, including successful title defenses over both of these men. I will give my all in that ring, I will not accept defeat, not with all those people who have always believed in me.

I dedicate my match this Sunday at All or Nothing to those people in this world who followed their heart. See you in the ring, Constantine and Holmes. Be prepared for a war.

Smith steps out of the ring, walking up the entrance ramp to the back. As he reaches the top of the ramp, he stops and turns to face the ring. He raises his title high above his head, taking one last look at the ring, before walking to the back.

 

[Harthan]

(Please note: Posting for Dave)

------

The Miracle Before All Or Nothing​

It is a cold and quiet night in Washington DC. The wintry conditions have taken their toll on John Constantine as he adds another layer of clothing to his freezing body. His manor is vast and no amount of coal fires can keep it heated in these conditions. The weatherman on the small bedroom TV informs him that temperatures have dipped to below freezing but this is no surprise to The Power Trip as he switches off the aforementioned TV. He lets out a breath that immediately becomes visible as it meets with the cold air.

Constantine: Ridiculous!

He stumbles over his words slightly as conditions begin to get the better of him. He rubs his hands together and blows a warm breath of air into them as he paces around his magnificent room in an attempt to get some heat into his body. He continues pacing but to no avail. Cold winds are blowing a gale outside and his old wooden windows begin to creak under the force of the storm outside.

Constantine: Forget it!

Constantine hurries over to his bed but no so fast that he feels as though the conditions have bested him. “No one beats Constantine, not even the elements” is what runs through his head. But deep inside, he knows he has been bested. The disappointment of coming in second place to Mother Nature is quickly washed away as the warmth of his bed and electric blanket warm him all the way to his core. It's not long before the warmth begins to spread to his extremities. He uncurls his toes and allows his arms to be somewhere else than clutched to his chest. The cold outside of the bed is still gripping but under his sheets, the warmth is exhilarating. Content and appreciative of the heat, Constantine slouches down deeper into the recesses of his king size bed and closes his eyes. He feels the embrace of The Sandman's spell take hold of him and it is not long before The Power Trip is sleeping.

But there is a ringing coming from his study in the next room.

Constantine is woken from his sleep as the ringing continues. The lights that illuminated the room when he begin sleeping have been doused now. The room is in sheer darkness as he sits up in his bed. He would never admit it but a fear begins to emerge in his brain. His bravado and ego attempt to push it deep down into his subconscious but are bested as a haunting shriek blasts from his study and the wooden door is blown open. The once dark room is lit by a hauntingly green glow as the shrieking continues. Constantine pounces out of his warm refuge and stands behind his bed, clutching at the oak frame. Fear overwhelms him as the shrieking becomes more vigorous and draws closer. Step after step, the noise grows closer to him before eventually revealing itself in the open doorway.

Constantine focuses for a second, squinting at the figure that occupies his home and his thoughts...

Constantine: Crashin? Doug Crashin!?

Constantine slowly allows himself to walk around the frame of his bed. Looking deep into the ghostly figure that stares back at him. Slowly he walks towards the ghoul, not so naïve to think that he is merely imagining what he is seeing. He knows better than to not trust his gut and his gut is telling him to be wary of the presence that stands before him.

Constantine: What are you doi-

The figure of Doug Crashin lets out one final shriek that illuminates the room in a blue glow. The power of the shriek shakes the foundations of the house as Constantine finds it hard to keep himself on a vertical basis. His fear had started to subside somewhat but was now more plentiful than it had ever been. As the shriek stops, the figure of Doug Crashin slowly turns it's head towards the former politician.

Doug: John Constantine! Your deeds have finally caught up with you!

The spirits booming voice deafens The Power Trip slightly as he struggles to take in exactly what is happening. His knees creak under the weight of himself. It is all he can do to not pass out. But he remains still, listening to the voice of the figure. Suddenly, the room that Constantine found solitude in begins to slip away. The floor that is cold to the touch begins to fade as a new surrounding becomes evident. It is an arena filled with people. All of them are shouting the name of Sam Smith as he covers The Power Trip to re-capture his Elite X Championship. The crows explodes with applause and ecstasy as Constantine succumbs to his foe. Constantine stands in his pyjamas with the ghostly figure as fans are sent into raptures as Smith celebrates his win.

Doug: Do you recognise this place?

Constantine swallows his pride and fear for a moment and reaches out to a fan that is celebrating loudly next to him. To his surprise, his hand travels through the fan. His shock is cut short though as the ghostly figure of Doug puts a hand on his shoulder as Sam Smith holds his Elite X Championship above his head.

Constantine: Yes , spirit, I do.

This is where my dream of becoming a champion in WZCW was put under enough stress to put me on the shelf. I will never forget this night, it is the lowest point of my career.

I remember being so downtrodden that I had already beaten myself before I even stepped into the ring to challenge for the Championship. My mind was so twisted and selfish that I thought I was untouchable. When Smith covered me that night, I remember wishing to be put out of my misery. Everything I had worked for as a member of the WZCW roster had been cruelly snatched away from me. The disappointment of losing out on something I never had crushed me, Spirit.

Constantine swallows hard as he looks down on Smith going to work on his past self.

Constantine: I used to think that I had gotten to Smith. That I had pushed him so close to the edge that this was him taking his frustrations out on someone. I had proven that even the most sincere men could be corrupted by power and I thought I had won the war. But as I sat by myself in my study recovering from the injuries that were given here, I realised that this was not a man being corrupted by my actions and words. This was an act of mercy on the part of Sam Smith. I had grown to be so egotistical that my mind wouldn't allow me to see that I was not trying hard enough. It allowed me to realise that I was not all I was cracked up to be, that I wasn't Championship material at that point.

It is a cruel way for you to realise something but what Sam Smith did for me that night has driven me to what I am now. I've never tried harder to be the paradigm of what a WZCW wrestler should be. I have never been more motivated to make a name for myself in the world of professional wrestling and I guess I should be thanking him for that. Back then I thought that I could beat Sam Smith on Pay-Per-View...

Constantine steels himself and clenches his jaw as the raw emotion of his words sweeps over him like a tidal wave.

Constantine: But now, I know that I can. I have beaten the very best that this business has to offer. The likes of Titus and Big Dave have fallen at my feet and have begged for mercy as I resigned them to their fate. Even Sam Smith has fallen to my whim and I feel powerful, Spirit. It is not cockiness or ego that is driving me to beat him any more, it is reluctance to become what I once was. It is determination to be the best that WZCW has ever seen and although that road seems long now, I know that I have taken the first steps along the path. The fear that I would fail has been replaced by a yearning to prove myself to everyone who ever doubted my credentials.

This, Spirit, was the first time that I have ever felt defeated. I'll never forget it.

Suddenly, the filled arena begins to slip away from Constantine. Bright lights blind the Power Trip for a second, causing him to clench his eye lids together. He lifts his arms to shield his eyes and feels every single modicum of what is happening around him. The deafening screech that accompanies the transition begins to fade and as Constantine reluctantly opens his eyes, a new surrounding is before him. This time, it is more altogether serene environment. An empty locker room that has no memorable features. Constantine looks at the spirit, confused as to why he is here. Suddenly, another past version of Constantine hurries in the door and closes it after him. There is a smile etched across his face as he slowly paces around the room. He lets out a giggle as he takes in exactly what has just happened.

Doug: And this place? Do you remember it?

Constantine looks at the spirit once more and allows a smile to emerge on his face.

Constantine: Remember it, Spirit? Of course I do. This was right after Meltdown 66 only a few weeks ago. This is and will forever stand as the greatest day of my professional life, Spirit.

Not only did I silence the critics once and for all, I proved to myself that I was cut out to be in this business. This was the night that I allowed everything else to slip away except the ecstasy of the win. Not just any win either, Spirit. This was a win over Big Dave. A man who had already bested me on one occasion and who, at the time was the WZCW Heavyweight Champion. This was a man who had devoted his entire career with WZCW to becoming the World Heavyweight Champion and had finally accomplished his goal. I respect that more than anything, Spirit. Like me, he tried everything in his power to become the most important person in this business and he succeeded. That's very noble and I respect it.

But this is a dog-eat-dog world and just as soon as he had climbed the mountain, I brought him back to Earth with an almighty clatter. I beat him to within an inch of his life and Barbosa cashed in his King For A Day briefcase. I had expected the journalists and reporters to be talking about that psychopath but instead they were falling over themselves to get an interview with the Power Trip. People weren't talking about a man who was so opportunistic to take advantage of a broken and beaten Champion. They were talking about the man who had put his heart and soul into putting the Champion into that state in the first place. For the first time in my career, I had put down a mark of authority to someone that deserved it. I trained harder than I ever have and although my words were prior were massive, my actions were bigger. Never before has a Champion been beaten so mercilessly by a competitor and as Barbosa cashed in his Championship opportunity, I realised that it would never have been possible without me and my determination.

I guess what Barbosa achieved was as much my accomplishment as his...

Doug looks at the Constantine who stands beside him with a look of satisfaction on his features. Constantine, however, does not notice this weakening in the spirit's resolve. He is too busy admiring himself with a look of excitement on his face. Again, a blisteringly bright light consumes the surrounding and just like that, it is a thing of the past. Constantine closes his eyes once again as the light surrounds him and he feels the cold stone floor of the locker room face away from beneath his toes. As his sense begin to return to him, he feels grass between his toes. The loud screaming noise is gone again but there is a different atmosphere surrounding this place. There is death in the air and a morbid sense of regret. Constantine opens his eyes and is surprised by what he sees. It is a graveyard that lies before Constantine.

Doug: You will not recognise this place, John. For this is a place that is still to be. Before us, you lie in the ground, a man who has accomplished nothing. For all your money and your words, you never managed to prove to people that you were worthy of something more. You blew it time after time and now all that surrounds you is the cold and unforgiving ground.

Constantine's chest begins to heave as he catches sight of a gravestone covered by cobwebs and dirt. The name of John Constantine is barely visible to the eye but upon noticing it, Constantine shrieks in fear. He stumbles backwards and hides behind the spirit that journeys with him.

Doug: This will be your fate, John! This will be the outcome of your life if you cannot prove to people that you are a champion in every sense of the word. Tonight, you have witnessed the devastating lows of failure and you have also known the warm allure of success. You know what is required of you at All Or Nothing, John. It is your last opportunity to begin your legacy in WZCW.

Constantine swallows deeply and begins to nod his head in agreement. He allows himself to let go of Doug's robes and ventures over to the grave that contains his lifeless body. Dropping to his knees and looking at his resting place up and down, a solitary tear begins to emerge in the Power Trip's eyes.

Constantine: Thank you, Spirit. I know what is expected of me now.

At All Or Nothing this Sunday. I know what I must do. I must square off against Sam Smith and Steven Holmes and know deep in my heart that I have what it takes to beat them. They are both talents and both have shown their skills. Steven Holmes is my partner but I must not allow that to slow me down. He, just like Sam Smith is my enemy at All Or Nothing. I have to realise that my destiny comes before any alliance I have. I will not be sold down the river by another competitor like Showtime David Cougar did to me. I will respect my opponents but I will not fear them. This is what I should fear. I should fear passing on from WZCW with no notable qualifications to my name. Steven Holmes must realise that this is what we have both worked for. He must realise that our success over Sam Smith is what needs to come first and he must also realise that if he gets in my way, then I am going to have to finish the last part of this journey on my own.

All Or Nothing 2011 is my last chance to prove to everyone that John Constantine has what it takes to be one of the greats in this business. I must beat Sam Smith and Steven Holmes and claim my first legitimate Championship in WZCW. This fate is not certain. I can rise above what I see here. I can be a Champion in WZCW. I don't fear defeat any more, Spirit. I only use that thought to drive me onto success.

Thank you for showing me this, Spirit. But please, take me from this place. I know what I have to do.

The familiar blinding lights sweeps over Constantine again as the graveyard disappears before his eyes. This time, there is no new environment that is alien to the Power Trip. He is safely back in his bed. He rolls over as soon as his eyes are open. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows and is illuminating his features. It is a new day and Constantine feels lucky to be in it. He jumps out of bed with a new lease on life, He has never felt so rejuvenated in all of his days. Perhaps it was a dream but perhaps something more mystical had indeed occurred. Regardless, Constantine knew what was expected of him at All Or Nothing and he would not fear his demise.

Rather, he will march onto the battlefield and meet it head to head, safe in the knowledge that he has what it takes to become the new Elite X Champion.