Kingdom Come V: The Sacrificial Altar vs. Team Strikeforce (War Games)

[Harthan]

One of the longest feuds in the existence of WZCW will finally come to an epic conclusion inside one of the most terrifying structures known to man (the Elimination Chamber) as Mikey Stormrage and his strikeforce team will take on Grand Mystique and his followers under the banner of the Sacrificial Altar. It has been nothing but mind games and ambushes for the past few months, attempting to get into the psyche of Mikey Stormrage and turn him into a destructive force but when things went south and men like Derek Jacobs & James Howard returned to stand up and fight the evil cult, Mystique was forced to bring in help of the likes of D.C who hasn't been seen since the inaugural days of the company as well as his right-hand man, Mason Westhoff.

Depending on the outcome of the Ricky Runn vs. David Whitman match that will take place at the WrestleZone Weekend could very well depend on the result of this match as the winner will offer their selected team an advantage, granting their team first entry into the match. With this in mind, can the will-power of Mikey Stormrage and the Strikeforce defeat their foes or will the Sacrificial Altar rise to dominance?


Deadline is Thursday July 25, 2013 @ 11:59 P.M. (Central). No Extensions​

 

[a0161613]

It’s a beautiful day in Texarkana and the church of Brother Mason Westhoff is resplendent in the gorgeous sunshine.

“And so it begins brothers and sisters. With the blessing you so generously bequeathed to me, I will undertake a brave new journey. I will spread the word of our faith and we will see it blossom and it will succeed alongside me. With incredible belief, my mental prowess and physical gifts, I will be sure to dominate those who are intellectually challenged, distracted by their sins and blinded to the guidance of the Almighty.”

“Thank you all. I promise to return, to share my stories and successes. Until then, it is not goodbye, merely see you all very soon.”

Brother Mason Westhoff bows and takes the rapturous applause of packed-out crowd in front of him. It was a modest crowd compared to what awaits him but the small Bridge to Texarkana Church is filled to standing room only. Brother Westhoff takes his time to reach out to each and every one of his parish before a tall, bearded man approaches him.

“That was a fine sermon Brother Mason. Your belief is both remarkable and admirable.”

“Thank you.”

“You will need every iota of strength and then some to have a chance in this strange new world.”

“You are familiar with WZCW?”

“Indeed. It’s a bizarre world filled with characters who will take great joy is rejecting your rhetoric. The fans will eat you alive if you spout off about your Almighty.”

“You don’t believe in what I can bring to the company? The good I can bring, the wrongs I can make right?”

“That’s not my point. I believe you can do what you set out to achieve but you will require more than belief.”

“What would that be?”

“Assistance and a higher power.” The bearded man offers his right hand. “My name is Gerald Masterson and I think I’d like to talk to you in some great detail about your Destiny in WZCW.”

“It’s an interesting proposition Mr Masterson but I’m willing to walk with the sharks and the psychopaths. I’m more than content to do it alone and place my trust in the Almighty.”

Masterson leans in closely.“I understand that you feel that you will unbeatable if you have the right hand of the Almighty on your shoulder but WZCW will rip that hand off at the shoulder. Your blood will stain the water and you will be picked off by the bottom feeders who line the scummy surface of that ocean. You will be prey until you become the predator, form an army and take over.”

Mason looks at him with an innocent confusion, baffled by the verbose albeit passionate display.“That is of course why you hold such faith isn’t it? That you will gain followers?”

Something in that last sentence gets Mason’s attention; it may have been his persuasive tone or unyielding manner but Mason’s eyes make it clear he is hooked. “I’d be happy to speak with you further Mr Masterson. You make some unique points and I can’t deny that hearing such a resoundingly negative view is somewhat refreshing.”

“Trust me when I say that the Almighty is inherently tied to your Destiny, your potential for greatness.”

The stranger leaves quickly and soon disappears among the throng of Texarkana populous that gathers around the pastor.

*

We fast forward three months later but return to the Bridge of Texarkana Church. It is now night and the shadows of darkness fill the corners of the stonewashed walls. The Grand Mystique and Mason Westhoff are sat in a corner of the church.

“Unscripted is fast approaching my liege and your plan is ready to be carried.”

“Mason, your efforts so far have been spectacular. You have dragged Steamboat Ricky along, teasing his ego and shattering the widely held illusion of the rats that used to shout his name. He will be the first sacrifice as we have discussed.”

“I have promised that tonight would be privy to the next stage of the plan and iIndeed I have no reason to keep it from you. Tonight we shame Ricky and leave him battered, broken and empty, then we will scar the world of WZCW with our united image at the forefront of their minds.”

“And who will be the one we will subject to that torture?”

“Strikeforce.”

Mason smiles with a devilish delight, a trait that is normally reserved for the man opposite. He cannot contain his satisfaction.

“But that is not all. Our project requires a sacrifice from within before growing exponentially.”

“Derek?” The approval drains his face in an instant.

“Of course. He has been a pawn. It’s clear to me that he will never truly accept your teachings. He never made the sacrifices that you urged of him. Before we reach All or Nothing, Derek will suffer an unimaginable pain at your hands”

“How? When?”

“Don’t concern yourself with the details. It is mere Destiny. In the same way the false prophet will fall because he is blind, the muscular brawn will be sacrificed by an act so traumatic it will alter his mental state forever because he will never see it coming.” Mason is clearly hesitant. “Brother Westhoff, it is imperative to our mission but let’s proceed as planned tonight. Instantly Westhoff is visibly relieved.”We will see instant results when you are relieved of the weight around your neck and we will evaluate the destiny of Brother Jacobs in due time.”

*

“If everything you have said about this DC character is true, why are we lining up as an ally? Why isn’t he a potential sacrifice? A lesson for those ingrates who think that ignorance is bliss?”

“It’s a fair point. But we are approaching the Lethal Lottery and Kingdom Come. The war is about to begin in earnest and we will need numbers to support our upcoming victory.”

“They will be able to hold us off for that long? You are set to crush Mikey Stormrage in a steel cage at the Lethal Lottery. Jacobs and Howard are already incapacitated. Surely they have nothing left.”

“It’s natural to underestimate them but it is Destiny for this great battle to end on a suitable stage. They will walk in broken and divided but they will be convinced of their chances. Of course it seems unlikely now but it is inevitable.”

“Then you have convinced me.”

“I never had a doubt that I would Mason. Your acceptance of our cause continues to be unmatched.”

A lady emerges from the nearby office.

“Mr Westhoff, Mr Masterson. Mr Silver will see you now.”

*

“Look buddy. You are taking me for a putz and Eli Silver is not a putz. Your boy wishes he could have an agent as good as me! Get lost you Yonkers dumbass!” He slams down his hands-free Bluetooth headset onto the pine desk. “Betsy! Hey Betsy! Don’t put that idiot through again OK!” He gives Westhoff a judging look before sitting down at his desk but not before reaching out and gesturing the two men to two chairs. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Mr Silver, my associate and I are looking to recruit two men who I know you have a vested interest in. I believe they are two of your more famous names.”

“Hold up Hodor. You think I’m going to let two big money guys go with you to WZCW?” Mason cannot feign any surprise as Eli immediately turns on a cocky and confident tone. “That’s right big guy I know where you’re from. I can’t peg your chunky friend here but nobody who has me as their client will go to that funfair!”

“You mean DC and David Whitman wouldn’t be interested in resurrecting their careers and turning their lives around? You’ve offered them every chance to help themselves and where has that got them?”

“Look, D and Whitman are money. But they’re my money chicos.” Eli gives a direct look to Westhoff's silent (so-far) cohort .

“We are offering you a very fair deal to simply point them in our direction; the right direction. You’ll continue to reap the financial benefits; we just have a use for their very specific skillset.”

“I think you’re looking at the wrong people. DC & Whitman live for having the fans behind them. They’re the best at what they do. They’re not bad guys.”

“They were. The men that you know would never look at the fans in the same way that myself or The Grand Mystique do but the men you know are gone. DC is broken, an fragile and empty vessel. The man that you could rely on even though he was the most frustrating thing in your life is dead. He has no energy and he can’t even lift that trademark middle finger anymore.”

“And Whitman? What’s your Freudian insight there? Mummy issues?”

“Hardly. Where DC has nothing left, Whitman is nothing, a shadow, a breeze. He needs to rediscover his centre, his catalyst.”

Eli sighs. These two men absolutely convinced, unwavering in their certainty. Mason perks up once more as he sees Eli waiver briefly.

“Mr Masterson & I are willing to take these two broken men to The Grand Mystique and you will see them get better. They have to be used. That’s the first step. Only then can they sacrifice the ills in their lives and serve a true purpose to become useful once again.”

“Gentlemen and I use that term loosely, I should tell you where to stick your deal but I’m not one to take a sh*t at a party. Let me sit on it and I’ll think about whether it’s worth my while.”

“You do that Mr Silver. Thank you for your time.”

Mason heads to the door but Masterson holds back and leans toward Silver.

“Mr Silver, do the right thing. If these men are your friends, guide them into WZCW.”

Soon Eli is left by himself. Stunned by the events of the recent encounter, he is barely able to move, until he mutters “Cheeky f*ckers!” He slams his hand onto the desk before picking up his Bluetooth headset.

*

The four men of The Sacrificial Altar have gathered one final time prior to Kingdom Come V. The Grand Mystique stands tall among them as he details his charges prior to battle.

“Gentlemen, the night we have prepared for is close. Destiny comes to the forefront. The games have to come to an end. We have been toying with Strikeforce and Jacobs for far too long. Their hope, their optimism are about to run dry when they need it all the most. If you have any doubts about why we are here, voice them now. I will not allow you to be at Kingdom Come if you have any wavering thoughts that will leave you weak.”

The men in the room are silent while GM stalks them, eyeing them up for any sign of weakness.

“OK.” DC pipes up. “We’ve not talked about this too much. I don’t know why but I want an answer, it’s as good a time as any.” GM stops prowling. “Why Strikeforce? It doesn’t make much sense. Maybe I haven’t been here long enough but what was it about them?”

“It’s simple really. They had made history; they were the best team in the company. They had just done what no-one thought they would do and it wasn’t even in our minds. The reason we destroyed them is the same reason that we hired you DC.” GM and Westhoff exchange looks and Westhoff smiles as big a grin as DC had ever seen from him.

“What’s the one word that I would use to describe you DC?” The greasy haired rebel looks up and stares at the preacher. “He hates riddles.” Whitman grins sarcastically and only for a second. “Come on D. It’s easy.”

DC glances at each of the men in front of him before staring firmly at Westhoff. He whispers quietly. “Sin.” David claps somewhat playfully but DC shoves him away. “Exactly. Now that very flaw is why we chose Strikeforce.” Mason speaks with a great pride as he reveals their great plan but DC scoffs at it.

“Are you kidding me? They embody sin? The goody two shoes and the dumb oaf?” Whitman seems to match his friends concerns. “You forget Derek Jacobs, the simpleton with nothing between the ears.”

“Gentlemen, Mason is correct. Look past the facade and you will see that the four men that oppose us are everything that is wrong with WZCW.”

Mason continues to smirk with evil intent.“Each and every sin infects and taints WZCW but Strikeforce are the biggest culprits of all because they try to show that they are absolutely normal. They came from absolutely nowhere and achieved more than their dreams could take. They thought they were so pure and good, honest to a fault and it made us sick. We had planned to get rid of Steamboat Ricky as soon as he positioned himself as an ally to myself and Derek but Strikeforce grew in stature having lost their tag team titles. Then they won the chance of a rematch when they beat Derek. That singular moment put them on my radar but it took the Grand Mystique’s advice for me to understand why they had to be brought down from great ecstasy to true pain.”

The Grand Mystique nods knowingly.“We noticed when they beat Mason and Derek, the painful desire with which they would have done anything to get to that tournament final. When we assaulted Mikey Stormrage, I felt the gluttony coursing through him. When I saw James crash to the mat, I saw the wrath in his eyes. Their pride evaporated faster than water in the desert. And that was all our doing.”

“So it all goes back to that night?”

“That’s when it started. Derek was guilty of it too. He was jealous that I was the trusted right hand of The Almighty. He was furious that Mason was aware of the entire plan and he detested being toyed with like a fool.”

“Everything I hear points to you two being the ones at fault. I know I’m not the smartest tack but what do I not see here?”

“Mason and I have put everything on hold for this crusade against their sins. Mason could hold any title in this company. I should have been given the Eurasian title match. We have altered our own destiny from that of true individual success in order to right the wrongs that Derek Jacobs and Strikeforce represent.”

“Not to mention the ingrate that is Ricky Runn.” Mason gives a pointed look at Whitman that screams "win or else" without a sound leaving his lips.

“Every decision we have taken is to make The Sacrificial Altar stronger. We destroyed Mason’s spiritual home. We ripped out the muscle that was Derek Jacobs and we replaced him with you two. At significant risk might I add.”

“Oh bravo for pulling two rusty old wheels out of the scrapheap.”

“Hey!”

“Dude, you built a cabin! It’s clearly a mid-life crisis! The alternative was to get a convertible!”

“Enough you two.”

GM interjects himself between the two friends who have stopped their bickering to glare at Westhoff. “I’ve given you two the time to understand why you are here. It was because I knew we could give you two something to fight for. Whether you like it or not, that is why we are here. I know that you two, better than most, understand the faults of the men we are fighting.”

“But the war that you started simply gave those victims something to fight for.”

“That was unfortunate.”

“It wasn’t unfortunate Mason. It was destiny. Look back at it all, it created the battleground on which we enter. You need to understand it all had to come to this? The match at All or Nothing, a Steel Cage, the Lethal Lottery returns, David’s debut. It all leads to Kingdom Come.” The Grand Mystique fills the room with his authority, not unlike a poisonous gas silently chokes a victim. “So say what you want about what we have done wrong but let’s say what we have done right. We stand on the edge of destiny. We have taken everything away from those three men and greatness, immortality awaits us as the victors. Everything that has come before boils down to this. The pursuit, their pain, it ends when the door opens and we ride into the claustrophobic confines of Hell, we will seize Destiny and the rewards that She brings as our prize.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it?” Ever the rebel, DC perks up with another sarcastic comment but GM looks down at him with a malevolent spark in his eyes.

“If this is a game, let play it by our rules. You all know what is expected of you...absolute sacrifice.”

The members of The Sacrificial Altar are left silently contemplating the demands of their cloaked director-in-chief. DC shuffles uncomfortably in his seat and slyly looks at his watch.

“So gentlemen, in the meantime, never let my benevolence be questioned. Take your leave, prepare as you require and we will reconvene at Kingdom Come.”

GM disappears quickly into the shadows and Mason soon follows. DC gets up quickly, David looks at him and smiles but DC is weary and doesn’t return the gesture. “Well I’d better go as well, nothing like going to the happiest place on Earth to get in the right mental state for a war.”

 

[Shotaro]

They say that insanity is simply trying to do something over and over again and expecting a different result.

Mason Westhoff? Failure
Grand Mystique? Failure
David Whitman? Failure.

Three matches, three failures. Everything that I had done to this point was absolutely useless. Every goal that I had hoped to achieve in WZCW was nothing to me now. I only saw one way out.

Going back to the cemetery to see James was hard to do. Try as might, I just couldn't stay away from his family.

My family.

I had tried so hard to turn my back on them, to completely become a monster that couldn't be controlled. But in reality, I was a broken man who had broken himself even further.

I came back here to find peace before the storm. I came back here to meditate.

I came back here to talk to my friend.

His headstone doesn't shine that much anymore. I guess that's what Chicago weather will do to marble. It's not as smooth as it once was, but it's still as cold as ever. I removed some dead flowers from his resting place and replaced them with new ones. Kneeling before him, I began to speak.

“You always hated flowers, but Allison thought it would be best for me to bring some today. Hell, I would've just brought some Jack Daniels and toasted to you, but that kind of thing is frowned upon.

“Kingdom Come is coming up, and I'm teaming with Strikeforce to fight against The Sacrificial Altar. It's not just a normal match though.

“They made it Wargames.

“That doesn't scare me, though. I'm happy that it's something so final. I'm ready to be done, James. I've been beaten, abused, had you made mocked and ridiculed, and I'm tired.

“That's why I've decided to leave WZCW after Kingdom Come.

“Wargames is going to be my last match. I haven't told anyone else yet, and I really don't plan on telling anyone. I have a plane to catch in a couple of hours. I'm going to James Howard's for some team training before we leave for LA. I just wanted to stop by and say that I miss you.

“I love you.”

With those last words, I stand up and leave my friend behind.

A couple hours later, I'm on a plane listening to music on my iPod, thinking about the last couple of months. It's almost funny that two of the men I'm facing at Kingdom Come were my best friends at one point, or at least I thought they were.

Grand Mystique I never really trusted completely, but Mason was like a brother to me, and honestly his betrayal did hurt. But mostly anger is what I felt. Anger at both of them understandably, but mostly anger at myself for letting it get this far. It had to know it was going to end at Kingdom Come, one way or another.

In the taxi on the way to Howard's, I couldn't help but feel apprehension. This was the first time that I would be training with him and Mikey at once, and the first time that Mikey and I would even be around each other outside of the fed. Nervousness, anxiety, whatever you call it was pumping through my body like crazy. At the same time though, there was a feeling of peace that washed over me.

For better or worse, this was going to be the end. I would be at peace with this win or lose.

 

[Shotaro]

===================================

4am, 6 days before Kingdom Come

===================================​

The wireless headphones sit snugly on the crown of my head as I lay on the sofa. My left arm pushing against the back cushion with my hand beneath my head and my right hand draped over empty snacks and beer. Grasping the remote in my hand I lazily point it at the TV screen.

Spoiler

Cutting away to the backstage, we see the former World Tag Team Champions, Mikey Stormrage and James Howard; Strikeforce. They are walking towards the arena, set for their match:

Copeland:Well ladies and gentlemen; coming up next is a tag team turmoil match for the World Tag Team Championships. Earlier on tonight we saw Matt Tastic’s partner in the match John Constantine injured mysteriously. Last we heard things looked doubtful for his participation in this match, and that can’t bode well for--

Sebastian Copeland is cut off by a sudden corruption in the picture and the dominant noise of static. The static remains for a good few seconds before it dies totally, presenting us with a black screen.

Connor:Uh, we apologise ladies and gentlemen, we’re trying to get a camera backstage to get back to Strikeforce as they make their way towards the arena here and...

Stopping dead in her tracks, Cat Connor and everyone else observing is caught off guard by the return of the picture. What greets us is no longer a Strikeforce standing tall, but the disturbing sight of Mikey Stormrage collapsed on the floor. He is face down and clearly unconscious. The camera has been knocked to the floor and is at an awkward angle. James Howard, Stormrage’s partner is nowhere to be seen until a few seconds later when he crawls into shot, some blood dripping from a cut on his nose. Howard crawls towards his partner, holding his ribs with one arm. He leans over his partner:

Howard: Mikey? MIKEY?!? SOMEONE, HELP!

As Howard demands help, the camera cuts to static once more.

This is my routine, almost every night. It’s the only thing on the DVR that’s mine that has been watched in months. Dinah has slept alone in bed for months as I constantly crash out on the sofa, watching, watching and re-watching the moment my life began to go to hell. The night the Sacrifical Altar struck their first blow against us, the 10th August 2012, 347 days ago, Kingdom Come would be day 353.

When I close my eyes each of those three hundred and fifty four days is scorched like a tally mark on my retina. 217 days ago they tried to end my career just a week after my son was born, he’s now seven months old and he’s not seen his father smile since he was a week old.

Spoiler

Harrys: Here are your winners and the NEW WZCW World Tag Team Champions; STRIKEFORCE!

Connor: Wow... they did it! They finally recaptured the titles.

Cohen: If these guys weren't so exhausted, they'd be jumping and parading around. Great effort by these two teams.

Copeland: It was certainly a great match but the moves that these two teams created just to win this match were quite scary; a part of their minds will be left with this match from this night on.

Howard slides into the ring and helps Stormrage up to his feet, almost in tears as the referee hands them the tag team championships. Howard is very excited to hold onto these belts and hugs his partner as Saxton slowly pulls Saboteur out of the ring. Saxton and Howard catch eyes and both men nod to each other as a sign of respect. The crowd continues clapping and cheers for both teams as Saxton heads up with the ramp with a limp Saboteur whilst Howard helps Stormrage to his feet. Saxton and Saboteur thank the fans for the support as the head up the ramp and through the curtain. Howard and Stormrage hold up the tag team titles in victory and a smile on their face... but Howard's face turns from a smile into concern as he pushes Stormrage out of the way as two attackers slide into the ring and double-team Howard. It is Derek Jacobs and Mason Westhoff of the New Church leading the assault.

Copeland: What the hell is this? Can't they just leave everyone alone for once?

The attackers are teaming up on Howard with shot after shot without anything he can do. Stormrage tries to help but from another point in the crowd, The Grand Mystique appears and holds him back! Westhoff taunts him from inside the ring. The dastardly duo continue the beatdown on Howard before lifting him up and whipping him across the ring; Westhoff hits a spear on Howard with great impact. GM is forcing Mikey to watch. Jacobs immediately grabs Howard by the throat and hits Payday, slamming him into the ground. Westhoff signals for Jacobs to end this, setting up a powerbomb. Westhoff goes to the top rope; the Final Judgement connects on Howard who lands very, very awkwardly on his neck, bouncing off the canvas. Howard is not moving from that shot. The New Church look over to see what they have done as the crowd boos heavily with their faces telling that they took care of Howard too well. The Grand Mystique launches Mikey into the ring steps just as Saboteur and Saxton re-emerge from the ramp, sprinting as fast as they can to help out Howard. the New Church trio flee the ring through the crowd whence they came as Saboteur, Saxton and later Stormrage enters the ring. Mikey looks over Howard and things aren't looking too well. Saboteur and Saxton look to help but Stormrage doesn't want their help as trainers and medical personnel look over the fallen Howard. One of them holds up an X sign and a stretcher comes down the ramp.

Connor: This isn't looking good at all...

Copeland: I think James might be in a serious condition here. It looked like he landed very badly on his neck.

Cohen: I hope James isn't too hurt because landings like that could be career-ending injuries.

Copeland: And all because the New Church, seemingly now led by the crazy Grand Mystique, just want to make their presence felt. They'll get their comeuppance for this but for now, let's hope Howard is okay.

Medical personnel have strapped up Howard's neck and put him on the stretcher, carefully wheeling him out with Stormrage helping the team and telling Howard everything is going to be alright. Saboteur and Saxton follow closely behind, looking out for another New Church attack.

Copeland: ... damnit...

Connor: It's absolutely disgusting.

The camera catch up with The New Church at the back of the arena as they are surrounded by the company security who protects them from the baying crowd. The Grand Mystique ignores the bloodhungry masses and speaks.

GM: "James Howard is the next casualty of our vision but he is not the second and Steamboat Ricky was not the first. You all wanted evidence of who terrorised you at Apocalypse? You wanted a videotape?"

Copeland: Are we going to get an answer, an explanation about these events?

Cohen: Why should anyone have to explain anything to us Seabass!?

GM: "Well I've been the true driving force behind the New Church since Apocalypse. You were all so desperate to pin the blame on my brothers here but they were simply the distractions that we needed. The New Church are proud to claim responsibility for these attacks but who took Mikey Stormrage out at Apocalypse? It was ME!"

GM can barely make himself audible over the boos of the crowd but his words do carry to Saboteur and Saxton. Although the former champs are physically and mentally exhausted, it only takes one silent look between the friends for them to make chase through the crowd who instantly split for their heroes.

Connors: Saboteur and Saxton are giving chase to the New Church who have made their presence known with some authority!

Copeland: That's an understatement! They left James Howard in a broken mess and The Grand Mystique made Mikey watch! It's like the torturous events at Apocalypse are being repeated and now The New Church aren't shy of telling the world that they were behind it all!

One then the other; the two events playing like a broken record in my mind whenever I’m left alone. Dinah keeps telling me that I should stop watching them but she doesn’t get it. At this point watching them is relieving. They’re not as bad to see as they were to experience and when I’m alone, when I don’t watch them or when I’m not distracted that’s exactly what I do. The emotional punch of seeing Mikey is a downer, but remembering how merciless, ruthless and violent Derek Jacobs and Mason Westhoff were when they broke my neck is horrifying. I don’t want to think about it and yet that’s all I can do.

I’m a broken man, a broken man who has alienated his allies and family. A broken shell of a man who has only one thing to live for.

===================================

9pm the previous night

===================================​

“I’m just saying that we can’t count Jacobs out. We could be a man down before the match even starts. We’ve been training with Ricky for two weeks but there’s no guarantee he’ll be in the match.”

Training had been going well, unfortunately Mikey had only just discovered that I’ve been training with Derek Jacobs for the best part of a month.

“Ricky will come through.” He said, with an exasperated sigh.

“What if he doesn’t? What if Whitman beats him? What if he wins and the TSA decide to even the numbers by taking him out? I don’t want to work with him any more than you do but we have no other option.” I was still hyped up on adrenaline, I was aware of how confrontational I was being but too hyped up to care.

“I know, but I can’t believe you’ve been training with him since before the gauntlet match.”

“What choice did I have? Do I really have to remind you that I’ve been forced to work with the guy who broke my goddamn neck!?”

I was losing my temper, I wasn’t sure if Mikey sensed it or if what I’d said resonated, either way he sat on the apron and placed a hand on his forehead.

“No, not that it changes anything. I just don’t trust the guy. While you were in hospital it wasn’t us versus them, it was ME versus them. Mystique, Westhoff and Jacobs against one guy on his own. Sure they turned on Jacobs but he just happens to be there the same day you come back from out of nowhere. I know I’ve got to work past it but I just can’t.”

“Yeah, well you need to. I know it sucks Mikey but man the hell up or in a few days we’ll be picking up the pieces of our careers from the Kingdom Come ringside.”

Mikey got up; clearly I’d done more harm than good. For the first time in a long time he was inches away from my face. I’d seen this side of him before but this was different.

“Where the hell do you get off? I know the past few months have been tough for you as well but at least you have Dinah. You have a wife and a son and a family, do you know what I have outside of that ring? Jack shit. Outside of that ring I have a crappy apartment I barely see the inside of and that’s pretty much it.”

“All four of us are training tomorrow, see you at nine.”

With that Mikey made his way up the stairs, into the kitchen and out of the front door; slamming each door as he passed. I let loose on the punching bag and, not for the first time in its life, it wrenched the screws out of the hook in the ceiling and flew across the room. I went to the fridge, grabbed a pack of beer and my wireless headphones and turned on the TV.

===================================

4:30 am, 6 days before Kingdom Come

===================================​

I can’t go on like this; the mask is slipping further and further with each passing day. I just need to hold on for one more week, one week from now and everything will be better, it has to be.

I think.

I hope.

The idea of ‘God’ has always been alien to me, the thought of an omnipotent and omniscient man in the sky always seemed ridiculous; and yet, the last few days I’ve found myself praying. The priest at the cathedral had made it pretty clear Mikey wasn’t to visit any more; he did call The Virgin Mary a bitch, after all. I’d been every day since we met with him, he doesn’t care that I don’t believe, at least not on the surface. I realised how similar he was to D.C. I doubt he really believes in everything Mystique has to say, but he believes that Mystique is doing the right thing. He’s definitely not a zealot like Westhoff, he and D.C. pretty much declared war on each other day one and although they’ve reconciled now I doubt driving a fresh wedge would be too difficult. Then again Mystique is buried so deep in my head I doubt I’ll manage it alone.

I thought about the Supershow, how I let Mystique get into my head so easily, how I lost my temper in a heartbeat. The mind games have taken more of a toll than I’m willing to admit, though when I think about it enough to get through the fog I realise what Mystique’s mind games have really achieved; anger. Not just anger, but righteous anger. A hatred of The Sacrificial Altar so deep that I won’t rest until they’re gone, in less than a week I’ll be locked in a cage with three men I don’t just want to hurt. In less than a week I’ll be locked in a cage with three men I want to kill.

The revelation hits me like a train, I wasn’t depressed because I realised we couldn’t win. I was depressed because I was holding back. The real fighter in me wants to come out, the real fighter that has ended careers, not just come close. I’m the man who retired Aleksey Mikolov, I’m the man who sent Austin Reynolds away from recovery and towards a wheelchair. I’m the man whose neck got broken and came back. I’m no lamb. I’m a wolf. I’m a beast. I’m a hunter.

Grand Mystique thinks he’s already won, but he’s got it wrong. He’s given me cause to unleash, to show the world how dangerous a man I can really be. Grand Mystique has laid the seeds of his own downfall, of the Sacrificial Altar’s downfall. He will look into my eyes and realise all too late that whatever god he believes in cannot exist, for no god that sides with him would allow a beast like me to survive. He is not Abraham, he is not Noah, he is not Jesus; he is Herod, he is Pontious Pilate, he is Judas Iscariot and I will be his downfall.

Everything made sense, my brain was firing on all cylinders and for the next four hours I sat awake, planning the remaining few days worth of training. By the time Mikey arrived at 9am I hadn’t even realised that the sun had come up, nor that Dinah had brought me a breakfast long enough ago that it was stone cold, as was the cup of coffee she brought with it. I only realised what time it was when a friendly hand slapped my shoulder.

“Have you even been to sleep? I swear you were wearing those clothes last night.”

I turned to face Mikey, his face a forced smile of both concern and relief.

“I was; I’ve not slept.” I immediately turned around to show off my plans, which consisted of a round robin of around 10 matches and assignments to learn the moveset of one of TSA each. Scheduled matches complete with time limits, I’d even scribbled the number of Dillon Morse in the corner, along with how much I would be willing to pay him to referee for us for a couple of days during down time.

Mikey took a step back “That, that sure is something.”

“Damn right it is.” I paused for a moment and swallowed. “Look, I don’t want things to get heated again, I’ll bring the building down I think, but about Jacobs.”

“You’re right though” Mikey lilted sideways and looked at the limp punching bag in the middle of the floor. “What the hell did you do?”

“What do you think?” As if on cue the door bell rang. “That’ll be him, first match is you versus uh, Derek Jacobs.”

The match was brutal, I sat by the sidelines and watched for a while, I even had time to make a few phone calls and apologise (again) to Dinah for not coming to bed. I came downstairs and they were still at it. No matter what Mikey or Derek tried the other guy just would not stay down, eventually though after over 40 minutes Derek tapped to a submission hold I could only describe as ‘having a 300lb man stand on your trachea’

The next match I took on Jacobs, he’d come on a long way the past few weeks but he seemed to be losing momentum. During the match we discussed strategy, I say strategy, what I mean is we agreed to kick any member of TSA that was moving in the face. The idea being that nobody likes being kicked in the face. Ricky arrived around lunchtime and we spent the next few hours discussing our opponents, after we were finished we decided to head out to a bar to talk in a more sociable setting, that and I’d drank the place dry the night before.

I hung back with Mikey after Derek and Ricky left the room.

“Whatever happens man, remember we’ve beaten these guys. We’ve beaten Westhoff, we’ve beaten DC and we’ve beaten Mystique. We’re one of, if not the greatest tag team in WZCW history and we’re going out on a high.” I patted Mikey on the back as we walked together out of the training room.

“I know man, it’s been fun.”

“Damn right it has and we’re not even done yet.”

It felt for the first time in 348 days that things would be OK. Ricky could beat Whitman, Jacobs could take on D.C. and Mikey and I could go for broke and end Mystique and Westhoff once and for all.

 

[Richard Blonoff]

"Once upon a time there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. And they grew next to each other. And every day the straight tree would look at the crooked tree and he would say, 'You're crooked. You've always been crooked and you'll continue to be crooked. But look at me! Look at me!' said the straight tree. He said, 'I'm tall and I'm straight.' And then one day the lumberjacks came into the forest and looked around, and the manager in charge said, 'Cut all the straight trees.' And that crooked tree is still there to this day, growing strong and growing strange."

"My mom used to tell me that story when I would get bullied in school for being weird, for being fat, for being a nerd."

"Whatever reason it may have been, she was there to tell me that story. There were days I would come home and cry so hard I would make myself sick. There were days I came home with bloodied noses, black eyes, broken glasses, and scraped knuckles, yet there she was. Even if it was only for a couple of days it made me feel better. It always reminded me to never change due to pressure. That is the problem with me lately. Ever since Koresh over here decided to put your career in danger I haven't been myself. I changed, I took the fun out of things, I wasn't myself. I tried to straighten a crooked tree."

My story was interrupted my the waitress delivering the next round of drinks to our table.

"Hey guys, I've got two rum and cokes."

James and I both grabbed our glasses from the waitress.

"I've got a Bud Light."

Derek took his bottle from her hands.

"And I've got an entire bottle of Grey Goose."

Ricky lifts his sunglasses to wink at the waitress as he grabs the bottle.

"This going on your tab boys?"

"Yeah, thanks. Here you are, for the last few rounds."

James handed the waitress a five dollar bill and she smiled and nodded before walking away.

"Anyway, Mikey you were saying about the story?"

"No way, that story is hella lame. I'm going to go pick up some bitches."

With that Ricky stood and walked away from the table, headed to the nearest female.

"Well thanks for that I guess."

The three of us watched in awe as Ricky immediately walked to the next table, bottle of vodka in hand, and pulled out his cell phone and pretend to talk on it before smacking it a few times.

"What's wrong with your phone?"

The young woman sitting at the table inquired to Ricky.

"Your number isn't in it girl."

The woman looked disgusted and turned away. Ricky repeated this with each woman in line until a particularly disgusted woman slapped him, knocking his sunglasses to the floor, breaking them. Ricky pulled a pair of spare sunglasses from his jacket and continued onward.

"That guy is something else."

James took a sip from his drink and continued.

"Mikey, I know you and Derek have had your differences, but if you want to see this thing through then you have to put them aside."

I took a large drink and slammed the empty glass on the table, my eyes never leaving Jacobs.

"I know what I did, I'm not going to try to hide it. I can't outrun my past. I know I can't ever make up for what I did, all I ask is a chance to undo some of the wrong."

The tall, intimidating Derek Jacobs sat well above the back of his chair. The small scar above his eye seemed to grow larger the longer I stared. The last time I was this close to him voluntarily I planted a chair hard across his head. Part of me wanted to reach across the table and strangle him. The other part of me, the part that had receded into the deepest part of my brain, the part that people had grown to love, wanted to forgive him. I took my time, refusing to speak. I took the glass that James had just sat on the table and finished it off myself.

"Derek, the day I need a friend like you, I will take a nice little squat and shit one out."

I could see the anger in his eyes as he gripped the neck of his beer tightly.

"But, I can't do this alone. I don't have much left in this world, but I know you've got my back, and in this business that says a lot."

He eased up and I extended my hand to him across the table. He shook it with a firm grip, then reached for his beer and toasted.

"To Strikeforce!"

James and I raised our empty glasses to Derek's bottle.

"Strikeforce!"

The three of us shouted in unison. A couple of seconds later we heard from across the bar, "Strikeforce!" We looked over and saw Ricky yelling, his unopened bottle of Grey Goose raised high above his head. He turned back to the girl he was talking again, his cell phone suddenly giving him problems again.

"Got to love that guy."

"He is something else."

Derek just shook his head as he took another sip of his beer. We were an unlikely group of heroes, though I shuttered to use the word hero. I was no hero. I was no knight in shining armor. A knight with shining armor had never had his armor tested in battle. The Almighty knew I had seen many battles over the last year. I had witnessed friends fall around me, former enemies turn to allies, and I finally grew to know what evil truly could be.

The waitress came around and asked if we were ready for another round. James and Derek nodded yes, but I decided to take a short break and step outside. They could bill this as The Sacrificial Altar versus Team Strikeforce all they wanted, but in the end everyone knew it was Grand Mystique vs. Mikey Stormrage. Mystique enjoyed causing suffering and pain. Until I came face to face with him I never understood evil. Mystique was evil. He made a fatal mistake however. He toyed with me when he should have slain me. That mistake would be his last.

 

[Thriller Ant]

I didn’t think it would have to come to this, Mason.

The scene opens in a dark hotel room. The Grand Mystique stands, barely visible, near the curtains pulled across the windows. On the other side of the room sits Brother Mason Westhoff, angrily running his hands through his hair.

And you think I did? When you first mentioned bringing more people to the Altar, I could not have been happier. I’ve always trusted you, Mystique, but after dealing with DC, I don’t know if I can continue to do so.

The night we finalized our plans for the Altar, do you recall who the three men were that I said would fall before us once Ricky was gone?

Brother Westhoff is hesitant to answer, unsure of where The Grand Mystique is trying to lead him.

Strikeforce and Derek Jacobs.

And why them?

Stormrage’s gluttony, Howard’s wrath, and Jacobs’ envy. All are embodiments of a deadly sin.

Precisely. You trusted me when I told you of this.

Of course.

Now, what does this have to do with you and DC?

Brother Westhoff sits forward in his chair, ready to finally hear why Mystique was so determined to have the two men work together.

You trusted me when I told you of my plan to bring him in.

Of course.

And Whitman, you believe that he has been more than adequate thus far, and holds the potential to be in the future?

Yes.

Each answer from Brother Westhoff is more curt than the last.

Do you trust him to beat Ricky Runn?

Yes.

Do you trust DC?

…Yes.

Do you…

No!

Brother Westhoff interrupts Grand Mystique with a loud yell, and finds himself standing in front of the now turned over chair he sat in moments ago.

I don’t trust DC and as much as it truly hurts me to say this, I don’t trust you and your decisions. How can I? Everything’s been a struggle since he showed up; we couldn’t exploit Strikeforce’s distrust of Derek, we can’t be in a match together without one of us laying out the other, and the balance of the match is in the hands of a guy you brought in two weeks ago without consulting me.

Spin it however you want, but we both know The Sacrificial Altar was designed as a partnership between Brother Mason Westhoff and The Grand Mystique, with everyone else being secondary. I don’t know if this is just some sort of power grab, but I will be damned before you try and run this without me!

An awkward silence falls over the room. Brother Westhoff opens his mouth to say something, but is beaten to the punch by Mystique.

I really didn’t think you had the courage, Mason.

Excuse me?

The courage to admit you had lost your faith in me. I don’t know if you were unable to tell me, or even unable to tell yourself, but it’s been clear for weeks that you don’t believe in what I say or do.

Mystique, I…

Mason, please. Turn your chair back upright and have a seat so I can explain.

Brother Westhoff’s face is a mix of anger and confusion, but he does as The Grand Mystique asks.

You’ve always said that your strongest asset is your faith. Am I correct?

Without a doubt.

There is an issue with that assessment, however.

And what is that?

You allow your faith to go unchallenged. Everything I would tell you would go nearly unquestioned and your faith in The Almighty has always been completely under your control.

I knew before we were anywhere close to securing DC for The Sacrificial Altar that the two of you would struggle to get along. That’s why it took so long for it to happen. I had to weigh whether or not it was worth the risk to bring him in.

So what made you decide to do it?

You, Mason.

The three possible outcomes I foresaw were you revolting and leaving the Altar altogether, you trudging through until you found some common ground with DC, or you coming to yell at me. I was extremely confident that you wouldn’t throw away everything we’ve done because you didn’t like someone, so I almost immediately disposed of the idea of you leaving. Once that happened, my decision was easy.

As you well know, Brother Westhoff, untested faith isn’t faith at all. That’s why you needed DC. You needed a reminder of what faith is all about. When you stare across the ring at Jacobs, Stormrage, and Howard, what do you see?

I see three men fighting to defend their sinful ways.

Exactly what I was trying to save you from becoming.

How so?

The anger is gone from Brother Westhoff’s face, as it now contains a look of pure confusion.

Pride. By telling people to go out and be faithful without challenging yourself, you positioned yourself as superior to those you preached to. By making you fight once more, your faith will be stronger than ever if you can find it. By allowing yourself to be humbled in this way, you be even stronger for the showdown with Strikeforce and Jacobs.

I can’t convince you to understand, Mason, but I promise that I did this for the benefit of the Altar.

Brother Westhoff sits quietly with a blank look on his face. He opens his mouth a couple times to speak, but the words don’t come, until he is finally able to quietly spit out two sentences.

Thank you, Mystique. It’s time for Strikeforce and Jacobs to become the ultimate sacrifice.

The scene fades to black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

The convention center is filled with thousands of WZCW fans taking in all the events at WrestleZone Weekend. Suddenly, a man climbs onto one of the empty stages and begins shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention this way! Your salvation is at stake!

The man is none other than Brother Mason Westhoff. The crowd turns toward him, with most of them beginning to boo when they realize who is addressing them.

Tomorrow at Kingdom Come, the biggest show of the year, The Sacrificial Altar will end Strikeforce and Derek Jacobs once and for all.

The crowd begins booing even louder. Brother Westhoff, the master orator, continues speaking, knowing the crowd will quiet down so they can hear him.

I know that many of you will be rooting against the scenario I just presented. That’s understandable, since most of you are afraid.

He pauses once more for booing, this time using the opportunity to adjust his tie and suit coat.

You are afraid because you see yourselves in Strikeforce and Jacobs. The wrath of James Howard. The gluttony of Mikey Stormrage. The envy of Derek Jacobs. I’m here to tell you that there is another way. For wrath there is patience, for gluttony there is temperance, and for envy there is kindness.

The Sacrificial Altar is patience, temperance, kindness. At Kingdom Come, Strikeforce and Derek Jacobs will placed upon the Altar for your salvation.

Brother Westhoff walks off away, leaving the crowd to boo at an empty stage as the scene fades to black.

 

[TheRealDC]

*Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth! In Anaheim, California, there is a chuck of land that humanity has claimed, bulldozed, and erected a little piece or heaven. Or so they'd like to think they did. Suffice to say that the Magic Kingdom has its fair share of skeletons in the closet. That is neither here nor there, because today, is a special day. Today is the three year birthday of DC and Lindsey's daughter, Mandee.

DC and Lindsey are shown in a sun soaked parking lot, walking towards Disneyland but not towards the front gates like everyone else. DC has sought out a more secure entrance, with help from Eli. DC is wearing a black tshirt with fades jeans. White rim sunglasses on, and diamond stud earrings. Lindsey is wearing a spaghetti strapped top with Dopey on the front, and a cut off jean skirt and skate shoes. Her blonde hair is down but held away from her face by stunner shades, with a long thin platinum chain that rests on her space mountains (GET IT!?). Lastly, little Mandee is wearing her favorite Disney princess outfit, she's dressed up like Sleeping Beauty, tiara and all. A small little pink puff out dress and white elbow length dress gloves. Mandee walks between Lindsey and DC as they are both holding her hands as she skips along.*

This is ******ed...

*Lindsey is already giving up. She throws her hands in the air as if signifying "why did I even bother". Letting go of Mandee, she places her palms on her forehead and motions her hair back into a ponytail.*

You could at least make the most of this, this isn't about you or me today... Please?

We... Todd... It...

*DC can't help but laugh as his daughter skips around, oblivious to what the word means. Lindsey scoffs at DC as she leans down and whispers to Mandee that that is a bad word.

As they approach a fence that has a thick screen of foliage grown onto it, a man dressed in a suit with sunglasses on stands oddly in front of it. He nods towards the trio and manages a smile beyond his imposing figure. He kneels down towards the ground.*

Welcome to Disneyland. Your parents say it's your birthday today, and we have a very special treat for you.

*Mandee beams with glee as she sways back and forth, blushing at the thought of the surprise.*

But there is someone that wants to meet you...

*With that, as if on que, a hidden door in the overgrowth of green opens up and out of it comes...*

SWEEPING BOOTY!

*Mandee loses it! She runs up and for all the strength a three year old can muster, tries to tackle the blond to the ground. Obviously though, "Sleeping Beauty" is used to this treatment.*

Oh dear! How are you?! I hear there is a birthday celebration at my castle for a princess.

*She has it down pat, all the way to the plastic smile she wears.*

You must be princess...

WETODIT!

*The regal smile that was worn on that pretty face of Sleeping Beauty has since been replaced with a terrible fake smile. As she shakes her head. She kneels down to Mandee who still has the biggest grin on her face imaginable. Lindsey, is silent and still, burning a hole through DC with her stare. DC, is shaking violently from silent laughter.*

That is not how a princess speaks...

*This chicks good, managing to keep that squeaky princess voice from the movie. She shakes her head at Mandee, with puckered lips doing this "tisk tisk" noise.*

What is your name my dear?

Mandee

Well Mandee, let us be off then...

*Mandee turns to her parents. DC eyes are hidden but they are shut as he still is shaking. His left arm across his chest and right arm blocking the smile across his face. Lindsey on the other hand is playing along. Her smile matches Mandees as she kneels down. Mandee is now between a kneeling Sleeping Beauty and Lindsey.*

Go on Mandee!

Let's go!

*It would be a sweet story to say Mandee runs to her mother refusing to leave, but kids are assholes. Mandee runs past Sleeping Beauty and through the hidden door. Beauty trots closely behind, pausing only to glance back at DC and Lindsey.*

Will the parents of the princess be joining us until the party?

*She bats her eyes, giving them the heaping dose of medicine that is Disney Princess acting. To which both DC and Lindsey reply with an awkward silence of mumbles and "well... Umm". Before finally cooperatively shaking their heads.*

...No? Is that okay?

*Beauty nods and curtsies.*

Then we shall see you at the lady's party at one o'clock.

*Beauty turns and walks through the doorway as well. The man in the suit holds his arm out to DC and Lindsey allowing them passage through his magical door. They enter as well, as Beauty is seen entering Cinderella's carriage. Mandee is two hands on the window sill looking around giddier then a... three year old?*

BYE MOMMY! BYE DADDY!

*With that the driver snaps the reigns on two white horses, dressed for the occasion, and they make their way towards the castle. DC and Lindsey wave bye to their daughter.*

You don't think it's odd that we've just placed the life of our three year old in the hands of complete strangers?

Are you kidding me, they do this s*** all the time. They got security here that CCTV would be jealous of.

*DC and Lindsey finally turn around as the carriage winds it's way down the street. Kids, adults, old people, and cartoon character costumed employees litter the view. The noise of multiple conversations all going on at once is the only sound. For anyone who has not been into Disneyland before, the group is inside the fence behind what would be Tomorrowland, a futuristic themed portion of the park. This is where Space Mountain is and where...*

We're going on Star Tours.

*...Star Tours is. It is a ride based around the Star Wars movies in which passengers board a shuttle bound for the forrest moon of Endor, but end up in varying scenarios of danger. The pilot for all intents and purposes, is an idiot, and light speeds the shuttle towards eminent danger. Best. Ride. Ever.*

You're such a child...

I'm not the one in a horse and buggy going to have tea and biscuits with Mickey and Minnie.

You're right... But you would take a camel walker (AT-AT) to meet Boba Fett and Darth Vader...

...so?

*The joke is just about the first sign of normalcy for these two. As they seem to share the moment amidst all the chaos. They begin to walk down the street, just side by side not holding hands or anything of the sort. DC places his hands in his pockets.*

So Kingdom Come is coming up...

Oh? And is that a big deal?

*D raises his eyebrows a little at Lindsey.*

It's the "Crowning Glory" of WZCW. I thought you watched?

I don't watch every show! We kind of have a daughter. She doesn't like watching grown men in underwear yet, when she can rather watch cartoons on Netflix.

She watches Netflix that late at night? You really want me to bel-

Who cares, at least I'm there with her.

*Lindsey says this rather quietly, not wanting to cause a scene, but obviously wanting to walk down this metaphorical road with D. He doesn't respond right away, just shakes his head.*

Look, one of us has to make money. The account is starting to run low and taking bookings from anyone doesn't exactly cover it. This is the one thing I'm good at!

Is that why you haven't won a single match yet?

I thought you said you didn't watch?

Not, every, show...

*She says it with a bit of a sway. She watches, just doesn't want to be that invested into it. Her play off though has been seen through as DC cracks a small smile.*

So... Did you watch the Super Show?

Where Hasselhoff cost you your pin?

Yeah... I don't know what's wrong with me lately. It's like...

*D kind of looks around, like he suspects someone is watching and/or listening. He leans towards Lindsey.*

Like, I want to strangle the s*** out of Mason for that. But I can't. It's like something... Is constantly crawling in my brain and keeping me from just wigging out.

*He chuckles to himself as he gets closer towards Lindsey. He gently rests his hands in her shoulders.*

I had Mikey beaten in that ring. All that was left was to hit the Ten on him.

*DC shuts his eyes. His hands raising up towards Lindsey's neck.*

That's all that was left to do. But he slid in. He slid in and grabbed that chair and right then and there I should have dropped him... I should have f***ing dropped him and proved my point...

*D seems to be fighting something. A complete contrast of the cool demeanor he was showing a few seconds ago. His head shakes as he is essentially mumbling. Lindsey grabs his hands as he doesn't seem to be letting go.*

D...

*Like a camera flash DC snaps out of it. He doesn't even realize where his hands are as they go limp and rest back on Lindsey's shoulders almost lifelessly. D quickly removes his hands as a couple passerby look on. But they mosey on by. DC is swearing slightly as Lindsey looks on with a troubled gaze.*

You back? The hell was that?

*As D struggles to find the answer he's looking for he again looks around suspiciously. As his eyes frantically search for something they lock on to something quite peculiar. There's a Crystal Ball in a gypsy themed gift shop, not but a few feet away. DC eyes it, and again, his head begins to ache. He steps away and grabs Lindsey's hand. He plays it off, laughing at the idiotic thoughts creeping in his mind.*

Whatever the f*** that was, we're getting away from that noise.

*Lindsey pulls her hand out of DC's grip. She stands still with a scared look. She's not really doing anything but standing there.*

Are you okay?

...no.

*DC slumps into a bench along the street. He looks like a lost little puppy, but can't help but smile as if the world was a Disney ride itself. He glares around, locking eyes with Goofy. Or at least someone in a costume. Goofy, is pointing right at him, doing the "omg" ear cover pose. He can't talk, it's breaking character. But whoever is in there is in a frenzy. DC shakes his head as Lindsey comes to his side.*

I think you should leave...

*He looks up, expecting a concerned look on Lindsey's face, but is instead met with a pissed look. Lindsey has crossed her arms and is standing with a purpose.*

This is the second time now you've come to see us. Twice you've came by, and twice you've found a way to pawn Mandee off so you could play this card on me. Guess what?

*Lindsey leans in by DC's ear.*

I'm not buying it this time.

What? Play what card?

*Lindsey mocks with her hands a bunch of fairy sparkles or something, with jazz hands.*

"I'm going crazy without you. Oh, GM is planting bugs in my brain."

*She stops, and places a hand on DC's knee.*

Whatever is left of the man that I knew, walked out on his wife and daughter three years ago. I can't tell if you're pretending to go crazy, or if maybe you actually are. But if you're off in some little Lala Land, then you're not here in reality with us...

*She stands straight up.*

Maybe you shouldn't have come back. Because you barely want to spend time with your daughter. If you're too good for her, then you're not good enough for me...

*D, once again faced with the scenario of Lindsey not cutting him any breaks, doesn't know what to say. He just sits there, blank faced and numb. Lindsey rolls her eyes, she wants to walk away, her body language is saying as much.*

I think you need to figure this out on your own. I'm not having any part of this.

*With that, this time she does begin to walk away.*

Babe...

*D calls out to her, but instead of stopping she simply turns around, continuing to walk backwards, and flips him off. He slumps on the bench. Again, just overly numb to this. This must be what it felt like for her. The thought barely grazes his mind as his brow starts to lower.

His eyes once again wander and he spots it again, the crystal ball. He shakes his head, running his hands together as he does so. Minutes pass as DC deals with a sense of loss and confusion as his eyes are locked into that ball. This is stupid and he knows it is, but he stands up, and paces ever so slightly. Never breaking eye contact with the sphere. He gathers himself, looks around once more and begins to walk towards it.*

Alright motherf***er...

*As DC approaches the object, his head begins to ache. His body begins to burn from inside. Once he's as close as he once was the throbbing headache overtakes him until his eyes are shut.

The crowd noise dies. There is nothing to be heard. D slowly begins to open his eyes as he is standing in front of the shop. Time has seemed to stand still.*

Alright!

*He barks out, a reluctant chuckle at the end of his tone.*

I lost the last thing I had over you!

*He catches a glimpse of the Grand Mystique standing behind him in the reflection of the glass. DC turns around, wiping his hand across his mouth.*

I'm supposed to believe in some form of power now?

You need only believe in our cause DC.

Enough with the damn riddles!

*DC shakes his head, throwing his hands up.*

You wanted me to come in and do great things for you, all without explaining it. You're just telling me that people sin, and we should make those people pay. Then you tell me I'm a sinner! Then you WANT me to sin... Except you don't let me finish what I started.

*He walks up to GM, getting face to face with him again. But instead of being pissed off or in a fury, DC is just humbled. He's not even fighting it anymore. GM nods, a searing smirk behind the mask crawls across his face. *

You haven't won anything because of your ego. You cannot be allowed a victory because of your pride. You cannot be trusted with responsibility because of your selfishness. All of these things I've tried to show you to make you a better weapon. You could claim I'm at fault for all of your shortcomings, but make no mistake, I've done so with purpose and intent.

*GM begins to circle around DC.*

Strikeforce and Jacobs is just the beginning. This match isn't something as simple as a wrestling match. This is the building blocks of a war. The masses follow what they can't stop. The four of us standing on the ashes of burnt hopes and dreams, begins and ends with everyone understanding their role and part to play in the Alter. You have been the most troubling person in this group without a doubt...

* GM finally stops in front of DC.*

But did you really not see this coming DC? I've tried to prepare you, tried to steer you away from any form of guilt or shame. But you've not learned a thing! You blame others! Throw it in our faces like we are the cause of your pain and misery.

*Now DC is getting pissed as he clinches his fist and lowers his head.*

Howard out matched you. Strikeforce broke you. Saxton and Saboteur outsmarted you. Stormrage defied you. You couldn't work alongside your brothers. It is not their fault!

So what? It's just as simple as falling in line?

*There is seconds of pause as GM looks at DC. D finally raises his head up to meet eye to eye with GM.*

...yes, it is that simple.

Fine. You win.

*D glances past GM, looking at his own reflection. They meet eyes once again.*

I don't have anything left anyway... If this is what you wanted all along then why didn't you just say so, huh? Why all the bulls***!? Why couldn't you just look me in the eye and tell me you didn't want DC, you just needed a weapon?

*DC gets in GMs face again, but this time, they both know what it means. There is finally an understanding to the call.*

All I ever needed... Was the sacrifice...

*DC shuts his eyes, letting out a hefty breath of air. The words slap him across the face more then any hand could.*

Then what do you want me to do?

Fight with us, not for us, not against us. With us!

*DC opens his eyes as the world flashes back. The crowd noise is almost defining to his ears. As he looks around he is still standing in front of the window where the crystal ball is being displayed. He takes a step back from it as a few people gander at the sight of him. Unsure if the world did stop turning or if it was all in his head, DC turns away. He scrambles for the exit in a quickened walk. As he makes the final cut towards the hidden door he manages to catch a glimpse of Lindsey who is walking back towards where they were. He stops, but only for a second, and then pushes on. She doesn't see him, he's not even sure if he wanted her to.

Fade to black.*