MD86: The Sacrificial Altar vs. Mikey Stormrage & Triple X

[Viola Moonlight]

Despite the absence of WZCW's Eurasian champion Rush, two new contenders were crowned when Triple X & Mason Westhoff simultaneously pinned Mister Alhazred in Tag Team action. These two will be returning to a 2 vs. 2 contest but on opposites sides as Westhoff teams up with the leader of the Sacrificial Altar, Grand Mystique. Triple X will be forced to team with Mikey Stormrage, a man hell-bent on retribution against the Altar for their actions, getting tangled in the middle of this long rivalry. Do not expect a fair and balanced contest here, folks - strap yourselves in for this one.

Deadline is Tuesday March 26, 2013 at 11:59 PM (Central). Extensions as per request thread.​

 

[Viola Moonlight]

Mikey Stormrage has been granted a 24 hour extension.

 

[a0161613]

Click......click......whirr....

“So Derek.”

Silence

“Look at me Derek.”

“I see him everywhere Doc.” The voice sounds rough, hoarse and tired. “It’s not bad enough that I could hear his voice when I slept but he’s now everywhere I look.”

“Derek.” This voice is calm, patient but assertive. “Listen to me.” Nothing. “Derek!”

“Doc!” Panic has set in and the doctors’ words have no effect.

“The masked man is not haunting you in any way, shape or form. He is a figment of your imagination; your damaged consciousness is playing tricks on you. Focus on my voice Derek. Let my voice bring you back to a safe place. He cannot hurt you anymore.”

______
XXXXXX

We see a dark, candleit area. In the limited light, we see an archway that holds a parapet. Two hulking shadowy figures stand over two smaller hooded individuals.

“You have been summoned here because you have potential though you have failed to realise it. You will continue to fail unless you heed our words and even then it may not be enough to save you. Do you accept your role?”

“Yes.”

“Will you entrust us with your Destiny?”

“Entirely.”

“The Sacrificial Altar will be lined with your blood if you fail but the blood of our enemies will cleanse it when we succeed. We will support you as you endeavour to crush those who oppose us and we will place your soul on the Altar should you choose to be ignorant.”

The solemn responses are instant and affirmative, exactly what was expected. There is no rewarding pat on the back, barely even a nodding acknowledgement. Except we see the larger man step forward and address the two disciples.

“Your first tasks are quite simple.”

The larger men step further into the light and reveal themselves as the leaders of The Sacrificial Altar.
______
XXXXXX

In the same room, we see Mason Westhoff and The Grand Mystique sitting opposite each other .

“We need to spread our word sire. We have a just prophecy that needs to be brought to a wider audience. Our crusade against misguided idols like Strikeforce and the false prophets like Steamboat Ricky has been utterly successful but our message has been lost in translation and misconstrued by WZCW management.”

“The answer is simple. You have made arrangements to meet with one of WZCW’s message brokers.”

“Yes. With -”

“It doesn’t matter who. The significance of our words cannot be lost.”

GM’s words are solemn, dispassionate. Mason speaks with a more effusive tone.

“Sir, I’ve have chosen this person specifically because they have been used a patsy by countless WZCW superstars in the past. He will be a suitable choice at this point.”

“The people need to be forced to heed our words ahead of our respective futures.”

“It’s quite sad that Mikey Stormrage will demand another match with you sire. His gluttony has known no limits and this blind desire to have more will end up with more excruciating pain than he has ever known. He seems to have gathered some courage together while he has been cowering in corners but this talk of impending storms seems to be a lot of hot air and bluster on his part.”

“Such traits mean he is the perfect partner for Triple X. The flunkie who has had a dalliance with greater ambition and failed; why should he and Stormrage concern us on our path to glory?”

“A super team that has been put together by WZCW management to try and hold down our destiny but they couldn’t hold back the true fate brought on by the Roulette.”

“This is the power of destiny Brother Mason. You were chosen to be a contender for the Eurasian championship and nothing is going to stop you now; just like I was chosen to sacrifice Jimmy Flynn as a display of brutal power on my part. You now have the chance to make history and bring prestige to the Altar. You can bring us an honour and it will all be thanks to true Destiny. Your victory will draw more to our cause, those who see the light cannot fail to be enlightened when they see your waist decorated by that championship.”

“Your faith is astounding my liege.”

“Faith is power Brother Mason.”

______
XXXXXX

“This is Leon Kensworthy and I’m here with the men formerly known as The New Church and -”

“You forgot to mention how dominant we have been in recent months. And Leon, please give us our correct name.”

“I’m with Mason -”

“Brother Mason Westhoff.”

The three men stand in front of WZCW livery. Leon tries his best to put on a brave face but it’s clear he is not content in his surroundings. Two hulking beast sandwich him and add to his discomfort.

“And The Grand Mystique, who I’d like to start with.” Leon looks at GM nervously but doesn’t make eye contact with the masked monster. “You have been in dominant form in recent weeks and made a victim out of Jimmy Flynn last week but I want to begin with your appearance on Meltdown.”

GM makes no attempt to speak. Instead Mason grabs Leon’s mic and pulls it towards him. Leon looks confused.

“My liege was simply looking at his next victim. You see Mikey Stormage talks a good game but he lacks true faith. He doesn’t know true belief.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he applauded Mikey after his match with Ricky Runn does it?” Leon again directs his mic to GM but doesn’t resist when Mason drags it toward him once more.

“The Sacrificial Altar doesn’t have to explain itself to you or anyone Leon. Is it not enough that as a leading competitor himself, The Grand Mystique, can appreciate an extremely promising performance. Of course Mikey Stormrage is not on our level but very few are. His match simply shows that he has a lot of potential. Maybe he needs a push in the right direction and maybe, we are the ones who can help with that.”

“You think Mikey needs help? From you?” Leon looks quizzically at both men as his instinct to ask questions override his fear.

The Grand Mystique, a emotionless statue until this point, comes alive. He grins devilishly and just nods slowly. Leon looks petrified but Mason stands next to his leader as the two men are a picture of intimidation and coercion.

 

[Richard Blonoff]

I sat alone backstage after the show. The only thing going through my head was Grand Mystique's brief appearance after my match. I knew I had needed a win and told myself going in that no matter who I drew as my opponent I would give them hell, but I hadn't expected to be matched against Runn. He was a guy I could call a friend, but something inside me threw all that out the window when the bell rang. It was like something had consumed me. Anger. I was still afraid, but I was learning to like it. No longer would I be a joke or a sidekick, I would be a force, a juggernaut of unstoppable power.

I was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. One of the ring crew let me know they were about to clear out for the evening. I stood up and went to the locker room to collect my things. I checked the time on my phone and saw that it was already after midnight, but I was getting hungry. On the drive back to my hotel I saw a small twenty four hour diner and went inside. I ordered a soda and a cheeseburger and sat in silence. The few patrons who were there paid me no mind, a pleasant surprise. My meal arrived and I ate in silence, paid my bill, and drove to my hotel. My accommodations this week were much more luxurious than the week before, but I had trouble falling asleep.

My mind was still racing with thoughts of what I had done to Ricky in our last match. The guy was my friend, and I treated him like he was any random opponent. Aside from his nearly killing me with a car, he had done nothing to me. Regardless I still went full out, and it drew the attention of Mystique. Was this what he wanted, to see me abandon my friends? To embrace my rage? It was one thing to yell at twelve year kids while playing Halo, it was another altogether to beat up Ricky in the manner I did.

I finally managed to drift off to sleep sometime around four in the morning.

"I have no delusions of divinity. We are men, not gods. Man is his own god, his own devil, his own death."

I could heard the voice, but I could not find it. I searched through what felt like infinite darkness, but no matter how far it seemed I walked, I made no progress.

"Where are you? Who are you?"

I called out as I ran through the darkness.

"You know what you must do Michael, you must embrace the anger, embrace the hatred, put an end to Mystique and Westhoff. They must pay for their sins, pay for their crimes, not only against you, but against the entire company. You were not the first victim, but you could be the last."

"Who are you?"

I continued to walk through the infinite darkness, searching for the the source of the voice.

"You are trying my patience Michael. You know what you must do. If you cut off the head, the body dies. If you eliminate Mystique, then Westhoff will wither away. He is nothing more than an errand boy. I know, you know, even Westhoff himself knows, that ultimately he is nothing more than Mystique's bitch. If you eliminate Mystique, you eliminate Westhoff and all of their influence."

"What do you mean, eliminate?"

The voice boomed louder than it had been before.

"You know damn well what I mean Michael! We want him dead! When I say "dead," I mean seriously dead. Beaten, broken. His head mounted on our wall kind of dead!"

I stopped walking.

"We? Our?"

Suddenly the figure behind the voice appeared in front of me, and I was shocked. The man behind the voice was me.

I shot up in bed as I awoke. I checked the time and saw that I had been asleep for the better part of thirteen hours and was in danger of showing up to Ascension late. I had already had my match on Meltdown, but we were required to attend all shows unless otherwise noted. Besides, I never knew what Mystique and Westhoff may be up to.

After an uneventful Ascension, and barely missing my chance to get my hands on Mystique yet again on Aftershock, the next few days were a blur. The only constant was my recurring dream and my house show partner.

A few days ago I had gotten a phone call informing me that I would be teaming with Triple X on this weeks Meltdown and a smile crept on my face. X was a good guy, and a hell of a competitor in the ring, with a motor that wouldn't quit. It would be fun, something I hadn't been able to relate to wrestling for some time. When I heard we would be facing The Sacrificial Altar, my smile widened. X and I worked out a schedule where we would team together on a string of house shows against local competitors, culminating in a show in Baltimore where we were scheduled to do an interview before our match.

A single camera man followed the trio of Triple X, Becky Serra, and myself to an open area backstage, just a few feet from the curtain. X and I flanked her as she and the cameraman adjusted a few things on their equipment. Once they were ready the cameraman began his countdown before sending it to Becky to begin.

"Serra: I'm here tonight with two of the brightest young stars in WZCW, Triple X and Mikey Stormrage. Gentlemen, you have been paired together to take on The Sacrificial Alter this week on Meltdown, and in preparation you have decided to team together for a string of house shows. I have to ask you first, X, how does having a partner with the tag team experience of Stormrage feel?"

"X: It is great Becky. When you think of the great tag teams this business has seen, Strikeforce is definitely towards the top. I think my speed is a great compliment to his powerhouse style, the two of us get on well, and he knows tag team wrestling, something I'm not as well versed it."

Serra turned her attention to me. I felt a bit more relaxed than I had in recent weeks, almost as if I was in control of my anger, not the other way around.

"Mikey, obviously your singles career has hit some snags, but you have to be excited at the prospect of teaming with someone who has a record as good as Triple X."

"Stormrage: Well those were some kind words, but I have to say that X is a guy who deserves equal, if not greater praise than myself. He has been able to do something, that until recently, I haven't had much success with, and that is winning one on one contests. I think we can only benefit from this experience."

"You both seem to be on the same page, and surely it will be needed as you take on two ruthless competitors in Mason Westhoff and Grand Mystique."

I started to open my mouth, but X was just a tad quicker.

"We are both in this for different reasons, but we have a common goal. I can't imagine going through what Mikey has had to endure, he wants his shot at revenge. I'm going to be facing Westhoff and Rush with the EurAsian title on the line, I want to prove to everyone I still belong in the upper echelon of this company."

"Do you feel at a disadvantage though? Rush is sure to have Sam Smith as his backup, and no doubt Grand Mystique will be lurking in the shadows for Westhoff."

Again I began to talk, but again X was quicker, and he jumped right it. I began to become annoyed.

"We thought about this, and the two of us have agreed to watch each others back for the time being. We have all witnessed what all four of those men are capable of, and we both agree it will be easier to go about our business without looking over our shoulder twenty four seven."

"Obviously nothing can prepare you for the type of competitors..."

I cut Becky off, grabbing the mic from her hand.

"Nothing we do and nothing we say will prepare us for Westhoff and Mystique. I have first hand experience. They are both conniving bastards and will stop at nothing to see their vision implemented. When I saw I was teaming with X this week I smiled for the first time in a while. He is a great guy, a guy I can call a friend and I will gladly watch his back and trust him to watch mine, but nothing will stop me from getting my revenge. I will get my hands on Mystique this Saturday, and if I have to go through X to get to him, I won't hesitate to do so."

I dropped the mic and walked through the curtain to the ring, leaving X and Becky standing clueless. I was already in the ring by the time my music hit.

 

[Thriller Ant]

You think Mikey needs help? From you?

The Grand Mystique, an emotionless statue until this point, comes alive. He grins devilishly and just nods slowly. Leon looks petrified but Brother Westhoff stands next to his leader as the two men are a picture of intimidation and coercion.

Mikey Stormrage is a name that has been connected with The Sacrifcial Altar for many weeks now, and for good reason. We have done just about everything we could to destroy him. Yet, despite all of our efforts and all logic, he won’t stay down. I speak for both of us when I say that we’ve gained some admiration toward Mr. Stormrage’s new attitude that we helped to draw out of him. Say what you will about The Sacrificial Altar, Mr. Kensworth, but our sacrifices are for an overall good. Mikey Stormrage has evolved from an afterthought in Strikeforce to a well-respected and dangerous singles competitor. He may not have completely accepted it yet, but Mr. Stormrage will thank us for what we’ve done for him one day.

That actually makes sense, in a twisted kind of way. I take it that Grand Mystique will not be speaking today?

The Mastermind of The Sacrificial Altar will not speak because his actions speak for him. You said it yourself, Mr. Kensworth, Grand Mystique was dominant last week. What could he say that would be more powerful than that?

I must say that I’m surprised to hear that coming from a preacher, such as yourself.

Grand Mystique likes to let his actions speak for themselves, whereas I enjoy speaking the praises of The Almighty and my liege whenever I can. Different people are put here by The Almighty for different purposes, Mr. Kensworth.

With confirmation that The Grandy Mystique won't be speaking, Leon slowly turns more toward Brother Westhoff. After making sure there was no negative reaction from the giant man behind him, Leon continues the interview.

Understood. In your tag match this week, Mikey’s partner is, Triple X, who is also your co-contender for the EurAsian Championship, Brother Westhoff. Have you learned anything about him after teaming up last week?

Triple X is exactly the kind of person that needs salvation. He is an addict from a broken home, yet the fans keep giving him his fix week after week as he keeps taking bigger and bigger risks. It only takes one mistake, like wet ropes or a bad landing, for it all to go away. The adrenaline that he relies on to get out of bed every day will be gone forever and he’ll be forced to go back to drugs, because that’s what addicts do. When one source is gone, they move onto the next. So what’s the best way to stop an addict, Mr. Kensworth?

Leon opens his mouth to answer, but Brother Westhoff begins speaking again before Leon can.

You take away his drug. Grand Mystique and I have the kind of size and strength that gives people like Triple X nightmares. The only flying he’ll do will be the result of us throwing him around the ring. We know we can defeat Mikey Stormrage, and I have no doubts that we’ll be able to take care of Triple X in similar fashion.

If I may change the subject a bit, you will have an opportunity at your first singles title, presumably in a triple threat match against Triple X and the EurAsian Champion, Rush. May I have your thoughts on that match?

I actually have a degree of respect for Rush. Those who came before us deserve respect, and Rush has done nothing to cross me. As with the tag match this week, Triple X will have 2 opponents that he cannot match up with and as great as his run has been, I am quite confident that I will lay the EurAsian Title across the altar as a sacrifice to The Almighty. We are growing, Mr. Kensworth. Growing in power, growing in influence, and growing in numbers. The Sacrificial Altar cannot be stopped.

With that, Brother Westhoff and The Grand Mystique make their exit. Leon, who was preparing a follow-up question to Brother Westhoff’s final statement, can do nothing but shrug his shoulders at the camera as the scene fades to black.

 

[BK Styles]

X: I’m not running away.

I'm standing in the middle of the ring, the lights down low to an eerie red hue. Next to me, the hooded figure stands ominously, observing the scene that my mind had concocted for today’s bout of mental torture. I look up. On the ground, a prone Steven Homes. In mid air, me, halfway through twisting down for the Firefly, moments before my spine crashes to the mat as the diabolical Holmes rolls out of the way. But for now, both remain scarily still.

???: Then what do you call avoiding sleep?

I turn away, and look out into the crowd. Or rather, where the crowd would be. I scan around the empty seats, even the announce table and the timekeepers area at ringside. But there’s no-one. I’m alone.

???: In the last few weeks you’ve avoided me. You’ve been getting by on an hours sleep here, a few minutes sleep there. Even before this loss; the biggest of your career. You’ve been driving yourself into the ground.

X: I had experience at sleepless nights when Abi died. I’m cool with it.

???: And yet, here you are.

My eyes fall back on the baron crowd.

X: Subtle metaphor.

???: And what metaphor would that be?

X: That I’m alone, dumbass.

???: And do you think you deserve to be?

I continue staring out, and rest my arms on the top rope. I think back to Abigail, and the void in my life left by her untimely death. I think about my dad, and the radical failings he’d made since I came back to the US. I think of Frank, and the injuries he’d suffered from dad’s brutal outburst. Then I think of mom, and how she’s had to sit by and watch this horror show unfold.

X: Probably.

The hooded figure turns its body, and though I can’t see its face, I’m pretty sure a wide smile has grown. Slowly, it begins to glide towards me.

???: So then-

X: But that doesn’t mean that I am.

The figure stops abruptly in its tracks by my words.

X: And I dunno if maybe at some point that’ll happen. That I’ll lose everyone around me. Let’s face it; I’m a fucking walking disaster area. It’s likely. But I don’t have a say in it.

I look back out to the empty seats. My eyes catch a number of people who’ve now appeared in the crowd. I spot Faith, looking on; hope in her eyes. I see Red next to her, hands on the guardrail, cheering his best buddy on. And I see mom, in her seat, her hand to her mouth, worried for the wellbeing of her son.

X: It took me a long time to realise, but they’ll be here no matter what.

I walk towards the figure, the tables now firmly turned in my favour in this encounter.

X: I’ll climb, I’ll fall, I’ll get back up again. And they’ll be my crutch. My confidants. My friends and family. They’ll be here for me no matter what I do. And there isn’t a damn thing you, or even I can do about it.

The hooded figure stays still. For the first time, it’s height becomes more than apparent.; with the hood, it’s no taller than I am, possibly a bit smaller. And yet, it’s presence makes it seem like it towers over me still.

???: I wouldn’t put that to the test if I were you.

It turns and glides to the corner my past self is diving off. It lifts its head and stares above.

???: You were so sure in this moment. So sure of your victory. Dreams of Kingdom Come, as the World Champion, defending in front of a capacity crowd, and in front of the people you claim will never leave your side. Yet, so sure of this victory, you still lost.

Two spotlights slowly appear around myself and the figure, and the red lights begin to dim, until we’re both stood there, in pools of light surrounded by pitch black.

???: But they aren’t the people you want there, are they? And as long as that remains the case, Alex, you’ll never truly let them in. And that will eventually drive them away, because they know that as much as you care for them…

In a flash, the figure is now standing directly in front of me. It puts its hands up to its hood.

???: They aren’t…

X: …her.

I sit bolt upright, covered in sweat, but not with the usual anxiety I’d normally get from one of those dreams. I scan the room in my just-woken state; I’m in my apartment in Phoenix. I look to the clock on the wall; the beam of light pouring through the window illuminates the clock face; 7:30am.

I rub my hands through my hair vigorously. The constant feeling of stale tiredness has somewhat reduced with the first good nights sleep I’ve had in about a month, if not more. Well, I say good…

I stand up and wander towards the window and pull the curtains apart. The world has begun its ordinary cycle for the day. Wake up, go to work, get home, eat, sleep, and then repeat. I walk away from the window and stare into the full length mirror to my left. There are bruises along my ribs form a house show the previous evening, but they don’t draw my attention. What does is the necklace around my neck and the cross-tattoo on my forearm, reminding me of the day, a very important day. Before I do anything, I quickly shower, throw on some clothes and grab my gear bag. My thoughts turn briefly to the house show I have later on, but I know that before I can worry about that, there’s something I have to do.

Because today is anything but an ordinary day.

An Hour Later…​

Twelve rows up, three from the end, seventy two steps from the beginning of the path. The bright sunlight makes such a depressing place look so pretty. So full of life, ironically. I approach the cold, grey headstone, remove my jacket and place it on the firm ground, and kneel before it. I lay the flowers neatly by the base, and take a deep breath, staring at the engraved name of my deceased love. ‘ABIGAIL PARK’.

I stand there for what seems like hours, thinking of the right words to say to her. I know somewhere, somehow she’s watching down. I’m not a religious person in any way, but even I believe that there’s something that happens after life, and that we can look down and watch over the life we’ve left behind. And I know she’s doing that just now. I think back to the promise I made her, exactly a year ago. The promise of beating Steven Holmes. Of making her dream, our dream a reality. And I did; I beat him, and became champion, and one of the hottest things in recent memory.

But when push came to shove, I couldn’t get the job done on the big stage. A number one contenders match against the same foe I’d beaten for the belt. A rematch a year in the making. And lightning couldn’t strike twice.

But now, a year on, I find myself in the same position. Joint number one contender to the Eurasian Championship. Rush awaits, as does Mason Westhoff. Both are dangerous in their own right; Rush has a ridiculous experience advantage, Westhoff is freakishly strong and has his ‘buddy’, Grand Mystique for back-up. I have nothing. I’m walking into battle unarmed. But that’s never stopped me before. I place my hand on top of the grave, and mutter under my breath.

X: I will not fail. I promise you.

Faith: Mind if I join you?

I look up, and notice Faith standing above me. She’s casually dressed in jeans and a black vest top, with her dark red leather coat over the top. I remove my hand from the grave, and look back upon its rough surface.

X: I’m not much company.

Faith: That’s fine. I was only asking to be polite.

She kneels down beside me, looking at the grave.

Faith: You look better.

X: Yeah. Finally got some sleep.

Faith: Does that mean-

X: No, no. Seems I got the family bumper-pack of bad dreams.

Faith: Bummer.

X: Tell me about it.

Faith: Still, you getting more sleep is a sign of improvement, right?

X: That was down to me though. I've been running from it, rather than facing it. That's the truth. I can’t help but ask myself how much I......how much I let the fear take the wheel and steer. Y'know? I mean, it’s dictating me, when I should be…

Faith: …the one behind the wheel?

I smile at the recognition of us being on the same wavelength, and look up at her.

X: Yeah. Something like that. And that’s what I’m gonna do.

I look back, and we break into silence for a few moments. Faith eventually removes her leather jacket and places it on the grass, before kneeling on it. Though I can't see her, I can tell she's staring at Abi's grave.

Faith: How long’s it been?

X: Too long.

Faith: Yeah…(she looks over her shoulder, as if looking at another grave)…tell me about it.

X: Your brother buried here I take it?

Faith: (nodding as she speaks) Right over there.

Another silence descends as we just sit there, letting the world pass us by.

Faith: How’s Frank?

X: Much better. He says he can’t remember who attacked him. They hit him from behind. Like a coward.

Faith: And you still think it was your dad?

X: Bastard practically admitted it.

Faith: The police will find something to tie him to it. Don’t worry.

More silence passes, broken only by the distant sounds of life around us.

X: I…made a promise.

Faith’s attention picks up, and she turns to look at me.

X: Last year. I promised her I’d become Elite X champion. I promised I’d beat Steven Holmes, and become something. And I kept that promise. And now, a year on, I have another title shot. Another promise to keep.

Faith: Congrats on that by the way.

I barely hear Faith’s last comment.

X: Last time I felt like I had everything against me. Like I was running up a hill that was far too steep. But this time, I don’t. I don’t know how to describe it, but the fire and excitement that I had isn’t there this time. It’s strange, I just-

Faith: -you feel like it’s the runner up prize.

X: What?

Faith: You lost your shot at the world title. To your mortal enemy Steven Holmes, no less. But knowing you were that close naturally makes anything pale in comparison. It’s…natural. Anyone would feel like that.

I look at her for a moment, before staring back at the grave.

X: Something like that, I guess. But nevertheless, it’s one of WZCW’s most important championships. Former world champions have held it, and that should be…no…that is my target.

Faith: Exactly. Now all you have to do is take out Rush and Mason Westhoff, and the prize is yours!

X: And therein lies the problem. Rush is dominant. No-one can touch him. He’s king of the old school and knows how to hurt people. Then there’s Mason Westhoff…teaming with him last week was crazy. When I looked up and saw he’d got the pin too, I didn’t know what to think. I should have seen him, and kicked his head off. But instead, we both got the title match, and things just got a whole lot harder. But this week, thankfully, we’re on opposite sides.

Faith: You’re teaming with Mikey Stormrage, right?

X: Damn straight. I know Mikey, he’s a good guy. But this stuff with Grand Mystique has…well, it hasn’t changed him, but it’s awoken something in him. Something I don’t think he even knew was there. And he’ll stop at nothing to get at him.

Faith: Well, sounds like you’re a team destined to form. He wants Mystique, you need to scout out Westhoff for your title match. Not to mention the psychological advantage you’d gain from a victory. And that goes for both of you.

X: Yeah. I mean, Mikey gives us an advantage in terms of tag team experience. He’s a two time tag champion after all; the only in history. But Mystique…Westhoff…The Sacrificial Alter are downright dangerous. We need to be careful.

Faith: They need to be careful. They’re facing a guy who wants blood and a guy who’s made a promise to his dearly beloved. Not to mention half of one of the greatest tag teams in WZCW history, and one of the most dominant Elite X champions in recent memory. You guys have got this. And when the title match comes, I know for a fact you aren’t letting her down. No way.

A small smile grows across my face. I look back at Faith, and feel a sudden wave of calm spread across me.

X: I’ll deal with the title match when it comes to it. As for Meltdown this week, Mikey has his agenda, and I have mine. But we’ll be united against our common enemy. And neither of us intend on losing.

I put my hand on the grave once more, before removing it and turning to Faith.

X: Thanks. I needed that.

Faith: No problem. And Xander…I know she’d be proud of you. Hell, I am. And I ain't easy to please.

My smile grows a little wider. She pulls me close and hugs me reassuringly. We release and I stand, picking up my coat.

X: Thanks Faith.

Faith: No problem

X: Now if you’ll excuse me (I turn and begin to walk off), I’ve got some asses to kick in Maryland.

Faith: Good luck.

I turn back to face her, another wide, cocky smile across my face.

X: Luck is for losers.

Later That Evening…​

It’s early evening at a small arena in Baltimore. I walk through the door, full ring attire with a ‘Triple X’ t-shirt over the top, still taping my fists, and see a familiar, rather large figure leaning against the wall in the corridor ahead. Mikey Stormrage, also in full wrestling gear, ready for a warm-up match against two local competitors later that evening. But this wasn’t the Stormrage of old that I’d gotten to know during my time in WZCW. This was a Stormrage focused, and full of barely suppressed anger. He looks up and spots me coming through the dressing room door.

X: Well, you sure look happy.

Mikey: Yeah…had a lot on my mind recently.

X: Join the club.

We slap hands as I lean against the wall.

Mikey: Rough day, huh?

I nod, and continue taping my hand, before progressing up my forearm, taking one last look at the cross tattoo, before finally covering it.

X: With respect Mikey-

Mikey: I won’t ask.

X: Thanks. Besides, we’ve got enough to deal with.

Mikey: You got that right. I can’t wait to get my hands on Mystique.

X: Can’t say I blame you. After what that bastard’s done . He’ll get his soon enough.

I finish taping my forearm, and pull out a marker pen, and begin to draw the X on my left hand.

X: We get tonight out of the way, then we can focus on them.

Mikey moves away from the wall, and begins pacing, almost as if my words didn’t reach his ears.

Mikey: I mean, all I’ve had since All or Nothing has been ‘good job with Westhoff’ and ‘you only lost because he cheated’. What people don’t get is that Westhoff is an appetiser. I don’t give a crap about him. Mystique is the one pulling the strings. He’s responsible for…everything. Nothing else I do matters, I just need to get my hands on him.

X: Well, you worry about him, and I’ll worry about Westhoff.

Mikey stops facing, and turns to face me; his rant seems to have softened his demeanor.

Mikey: That’s right, your title match. Congrats on that by the way.

X: Thanks.

Mikey: Listen, about that. (Mikey walks towards me) You’re facing Rush, who has Smith as an ally. And Westhoff, who we all know will have back-up too. It stands to reason you need back-up.

I ponder this thought for a moment. Mikeys words are true, and I immediately think of the perfect counter-offer.

X: The same applies to you. Mystique’s gonna have his little bitch in his corner against you. You need some back-up if he’s gonna get involved. I certainly wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him again.

Before Mikey can respond, Becky Serra walks through the door to their left.

Serra: Hey guys, ready for your interview?

Mikey: Sure.

X: Let's do it.

Serra: Great! This way, gentlemen.

She exits the door, as I draw the final X on my taped-up right hand. I stare at Mikey and we slap hands once more, before exiting through the door. I look at Mikey again as we follow Becky; his game face well and truly on. It doesn’t fool me though; I know bubbling below that happy-go-lucky surface is someone who is not to be messed with.

Unfortunately for the Sacrificial Altar, and whoever the hell our opponents are tonight, neither am I.