MD101: Cerberus vs. Constantine and Michael Winters

[Ty Burna]

Cerberus suffered a loss but impressed heavily in what some are calling the show stealer of Unscripted! They will collide with the unlikely team of Michael Winters and Constantine, who will be forced to team as Mr. Banks is demanding they resolve their issues, claiming that whatever they feel about Titus and Showtime has nothing to do with them! The returning Winters and the recently returned Constantine make a formidable team on paper, but will their personal issues allow Cerberus to triumph? Find out on Meltdown 101!

Deadline is Wednesday, March 12th at 11:59 PM CST.

 

[Richard Blonoff]

Match has been extended by 24 hours

 

[M. Winters]

Darkness.

It filled the room as well as his thoughts as Michael rested in the familiar backroom of the St. Mary of the Angels Church in Chicago. It had become his permanent residence since his untimely departure from WZCW. He had made his mark last night though, returning at Unscripted to aid Showtime against the likes of Titus and Constantine. Emotions from the past came rushing in, his time in WZCW was short but it made a lasting impression on his life. Pen to paper was always his first thought when this happened, a suggestion from a late friend. Michael had begun keeping a journal over the past two years; the spine was stiff, not having been opened in some time.

WZCW Elite X Champion, that's what I was at least. What should have been one of the happiest times of my life simply wasn't. Death and despair consumed my every thought; visions of my dying wife haunted me while I lay awake at night. Death and macabre had been staples of my day to day existence for a long time. Not a day went by where I didn't think of my wife, every thought taking a piece of my soul with it. She was my kindred spirit, my everything, and she could never be replaced. Nor could I forgive myself for what I'd done. He was willing to forgive me though, but not without a price

My mentor, my friend, Richard Fournier had passed away only weeks after surviving a massive heart attack, leaving me even more empty and alone than I already was. Even though the man was 5'6 on a good day and 160 pounds soaking wet, I had always thought he was invincible. His calm demeanor, whether it be helping the homeless or trying to spread the word of God to inmates while I was incarcerated always threw me for a bit of a loop. How a man of such small stature could feel so safe around men like that never made much sense to me. I guess it all came down to what he taught me, Faith.

Losing my best friend cut deep but I am still here, He still has work for me. His plan, His will. "Accept him into your heart and you will begin to understand" Richard used to tell me, but how can someone who puts you through such pain truly love you? I didn't see it at the time but I see it now, I was weak. For all the blessings He bestowed upon me, I took them for granted and it cost me dearly as I came crashing down from the pedestal I placed myself upon.

The loss of Father Fournier was a lesson to me, and a stepping stone down my path to salvation. I will not make that mistake twice. This planet, not only WZCW is full of heathens and sadists that are yearning for salvation and I will help them to purify their souls on His behalf. I take no pleasure in what must come to pass, as I know it is not of my control and that I act on behalf of Him and for the greater good of all mankind. You need only to fully accept Him into your heart and He will show you the path to salvation like he has shown me.

It was not a coincidence last night that I turned up to assist Showtime in thwarting the heretic that is Titus. The man spends more time worrying about his Oscar wins than what really matters, championing the greatest cause in the history of man, His will. Men like this have been holding down men like me for a millennia but no more, I will no longer stand idly by as these archaic tyrants run rampant on the WZCW. It is time for new generation to sit atop the proverbial WZCW Mountain and I plan on being one of the first to reach its summit.

Just as Michael Winters finished the last stroke a loud knock on his door from startled him out of his train of thought.

BANG

BANG

BANG

As Michael opened the door he wasn’t surprised to see who was waiting on the other side.

Michael: I was expecting you’d show up here at some point, nice to see you David.

Showtime: I tried calling but apparently you don’t have a cell phone so I thought I’d drop by after what went down last night. I think we may have some… mutual interests that I’d like to talk to you about.

Michael was surprised; he knew after his return to WZCW last night in the fashion that he did that he may have to deal with Showtime but he wasn’t expecting this.

How could a man such as myself turn down a man as blessed as you? Clearly you are in God’s hands being a three time WZCW Heavyweight Champion, you are truly blessed.

I thought you may be interested, but first I have a bit of news to pass along as I’m sure you haven’t heard. They’ve booked you for a match on Meltdown this week, you’ll be teaming up with Constantine to take on Cerberus.

Tagging with Constantine, another test of my faith it seems. It is His will though and I will not argue it, though I will not forgive as easily as Him. I still cannot understand why Constantine came to that dinosaur’s aid, a mistake he will rue. I do not know much about this Cerberus group except that they lost to some wannabe mixed martial artist and some nitwit posing as a super hero. I may not like Constantine but having two former Elite X Champions teaming against two… lesser individuals seems like a ploy to set me and Constantine against each other. I will not let it come to pass, these men need to be purified just like the rest. They name themselves after some blasphemous mutt and think it strikes fear in men but it does not. A man such as myself has no fear of the living for I am one with God and will rest eternally in His kingdom if I fall. His wrath will be wrought upon these heathens with such ferocity they will be unrecognizable in my wake. These men, they must be made examples of in front of the entire world. There will be no room for false prophets, no room for men with delusions of grandeur for there is only one true power in this universe. Him. If Constantine wants to assist me in His bidding he is more than welcome to, otherwise what comes to pass will come to pass.

With an eerie calm Michael turns to look at Showtime, realizing he’s been rambling on for some time. A homeless man entered the Church at that time and sat down at one of the benches near the back.

Sorry, I sometimes lose myself in His work.

No, it’s exactly what I like to see. Now, let’s go talk somewhere in private.

A wide grin spread across Michael’s face, he was excited for the first time in a long while. Showtime gripped him on the shoulder and walked back towards Michael’s solar as the screen fades to black.

 

[FlexAmerican Dynamite]

Flex: I’m a hero, I’m the only hero.

The Healthiest man alive Flex Mussél can be seen doing pulls up on a steel guardrail at furious and aggressive pace at his own private gym.

Flex: Haven can’t save anyone, only I can save the people from themselves.

The monsieur of muscle continues his mindless ranting as his progress is being closely observed by his partner Ramparte.

Flex: Only I can save them from heartburn, high blood sugar, and diabetes. Haven can’t do that, he’s not a real superhero. So why do they love him so much?

As the fitness trainer continues to question the popularity of his new foe his reps become more intense. He begins to accelerate at an even faster rate that causes the steel bars to become loose and unstable.

Ramparte: Maybe you should slow down a bit….

Flex: If he’s so heroic why didn’t he save me? Why couldn’t he protect me from all those calories? I’m the only one that can save this world from obesity. I’m the only real hero in this world!

Upon his sudden outburst the body builder comes down a bit too hard on his last rep breaking the steel bar completely off. It smashes against Flex’s foot as he lands but he hardly even notices as his intense gaze focuses forward as nothing else exists.

Ramparte: Well it’s nice to know you’re still not upset about our loss to Young Justice…

The Catalysts’ sarcastic comment does not stop Flex as he power walks forward to where his gaze was drawn to. He opens of a box to reveal a clear plastic mask. The same mask he’s tried to forget about for the past few weeks, the mask only known to him as Masquer.

Masquer: Are you finally done with your foolishness?

Flex: I need to go back; I need to re-learn what was taught to me.

Masquer: You need to go back where?

Flex: You know where.

Masquer: Hmm…I see, I didn’t think you’d ever want to go back.

Flex: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ramparte: Who are you talking to Flex?

Mussél finally acknowledges is partner as he applies Masquer to his face, becoming one with it again.

Flex: My Company is currently out of my control, my insatiable appetite for filth continues, and after our defeat at the hands of Young Justice we are no close to a tag team title shot than before. Upon entering WZCW I’ve disregarded the things that made me the embodiment of perfection. I need to get back to my roots. However only one place molded me into what I am, only one place saved me from obesity, that place is the most ruthless of camps used to help young individuals to lose their body weight and obliterate their need for unhealthy substances.

The description of the camp’s purpose peaks Ramparte’s entrance as he eagerly waits for his partner to continue.

Flex: Today my friend, we go to Cholesterolia.

A mother and a father can be seen driving up to an undisclosed location with their child in the backseat. The child is noticeably on the heavy side as he struggles to get out of his seatbelt to get a closer look at the environment. The location the family has arrived at is almost fortress like in its build and almost prison like in its watch towers that hover over the family as they make their way to the entrance. The closer they get the more the child is hesitant to continue.

Dad: Come on Franklin, we talked about this.

Franklin: But….it’s scary looking.

Mom: Trust me sweetheart it’ll all be better in the long run.

The parents continue to ease their child’s worries as they make their way to the front gate with a bright and happy banner that reads “Cholesterolia: Where healthy choices = healthy lives”. The gate is soon opened revealing two very muscular looking men acting almost as guards for the woman standing behind them. The female makes her way through the men to greet the family but never quite takes her eyes off Franklin.

Christy: Hi, my name is Christy and I’m the head counselor here at Cholesterolia. I take it you’re the Mussél family, and this must be Franklin.

The woman bends down to pat the obese child on the head and goes in for a hug but Franklin refuses as he clings to his mother’s leg.

Dad: Yes that’s him….sorry he hasn’t been very friendly lately, the last person to give him a hug was an older classmate with the intention of seeing if he could squeeze the fat out of him.

Mom: Franklin’s weight has been a huge concern of ours since he was born. We’ve tried everything but we hear this camp is great and it may be our last resort.

Christy: At this camp we specialize in helping children through their obesity and discover healthy choices to help with weight loss. I guarantee the next four months of Franklin’s life will not only be beneficial to his health, but also the most fun imaginable.

Mom: Good, I’ve honestly been concerned about just letting my child stay here but…his cravings have gotten bad.

Dad: Well it’s time kiddo, I want you to know Mommy and Daddy love you and anytime you want to talk give us a call okay?

Franklin reluctantly nods as his parents give him one last hug and kiss on the cheek as they leave him the care of Christy. Soon enough they drive away from the camp as the gates shut close leaving him to his new surroundings.

Franklin: When’s dinner?

Christy: Dinner must be earned!

The camp counselor’s pleasant demeanor and even American accent has quickly changed as she grabs Franklin by the collar and with almost uncanny strength drags the child from the entrance to the main hall of the camp.

Christy: To you I am no longer Christy, only Svetlana! For too long have you chosen to make unhealthy decisions and this is where you go to pay for them! No type of food will administered to you unless the proper amount of exercise is accomplished. 1000 pushups, 100 leg presses, and three miles must be ran within the hour if you are to have indoor sleeping privileges.

Franklin: But…what about the fun?

Svetlana: Fun? Fun has a weight requirement young child; if you wish to have it then slimming down immediately would be in your best interest. Do you even lift?

The counselor soon instructs Franklin to look at a wall in the main hall. Upon looking at it he becomes mesmerized with what he sees: golden shiny trophies, Olympic medals, plaques and rings all strewn throughout.

Svetlana: You’re probably wondering what qualifies me to be your superior and why I’m so demanding. Well here it is, this wall is a constant reminder why I am better than you and why if you continue to be a fat, drooling bed wetter you will never accomplish anything close to this. I used to be just like you but through hard work I overcame my obesity. No longer shall the world have to stand looking at your repugnance. Until further notice you’re property of Cholesterolia!

That same wall can be seen as Flex’s gaze fixates on his as his partner Ramparte and his butler Morley are blindfolded beside him.

Ramparte: Are you going to take this thing off Flex?

Flex takes off the blindfolds slowly unveiling the new surrounding to his cohorts.

Flex: Apologies, the location of this facility must be kept secret for purposes beyond the comprehension of those who haven’t proven themselves yet.

Ramparte: I think I’m a bit overqualified to be a fat camp babysitter.

Flex: This is hardly the normal fat camp my friend. This place makes my daily workouts look like child play. You see this wall, this is a monument to the greatest underdog story in the history of the world. This woman inspired me to become the perfection that I am and the only individual that rivals me in pure strength.

Ramparte: Eh, she’s kind of hot. What’s her name?

Flex: Svetlana the Mighty.

Ramparte: Interesting…so will she be showing us around?

Flex: For reasons I’m not emotionally ready to divulge she is not here at the moment. But due to my wealth I have an investment in this facility and have acquired the ability to take over activities here at the camp for the next few days. Follow me right this way Ramparte.

Ramparte: Will do, Morley put Flex and I’s belongings in our rooms immediately.

Morley: Of course sir.

The devilishly blonde haired athlete follows his partner into an auditorium stage of sorts that sits a top a room holding what seems like dozens of obese children. Flex sets down the protein shake he’s half chugged as he introduces the campers to his teammate.

Ramparte: Are these the inmates?

Flex: They’re the incoming freshmen if you will, just administered into the program by their parents.

The fitness trainer strokes his mask while looking upon his new victims before looking to address the group but then spots a camper with a Haven mask that stops him dead in his tracks.

Flex: Hey! Hey you in that cowardly green mask!

The camper doesn’t realize Flex is talking to him until the monsieur of muscle chucks an apple that bounces off the young child’s head.

Flex: You think wearing the mask of a man that pretends to be a hero protects you from your fears? You think praising Haven makes it okay for you to be obese? Masks like that are for cowards.

Camper: What about your mask?

Flex: This isn’t a mask; it’s a clear face protector with the purpose of draining out any toxins. What you are wearing is a mask that represents a man who wishes he was true hero like me-a Hero of Health!

Ramparte: Hey buddy, as much as I love this newfound hatred of yours we’re not scheduled to face Young Justice this week. We’re actually going head to head with two former champions in Constantine and Michael Winters.

Flex: I’m well aware; however they as well as Haven are all the same, false prophets who prey on the weak, such as these unhealthy miscreants. Though regardless of how I feel I can do nothing but applaud Constantine and Winters’ manipulation of the weak. I’ve always admired how politicians convince the public that they should be in control of the rules in our lives. Same can be said for using one’s religion to convince them to see things your way.

Ramparte: In a way the same can be said for you my friend.

Flex: What we’re doing here Ram, it’s not manipulation at all. It’s our job as fortunate, healthy, human beings to give back to society by making the world a healthier place. Something that the likes of Constantine and Winters could only hope to do.

Ramparte: While they may lack in that comparison they both are however former Elite X champions and are very capable of defeating the best in WZCW. However after Unscripted I highly doubt they have any cohesiveness with not truly trusting each other.

Flex: Their problems are no concern of ours. Their uneasy alliance will be their downfall as they don’t truly trust each other while we are not only best friends but a highly dangerous unit.

Ramparte: The more I think about it the more I realize we’re just younger, more talented, promising versions of them. I look forward to Meltdown where we get to prove it.

Flex: Constantine and Winters will be looking to advance their own personal desires by defeating what they think are two unproven youngsters but they will be highly disappointed when they step into the ring with Cerberus. But enough about them, what must begin the first trial for the new campers, will you do the honors?

Flex presents a lever under the podium on the stage that Ramparte gladly pulls. The contraption allows dozens of climbing ropes to be dropped from the sealing but also opens a floor panel at the bottom. The panel releases what seems like millions of small little rats that make a beeline for any camper in sight!

Flex: These rodents have been trained to smell the glutton, fat, and sugar that stain not only your lips, but your hearts and souls! If you wish to escape their wrath your first test here at Camp Cholesterolia is to climb these ropes to safety, good luck!

The duo has a front row view to enjoy the chaos they caused. As they laugh the children struggle to climb and shriek as the rats climb through their clothes and all over their skin. However while they mockingly cheer on the heavier campers to try to climbing the ropes they fail to realize one camper has made it up the ropes in record time. It’s the kid in the Haven mask! While the team is rolling on the floor in laughter at the blunders of the campers the kid has time to sprinkle some high sugar soft drink into Flex’s pure protein shake. He shimmies down the rope just in time as the body builder goes to clear his dry throat from laughing. He chugs the rest of the drink without realizing what he’s inhaled in time. Without realizing he’s given into the crazing he’s tried so to overcome. He develops a woozy feeling that leads to a short blackout.

 

[Spidey Revivey]

The motto of Camp Cholesterolia eats away into a cascading white and the interior of the Bunk House sets in. The bunk beds are lined up against opposing walls; each kid paired up with another at the foot of each one . Ramparte eases passed them one by one along the wooden aisle, his cane making a faint tapping noise and his scowl apparent. He looks over the group Cerberus is in charge of. After a rigorous day of intense workout exercises that sent many campers to the Nurse's Building, the juveniles were all sweaty, dirty and exhausted.


But their day wasn't over yet. The Catalyst has only just begun to traumatize them.


The Healthiest Man In The History Of Civilization, Flex Mussél, leaned against the doorway as if he were blocking the entrance. The clear mask covering his face, he seemed to be mesmerized by the fluorescent ceiling fixtures.



Never...never eat after 7 P.M. It's bad- so bad for you. It's a metabolishm err metabolism switch and it's no damn good. Not good..NO! Body stops burning cals..cows? Cals. Calories. Cholesterol? Cholestrolia. Close enough...


Flex's eyes darted between the lights to the bunk bed diagonally to his right. Ramparte, turning back at his partner to see what he was babbling about, followed The Monsieur of Mussel's gaze. There, peaking out barely visible from his vision, was a small cardboard pizza box.


Ramparte's face broke out in an awful wolfish grin. Adjusting the spider lapel that always adorns his suit, he cleared his throat.


"Spare the rod and spoil the child..."


Gliding over to the bed that hid away the rule-breaking junk food, Godfrey Ramparte stood in front of the two husky adolescents and peered down on them. One was a girl barely into her teens, the other a boy with black hair and a suntan. Both seemed unnerved. Letting his cane fall from his grasp, only to catch it in time and to repeat the motion, he leaned in so only they could hear him.


...Whose pizza pie?


The boy hung his head while the girl looked up at The Man in White and shook her head, gesturing that is wasn't hers. The grin faded slightly and Ramparte straightened back up.



We have a rebel in the Camp tonight, boys and girls. Someone who is willing to be the weak link in an otherwise perfect chain. Today you all proved that you could be somebody worth looking at, given some time. But now there's a boy here ready to forsake this group for a piece of greasy, fattening, slovenly cheap pizza pie...


The boy began to sob quietly.


Now now, child. No need for that. You can be their inspiration. You can change your ways all on a dime tonight and lead this group to better themselves.


I want you to eat that pizza pie in front of them. Make it your last bit of disgusting weakness.


Giving an encouraging smile, he beckoned Morley, his butler, over to pick up the box and hand it to the boy. Reading his name tag, The Catalyst placed a gloved hand on Russell's shoulder and addressed the group. Even the muttering Mussél stopped to listen.


Russell is only human. But he can aspire to do great things and I want each and every one of you to encourage him. Show him you all are ready to be better people. Decent people that are worth caring about.

For each bite of his Personal Pan Pizza Pie he takes, you must do a push up. Since there are four slices, this should take a while. But fear not; Cerberus has faith in you. Now get in position.


Russell began to cry again as he gorged himself on his Supreme Pizza with Extra Cheese. Tiny grunts escaped the now thoroughly pissed off group as they paid for Russell's slip. Ramparte walked over to his buddy, who was now sitting down in the corner of the doorway; hands up to his chest and his mask drooping slightly off of his face.


A team is only as strong as the alliance they make, my boulder of a friend. Both Constantine and Mr. Winters I know very little about, but-


-Constant is constant. He is a man of the gym and a gem of a man. El Politico, though. We can beat him if he drinks soda.


Ramparte gave Flex a long, perplexed look.


Soda is packed with sugar. That's the secret to beating him, White Man. The other is a Jesus Christ Superstar. You do well to avoid him at all costs. He doesn't seem like a soda drinker...




Ramparte, trying to make sense of what Flex was talking about, could only say one thing.







What the HELL is wrong with you?!



Twiddling his thumbs, Flex Mussel began to speak but stopped himself. Glancing over at the sloppy overweight kid eating away at his last remnants of punishment, and to the children doing the push ups because of it, he whispered the only thing he could determine.




Candleist, I think one of those little bastards poisoned me.



Ramparte extended a hand and pulled Mussél completely up. Turning back to the children, he ran a hand over his hair in thought.


When the idea fell on his mind, a deep maddening grin spread across his face. Letting the leather of his glove squeak under the pressure of the grip he held on his mahogany cane, The Catalyst raised his head to the ceiling and took a slow breath of air; his orange-tinted aviators casting a fiery glare at each youngster before him.


It seems somebody sabotaged my good friend's drink today. He is feeling very unwell, and may need to see a doctor soon. I know that you kids talk a lot about the things you do. All children do. So I know one of you can tell me who did it. In mine and Mr. Mussel's-


Mussél's


Right. In our room there is a chocolate-frosted cake commemorating Cerberus's first week of making you reproachable kids winners. I would be happy to share a plate, maybe even two plates, to whoever tells me who hurt Mr. Mussél. You will not get in trouble by any means. Think of the delicious, sweet chocolatey goodness that awaits a heroic whistleblower...


Flex looked at Ramparte curiously, knowing good and well that the cake was a lie.


Ramparte examined each overweight camper's face. Their eyes betrayed them and he could tell Russell was in for a lot more pain tomorrow. The Man in White swaggered over to his tweaking partner and pulled him aside, away from the prying ears of the children with eating disorders.


Do you see them, my athletically sound friend? Even in their silence, they have formed an alliance that is ready to crucify poor Russell.


The kid from UP?



Yeah, the kid from UP is getting crucified, sure. All for a piece of imaginary cake. Think about it; the fellows we are to meet may very well be too much for us to take on individually, but together their goals do not rival ours. They do not knock like we do. We are a true and tested alliance that nobody expected to click. But look what we are accomplishing. Young Justice barely had us beat. The Dragones expect a duo like us to rise from the ashes they brought on by their fire.

We are a team nobody gave a chance to, now let us take that chance! Take to the Hounds we say we are, and hunt down those former Elite X Champions!




Flex's eyes softened at his friend's confidence, and nodded. Ramparte turned away from his tag partner, and released a grimace he had kept hidden from onlookers. The thought of facing the bible-thumping Winters filled him with sensational foreboding. All his senses cried out not to engage this man, and if he could help it, he wouldn't.



But sometimes people can't help themselves, and the devil may make him do it.








Outside, out of sight from any living being, the lake's pond began to ripple unnaturally. The invisible spirits skimmed across the water, sizing one another up. The angel Erin paced back and forth, taunting the riled up Isis in their ongoing game with Ramparte.


He's mine now. Find another plaything.


The demon in the dirty cravat spat into the lake he stood on. A family of mallards eyed where they stood in confused curiosity.


Like hell I am, tree topper. His soul belongs to my kind, not yours.


Ramparte is under angelic protection. His contract will be voided.


Bitch, you fell. You can't save him. He doesn't even want to be saved.


In the distance, coyotes started to sing.


Pacing deep in thought with her eyes locked on to the greasy man with the smoker's voice, she started condescending him.


You have nothing on him. Nothing on me, even. I'm still the girl of his dreams and you're just an acquaintance with a bad smell. This is the modern times of humanity. You really think his contract means anything anymore in this age?


You'd be surprised, feather duster.


Isaiah Israel pulled out The List of The Slain from his vest pocket, teasing Erin.


Neither one of us knows why he sold his soul for this thing. It doesn't make any sense. If my kind don't even know, then guess what? He's dangerous. To your kinsmen and mine. But unlike you, Tinkerbell, I have leverage...


The List vanished in a whiff of smoke. Erin stood at attention now.


Ever wondered what happened to Mr. David Cohen, the WZCW recruiter that was on the hunt for our mutual friend? Has that thought ever crossed your celestial mind, woman?


Isaiah let out a piercing laugh ridden with cancer and ill intentions. The mallards took off in a frenzy of fear.


Face facts, glitter tits. He is mine and there's not a damn thing you and your baseball team can do about it!


The laugh was heard throughout the camp that night, and the children barely slept because of it. The dawn broke the night before the disturbing sound ceased.



Scene fades to white.

 

[Dave]

Self Preservation​

Constantine: Michael Winters is an interesting prospect.

Constantine sits behind a very beautiful and aged oak desk, clutching a voice recorder in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other. He had been there for a while, that much was obvious. His scotch had dwindled down to little more than enough to fill half his mouth if he was so inclined to drink it all, and appearance seemed rather not what people had come to expect from him.

Constantine: Or, at the very least, the prospect behind Michael Winters is interesting.

Michael Winters was now in the firing line for Constantine. The recent announcement of their impending tag team match against Cerberus had come as somewhat of a surprise to the Power Trip.

Constantine: It just doesn't make sense. Why would Banks put me in a match alongside a man whom I have nothing but resentment for? And another message from Showtime? Please! Like I am some sort of commodity that can be called upon when things aren't going your way? It seems that Showtime has learned nothing from our history.

Constantine gulps back the last of his scotch and leaves it on the table in front of him.

Constantine: Titus entered into a feud willingly with Showtime and asked him for everything. Tempting him from retirement took a lot of courage and cunning but Titus managed it. But Titus oversight in thinking that Showtime would allow the contest to go down without a bump in the road was not the mark of a legend but a wide-eyed optimist who let the result and the occasion get the better of him. Showtime Cougar is one the most devious men in the history of WZCW. His talent in the ring is only matched by his complete willingness to do whatever it takes to make sure that you don't leave the ring as a winner. Even in the worst of scenarios – a loss- Showtime always has a back-up plan. Titus should have known that. But I would be damned if I allowed myself to be that back-up.

Constantine stands up from behind his desk and grabs his glass before moving across the room. In a glass cabinet on the wall, a replica of both the WZCW Elite X Championship and the King For A Day briefcase can be seen illuminated. Constantine sets down his glass and begins to pour more liquid into it from a glass bottle, only taking his eyes off his greatest WZCW accomplishments for a mere second.

Constantine: I mean, I am a legend in my own right within this company. Perhaps not yet on the level of Titus or Showtime Cougar but I cannot simply be summoned like a lap dog that craves his master's adoration. Showtime grossly overplayed his hand this time.

Constantine sets himself down behind his desk once more, this time placing the voice recorder upon the wooden magnificence in front of him.

Constantine: And was I supposed to just let that slip? What would people think of me if I just allowed Showtime to escape the consequences of such a grievous miscalculation?

The Power Trip ponders his own question for a second, sipping down more of his scotch.

Constantine: It seems that for now, it is a moot point. As Showtime so often does, he has manipulated Michael Winters into servitude under the probable guise of equality and glory. But there can be no glory with Showtime, there is just no room. David Cougar is a big fish in a purposefully shaped small bowl. He is the first amongst equals. Michael Winters would do well to look at the example I have set him in the past. But Michael Winters in, indeed, an interesting case.

The former Elite X Champion stalls for a moment further.

Constantine: What is his motivation here? What is he gaining from teaming with Showtime David Cougar? Cougar's intentions are clear, this much is obvious. Teaming up with Michael Winters not only gives him security but it also gives him momentum. A rabid dog on a leash that will bark and bite on command. But for a former Elite X Champion to fall into servitude to someone so removed from his own ideology just doesn't make sense.

Constantine looks across the room to a crucifix hanging on the wall.

Constantine: For a man of faith, he has shown little to none in his own ability. In my return match I bested the mighty Titus, a feat that Showtime Cougar could not achieve. But a tag match with Michael Winters backs me into a corner, it leaves me open to certain attacks on multiple fronts. Michael Winters and Showtime may even prove to be the least of my concerns. Cerberus have shown themselves to be quite an attractive tag team – making waves in an already competitive division. Both men have proven themselves to be worthy adversaries indeed. Driven, motivated and talented seemingly. They will pose a stiff challenge for even the most cohesive of teams.

Constantine had kept a close eye on all of the WZCW roster since returning and Cerberus were indeed a driven tag team. He had watched them in the back, planning their offensive against their upcoming victims. They were organised and dangerous. What's more, they seemed focussed on a goal, not unlike Constantine. In fact, Constantine had seen some of himself in the new blood Ramparte. In another world perhaps the two men would have made great allies.

But for now at least, they were the enemy and the most pressing one. Constantine had a goal with his WZCW return and he could not lose sight of it, especially in the mire of the oncoming onslaught. He had returned to cleanse WZCW of the venom coursing through it's veins. Truth be told Constantine did not find fault with Cerberus. He had even remarked to himself that they would be allowed to thrive in a company under his rule. Two men with passion and drive and, most importantly, sensibility.

Constantine: My wits must be razor sharp in this encounter as danger is circling me. Cerberus are a challenge, there is no doubt about it. But they can be beaten – it has been done previously. Michael Winters and Showtime will take up their role as the wildcard in the match almost immediately. How will Winters react to me? Does the win here mean anything to him? Feint positivity presents itself, however, in the idea that Showtime might not be done with me. With Winters acting as his puppet, my hope is that Winters holds to his side of the partnership. He is not a stupid man for the most part. Cerberus offer a potentially brutal banana skin and the WZCW Universe are waiting for us to slip up and catch a beating. Winters is a former Elite X Champion and will surely realise the danger. Self preservation must mean more to Michael Winters than his gripe with me.

Constantine finishes off his scotch and winces as the powerful alcohol hits the back of his throat.

Constantine: Or at least that is the hope...