MD72: Black Dragon vs. Barbosa (Eurasian Title) Special Referee: Showtime Cougar

[Ty Burna]

Last week's Meltdown main event got very hazy after the finish, resulting in a brawl. Ty has decided to pit Black Dragon against the GM's former ally and Dragon's partner from last week; Barbosa with the EurAsian title on the line, allowing Ty's other interest take charge as the special guest referee for the match. Dragon has a tough task ahead of him to try and survive, let alone retain his title. The question is: what are the motives of both Barbosa and Showtime for this match, especially since one is wearing the black and white?

Deadline is Tuesday, April 17th at 11:59 PM Central Time.​

 

[Ty Burna]

Black Dragon has been granted a 24 hour extension.

 

[Барбоса]

Manic: But whose side are we on?

*The Manic is running around in a typically hyper state.*

Depressive: The same as we have always been.

*The Smoker and Depressive sit at the poker table, with the giant standing near the door with his arms folded; his back turned to the rest of the room. The Catatonic lies prone in his usual corner.*

Manic: Ty's?

*The Smoker lets out a sigh of exasperation.*

Manic: Well then whose? WZCW? The Apostles? Both? Neither? The Crashin Movement? Kravinosa Barbinoff? The X-Men? The Reapers? The Sith? The Jedi? The Combine? The Faith? The Lin Kuei? International Rescue? Spectrum? Please tell us!

The Smoker: You are an idiot.

Manic: Wait, are we a Mysteron agent? A Skrull? A Super-Skrull? Ooooo… whose powers do we have? Can we fly?

*The Smoker slams his fist onto the table.*

The Smoker: That's it! It is time to do what should have been done a long time ago.

*With that, he gestures to the giant.*

The Smoker: Hey you, do something useful for a change and get rid of this moron.

*The giant does not move. Seeing this, the Smoker shrugs his shoulders and begins to role up his sleeves.*

The Smoker: If we want something done right, we have…

*The Depressive puts a hand on the Smoker's shoulder.*

Depressive: …to maintain the status quo

The Smoker: But there is plenty of room for another body to lie over there.

*The Smoker gestures towards the unflinching Catatonic.*

Depressive: Disrupting our status quo would lead to grave consequences...

*The Depressive gestures towards the giant in the corner. This warning seems to sober the Smoker somewhat.*

Manic: Yeah! But whose side are we on?

*Before the Smoker can react, the Depressive finally answers the question.*

Depressive: The same side that we have always been on - our own.

*This quells the Manic's hyperactivity but, far from being placated, the Smoker is getting increasingly angry.*

The Smoker: This staus quo does not seem to be getting us anywhere fast. No matter how much we brutalise the likes of Dave Cougar or Black Dragon, we seem to be no closer to forcing a contest with Ty Burna. We do not even have a match for Kingdom Come yet as our stock seems to have fallen so far that those muppets, Myles and Bateman, did not even sound us out for a place on Team WZCW.

Manic: But we get to win another shiny belt this week!

Barbosa: A belt I do not want…

*The unexpected input from the giant merely reinforces the stance the Smoker is taking.*

The Smoker: See? We are getting nowhere. If anything, it is a massive step backwards! We should be in the main event challenging for the World title not tangling with a masked misanthrope who thinks he is Batman over a mid card title.

Depressive: This title match with Dragon is merely another attempt by Ty to distract us.

The Smoker: Distract us from what? Planning our little backstage segment with some soul-sucking celebrity or ear-destroying musician at Kingdom Come? Our inevitable appearance at WZCW New York instead of at the event itself? What? Pray tell us!

We are dying to hear what vapid, nonsensical idiocy you spew out next to justify our continued wallowing in professional limbo as we await the beatific vision or supernatural grace to propel us to the sanctified stratum of the Promised Land!

*The Smoker is now firmly in the face of the Depressive, whose impassive stare only ramps up the tension; tension that forces the Manic to move away from the table in an attempt to find somewhere to hide.*

Depressive: We are in as prominent a position as possible.

*This draws an incredulous laugh from the Smoker.*

The Smoker: And just how the Hell do we work that out?

Depressive: While we were not able to book our place in the World Heavyweight Title match for Kingdom Come by defeating Kurtsey or winning the Lethal Lottery, we are seemingly above a repeat appearance in the King For A Day Elimination Chamber, and the General Manager of Meltdown fears us to such an extent that he is attempting to manipulate the situation enough so that we end up on his team at Kingdom Come or at the very least do not get dragged onto Team WZCW. We fail to see what more we could possibly do?

Barbosa: I want to face Ty.

The Smoker: Maybe we should just accept Ty's offer…? Join the Apostles and get our match against him post-Kingdom Come?

Depressive: The likelihood that Ty would follow through with such a promise is miniscule.

Manic: And what about taking the nice shiny belt from Black Dragon?

Barbosa: Of no concern.

Depressive: Even if we get to place it beside the World Title we take from Ty?

*The giant thinks on this for the briefest of seconds.*

Barbosa: No.

The Smoker: There, see? It is Ty we want to face. Not bedecking ourselves in some overblown jewellery.

Manic: But we want all the jewellery!

Depressive: While it may not have the most extended history of other titles in WZCW, the select few who have held the EurAsian Championship constitute something of an elite list. The opportunity of adding our name to such a list cannot be something to be turned down.

Barbosa: I have no interest in that title.

Depressive: …but would you have a problem carrying it around should it happen to fall into our hands through our continued quest for a showdown with Ty Burna?

*The giant ponders again.*

Barbosa: No.

Manic: Yay! We are going to have all of the shiny things!

The Smoker: What about Black Dragon? If we have no plans to use him to get to Ty Burna then what was the point of going to talk to him in the empty arena? We doubt that he is going to stand aside as we trample all over him.

Barbosa: Dragon is in my way.

Depressive: Exactly, it may even be worse than that. Not only is he of no use to us and, along his title belt, in our way this coming week, he could be a long term problem for he wants the same thing as us - a match with Ty Burna.

Barbosa: Not after I crush him.

Depressive: That is unlikely to happen.

*This seeming questioning of his abilities leads the giant to turn towards the Depressive in an aggressive manner. This in turn forces the Manic to find another hiding place as he had taken up a position behind the giant. However, the Depressive continues to be unruffled.*

Depressive: A decisve victory for either of us is unlikely to happen because it may involve the elimination of one of the participants in this little web of lies and tricks that Ty has spun. Fewer players would bring some much unwanted clarity to the ongoing situation and Ty Burna wants the waters to be muddied as much as possible.

The Smoker: We have dealt with Dragon before... Just look at last week's lesson.

Manic: Yeah, we will defeat like we are the Dovahkiin!

Depressive: We were able to get a shot in on Dragon last week but this there is always the chance that Burna's Apostles will interject themselves. They have already proven themselves to be a wild pack of dogs, willing to tear apart anyone who stands up to Lord Burna. Just ask Titus.

The Smoker: Yeah, but the Apostles have already found ourselves and even Dragon a far more dangerous proposition than that movie-star wannabe.

Depressive: Again, that may be true but on this occasion there is an extra wild card in the pack.

The Smoker: Showtime... but we battered him all over the arena last week.

Depressive: Yes, but this time he will be in the black and white stripes of a WZCW referee, free to do whatever he wants. What makes David Cougar dangerous to us is that he is in a similar position to us - a major player in this little game that Ty wanted to prevent joining of Team WZCW, even if it means getting him to serve along with his Apostles and giving him what he wants and what he wants is almost exactly the same as both us and Black Dragon - a match with Ty Burna, provided that it is for the World Heavyweight Title.

The Smoker: We would not put it past that glad-ragged, attention-monger to declare himself the winner, claiming that Dragon and us beat ourselves.

Manic: But we have beaten ourself before…

The Smoker: That is disgusting.

Manic: What? We had that over-the-top match in here recently that we won.

Barbosa: That I won.

*The Depressive nips the blossoming argument in the bud.*

Depressive: Before we go down that bickering route again, we need to focus. Ty is no doubt planning something but whether it entails getting us, Cougar, even Dragon or some yet to be revealed fourth party to join his side is impossible to say.

In fact, it would almost seem that Lord Burna himself does not know where his plan is going. Perhaps that is part of the chaos he hopes to usher in or perhaps Tyrone Blades is praying on notions of chaos to hide the fact that his plans have not gone completely according to plan.

So far it would appear that few of those he has tried to coerce have proved loyal, reliable or competent. James King, Wasabi Toyota, even Chris KO. They have all made fools of Burna's attempts at coercion.

Manic: Yeah! And Showtime slapped him right in his big scary face!

*The Depressive's rallying call seems to have swept up the Smoker in its wave, making him forget his previous anger.*

The Smoker: And we showed him the meaning of fear in the Lottery. Who is he going to recruit at the last minute? Doug Crashin? DK Wilton? The mighty Jalapeno?

Depressive: Against such a chaotic landscape there is really very little we can do but continue to win and see where the pieces fall in the run up to Kingdom Come.

The Smoker: But what if we do all that we can and still end up nowhere.

Depressive: Should it turn out that way, then we will have to be a bit more forceful and indiscriminate in our actions. Embrace the chaos that Ty Burna has sown.

The Smoker: The GM might not like Barbosa in full chaos mode... He might even extract some perverse pleasure from it.

Barbosa: Not if I am choking the life out of him.

The Smoker: Hmmm... you never know what those Gothy types are in to. The same with Black Dragon and maybe even Showtime too.

Barbosa: Then I will send them all to Hell with a smile on their face.

Manic: Oh goody! We get to use the rest of our bottle of belt polish!

 

[Gelgarin]

Book of the Dragon​

~ Chapter 22 – The Dread Portal (part 1) ~​

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. From behind it echo a child’s screams, twisted agony expelled desperately from half formed lungs. Shrill cries pierce my ears, pleading for help, for mercy or just for a cessation of pain. I want to step through the door, to offer protection, aid and comfort; but that isn’t the way I need to go. I turn my back on the echoes of horror and continue my journey deeper into the dream.

* * *​

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. This one seems more familiar, I think it’s mine, but I can’t be sure through the haze of red agony shooting through my skull. The headaches are back, and the ability to sleep is gone. Two steps forward, two steps back, I’m where I was a month ago. Even Muse is not here; she’s been called away on business. We don’t know where, we never do until she gets to the airport, it could be a mountain top or a tropical wilderness, people have strange tastes, but they never fail to carry her far afield.

I’m doing better than last time. Muse is not here to sustain my sanity, but anger will make a short term substitute. As long as I am angry, bloated with hate and desire for vengeance, as long as my temples throb with barely suppressed rage then I have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. For that at least I should probably thank Barbosa; I’m not going to, but it wouldn’t be out of line if I did. Had the pitiable creature exceeded expectations and failed to deliver a dagger to my back then I would find myself lost and a loose end, with nothing to sustain me.

It’s not a particularly interesting door; it sits loosely on its hinges, ushering a draft into the room. The lock was kicked out just before I moved in, and the portal is now held feebly closed by a solitary dead bolt. There is no security behind this door, but nobody in this place has anything worth stealing. Yes; the door is definitely mine, but that does not answer the question as to why I have been staring at it for such a long time.

Carefully, ponderously, stepping carefully around land mines of pain, my mind works its way through the issues of the day. Muse has been taken care of, Barbosa has still to be dealt with and therefore the unstable creature must be at the forefront of my motivation.

There is certainly a burning desire to bring vengeance down upon that particular empty husk. For months now I have been stalking Burna, and have had successes and I have had failures, but I have yet to strike a decisive blow. Well last night, or the night before, or possibly the one before that, I forget… whenever it was, I finally had the demon locked for a short trip face first into darkness, and my monster of a partner stabbed me twenty-three times from behind. Et tu, Barbosa? Sadly not; as if to salt the wound the deranged shell of a man did not offer betrayal for personal gain or out of a desire to embrace darkness, but simply because it is too stupid to respond in any other way. Pages back I compared Barbosa to a rabid dog; useful to a point, but ultimately in need of putting down. All that has changed since that assessment is the poor creature promoting itself from the rank of ‘someone else’s problem’ to something that I shall have to deal with. The creature is frothing at the mouth and someone needs to put it out of its misery; right now it seems that someone is me.

Temptation runs through my veins to step through the door before me and go in search of a fight. I would be so simple: two steps forward, fumble with the bolt, and then keep walking forward until the slavering beast is found and violence ensues. It would be the easiest thing in the world to go in search of the vengeance I crave, but vengeance kept from the public eye is not justice, it is simply revenge. If I were to go in hunt of Barbosa now then I would be acting for my own satisfaction alone. Barbosa’s fate must be seen, the world must know that he has been judged. No, revenge may be what I desire, but it’s not why I’m here.

The door is still in front of me. Time has made it no more interesting. Perhaps I shall remember its purpose after a short rest.

* * *

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. No draft eschews from behind it, so it must be the door in my dream. You don’t get drafts in dreams. The door is thick, textured dark oak. From behind it echo a child’s screams, twisted agony expelled desperately from half formed lungs. The dream is no longer moving forwards. In nights gone by I found myself experiencing new things every time I journeyed into this strange new world; but since turning away from the screaming child I have been stuck here every night. Shrill cries pierce my ears, pleading for help, for mercy or just for a cessation of pain. I want to step through the door, to offer protection, aid and comfort; but that isn’t the way I need to go – you can’t move back in a dream, you can only keep on going forwards. I turn my back on the echoes of horror and continue my journey deeper into the dream.

* * *​

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. A cold breeze passes under the woodwork and tickles the lower half of my face. I guess that means that I’m awake again, though if I have been sleeping then it has been a restless sleep. My eyelids are weighted, dragging me down and holding me on the floor. I try to lever myself upright but shooting pains hold me in place.

We have covered Barbosa, considered Muse and talked about Ty; that leaves only one possibility for why I’m staring at this door.

Showtime is a subject that I have been struggling to avoid. My story has its share of surprises and Showtime spoils several of them. Still, sometimes you must stop and considered what is in front of you. The best laid plans were to grant Showtime a reprieve until the man has made his final choice. Unfortunately the best laid plans of men are seldom successful, and Showtime managed to inadvertently wake the Dragon. If you wake the Dragon then you are going to get burned. Before leaving for the airport Muse instructed me to review tape of Showtime’s incineration, and in doing so I learned the truth. In a foolish act of revenge I flamed somebody who did not necessarily deserve it. Now I have no real issue with hurting people who do not deserve it; life is a war, and collateral damage is the sad reality of any war. That being said, collateral damage where no purpose is served is simply murder, and there was no purpose behind burning Showtime.

It would be so easy to continue to lie here, drifting in and out of sleep, staring at a door the whole time, telling myself that Showtime’s fate could not be helped, that I was ignorant of the specifics and therefore justified in me actions. Unfortunately however that would cross me over the boundary into darkness and I would become no better than the fiends I hunt. A man is lost the second he loses the ability to see his own mistakes. Showtime’s incineration was an error on my part, and this is something that I have to make right.

Skull throbbing, temples aching, eyes drooping and mind wandering I slowly pull myself upright. From prone to seated, and then using the functionless door handle from seated to standing. I am unsteady on my feet, my mind feels like it is floating on the tide and has taken my sense of balance with it, but I remain standing. I told you once before that I always, always stand back up again, and it is still true. In the back of my mind the realisation that I may be concussed is slowly settling in, but right now there are more important things to think about.

For starters; I have to go and see a man about a dog.

* * *​

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. It would be enough to drive me to despair, but for once I know exactly where I am and why I’m here. It’s not the location that I would choose, but I need to talk to someone, and there is only one place where I know he is going to be.

When being the Dragon I tend to avoid walking through doors, appearing out of the shadows is more in keeping with the image; but my mind wanders back to Barbosa’s pathetic mind games last week and I refrain. Showtime has earned just enough respect to be spared that kind of bullshit. Besides, for once I am not travelling to intimidate, and as such there is something to be said for manners.

I knock. Once, twice, three times.

“Enter.”

The voice from inside is lazy, distracted. As I turn the handle and walk inside I see Showtime reclining across a bench, his eyes idly fixed on a monitor across the room. On the screen Ty Burna is addressing his cattle. Showtime spares half a second for a glance in my direction before returning his attention to the screen.

“You.”

“Me.”

“You know, of all the people who should want ‘not’ to be in my presence right now, you’re near the top of the list Dragon.”

His voice radiates disinterest, though I couldn’t tell you the legitimacy of it. Showtime is a man who treasures his ability to appear aloof and would probably feign apathy even had I stormed in and attempted to disembowel him.

“Yet here I am.”

I’m conscious; I’m walking and talking, but my mind is still a wash with the red fog. Getting here demanded every ounce of focus I could muster, and no thought was left for planning what to say. I travel slowly through the motions of conversation, hoping that relevant words will form.

“Here you are, and since you are here; what do you want?”

“I came to talk.”

“Then talk. Talk and leave, I have things to attend to.”

My meandering has not been well received. Oh well, time to talk. I know where I am going, but have no clue how to get there. Resigned; I offer the first words that grace my mind with their appearance.

“I don’t habitually trust people. I tend to assume betrayal as an inevitable outcome.”

Silence echoes. I desperately want to smoke, but have resolved to take no tobacco until I step out the door. Given how I baptised Showtime in flame I fear that lighting up might send totally the wrong signal. Showtime’s eyes have not left the screen; undeterred I plunge on.

“I spent the week tensed for betrayal. I came to the ring tensed for betrayal. I fought the match tensed for betrayal. Yet as I stood on the precipice of victory, when the betrayal inevitably came, I was not tensed.”

“If there’s a point to this monologue then can I suggest you speed things up?”

Easier said than done.

“I took a boot to the face and a dagger to the back, and when I looked up I saw you exchanging smiles with a demon. The world was crumbling around me and I decided to bring it down in flames. You were the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

On the monitor Ty Burna’s cattle conference draws to a conclusion. For the first time David Cougar allows his attention to wander away from the screen. Turning his head he surveys me, considering my words for a long moment, before finally letting out a short, sharp burst of laughter.

“Somewhere in that ramble was an apology wasn’t there? Humility doesn’t suit you Dragon, kissing up suits you less.”

Humility perhaps; I can’t say I understand the kissing up. Cougar is not finished.

“Now listen closely; because this is only coming once. I’ve seen Meltdown; I know what it looked like and I can see why you acted as you did. I do not care what you did and I don’t much care what you go on to do. Settle your business with Barbosa; then keep your nose out of my affairs and I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”

“And Burna?”

“Not what did I just say about my business? You keep your mind on your title defence and maybe you’ll have more success avoiding knives to the back.”

“What title defence?”

My suspicion is immediately stoked. One major downside of my unofficial roster status is that I tend to be the last one to hear anything. Muse usually brings me to latest gossip, but without her I am usually reduced to simply turning up at the show and seeing if anything is expected of me.

Showtime’s eyebrows have raised and he allows himself his first genuine display of emotion.

“You didn’t know?”

“Evidently not. What title defence?”

Showtime laughs once more.

“You really didn’t know? I guess this makes you humbling yourself fractionally more touching. For a man pretending to be Batman; you sure don’t keep yourself well informed Dragon.”

"What title defence?"

Perhaps if I repeat myself enough times he will consider actually answering my question.

“Next week. You’ll be getting an opportunity to settle your differences with Barbosa. Unfortunately a contest that yours truly is stuck babysitting.”

Well that solves that little mystery. Unthinking my fingers fumble at my jacket; withdrawing a tube of nicotine relief. With a start I realise what I’m doing, but I’m past the point of no return. Showtime doesn’t appear to have noticed, and I need something to take away the red fog, if only for a minute. I inhale deeply and my mind starts to race. An opportunity to settle things with Barbosa; not unexpected and definitely not unwelcome. There is no sense is letting a half dead animal cling to life, the sooner I put him down the better for everyone. Cougar’s presence however in an unpleasant spanner in the works. The obvious answer is that Burna is playing a game of divide and conquer, as if his opposition could get any more divided. I speak softly of David Cougar due to deeds of the past, and I hope that when push comes to shove he will make the right choice, but I do not trust the man. I don’t want him any nearer to my work then he has to be. The only solace I can take is that he appears even less enthusiastic about the prospect of officiating my match than I am.

“Why are you officiating?”

Showtime shrugs dejectedly.

“Go ask Ty if you want an answer to that. I don’t have one. At a guess I’d say it’s busy work aimed at keeping me out of the picture. Rest assured that it’s not a situation I’m enthusiastic to be involved in, and I’m purely motivated to get it over and done with so I can move on.”

Showtime scowls, then looks up again as a new thought seems to have struck him.

“So if you didn’t even know about the match then you evidently weren’t trying to curry favour earlier. What then was the point of your little speech?”

The fog is descending again. Tobacco is doing a progressively worse job of keeping the pain at bay. There is too much to think about. I need time and space to absorb the new information.

“Things needed to be said. Whether you listened or not is up to you, just know that you stand here before me, yet I am not attempting to destroy you. You're not my target; you've paid your tax. You can take that however you want.”

I have just enough consciousness left to forge an answer, but it is a close run thing. Showtime’s eyebrows are fixed atop his head again as he questions what I am talking about; but I will have no answers for him today. I need to sleep, collapse is imminent and whilst I will humble myself with an apology, I will not let the rest of the world see me being weak.

I spin around, an unintentionally dramatic exit as I sweep out of the room in search of a place of rest. My last memory leaving is hearing Showtime muttering to himself.

“Paid my tax… what on earth is that supposed to mean?”

* * *

Once more I find myself staring blankly at a door. No draft eschews from behind it, so it must be the door in my dream. You don’t get drafts in dreams. The door is thick, textured dark oak. From behind it echo a child’s screams, twisted agony expelled desperately from half formed lungs. The dream is no longer moving forwards. In nights gone by I found myself experiencing new things every time I journeyed into this strange new world; but since turning away from the screaming child I have been stuck here every night. Shrill cries pierce my ears, pleading for help, for mercy or just for a cessation of pain. I want to step through the door, to offer protection, aid and comfort; but that isn’t the way I need to go – you can’t move back in a dream, you can only keep on going forwards. I turn my back on the echoes of horror and continue my journey deeper into the…

“No!”

I glance around looking for the source of the outburst, then am shocked to discover that it eschewed from between my own lips. No. Night after night I have stood, staring at this door whilst the child screamed out for help, and night after night I have turned away and walked deeper because that is where the dream wanted me to go.

No more. Since suffering the betrayal at the paws of Barbosa I have been adrift at sea. My anchor has not been present and I have been unable to control my own life. A man who cannot take control of his life cannot hope to control his dreams. No more.

A few yards away from me a child is in pain. I abandoned the child like aspect of me because it was weak, but now I see that a part of me is still weak. I may be fierce, resilient and powerful, but the weak child is still there inside, craving protection. Protecting others means protecting yourself. I reach out and grasp the handle of the door.

In a few days I shall have a chance to rectify that which went astray. The betrayer will be in my hands, and when that time comes the environment is set to be uncertain, so I must struggle to leave nothing in the hands of fate. I must be completely in control, and that can start in my dream. Muscles tensing I pull down on the handle, drag back open the door and step back into the beyond.

It is true that you can’t move back in the dream. As in life, you just have to keep advancing forwards come what may. That being said, nobody ever said what direction ‘forwards’ has to be. Barbosa; in a few days my journey forwards leads straight through you. A feral dog does not understand the importance of getting out of the way, so I expect to see you there. It’s time for you to be put down.​

 

[Showtime]

Scene opens inside a large tour bus. Allen Lewicki is behind the wheel and Showtime David Cougar is seated near the back of the bus on a large leather couch and places his coffee mug down on a table in front of him. He is writing on a pad of paper and appears to be having some difficulty concentrating on his work. All of a sudden he takes the coffee mug and hurls it against the wall, shattering it into pieces. Allen quickly looks back to see what the commotion is about.

Cougar: Coffee was too hot. Allen for gods sake keep your eyes on the road.

Allen turns back to face the road as Showtime slides to the other end of the couch. He reaches into a bag and pulls out an MP3 player. He puts on the head phones and continues with his writing, his thoughts now being heard.

April 17th 2012. Myself and Allen are on our way to Meltdown 72 after touring across the states to promote Kingdom Come happening about a month from now, the biggest PPV in WZCW’s calender and I am still without a match. If I were a lesser performer like Phoenix or Cooper there would be reason for me to be worried about not having a spot yet on the card. I am comforted by the knowledge that I am one of the biggest stars in this company and management will no doubt find a match that rightfully fits my status. Which side of management that is remains to be seen. Vance Bateman was been calling and texting me non stop, no doubt fearing that I may slip through the cracks and be Ty’s ringer in the battle for control of WZCW. I have ignored his calls so far; I know come Meltdown and Ascension he will be like a shadow to me, asking me to join his team. Only then when I have no option to avoid it will I sit down and listen to his offer. Perhaps he would make me head of WZCW. Now wouldn’t that just be something. Ty Burna has thrown his offer down on the table already and it’s a shot at the one prize that has eluded me so far in my career, the last piece of the puzzle to complete my WZCW resume, the WZCW World Heavyweight Championship. It was a tempting offer, one I’m sure Ty thought I would agree to no questions asked. Perhaps at some other time in my career I would’ve accepted the offer. That was not the case on Meltdown. Maybe I wanted to see Ty sweat. Maybe I’m holding out for something even bigger. Maybe... I just can’t decide what to chose between what is right and what is wrong. Maybe...

Showtime sees a shadow move across his page. He looks up and no one is there standing in front of him. Showtime looks to the far couch opposite of him. He sees Trent Stonewall, who’s eating an apple. Trent yells at Showtime, but since he put the headphones on he has managed to tune Trent out. Showtime closes his eyes and when he reopens them he no longer sees Trent sitting there.

Maybe I’m just a little crazy. Somedays my conscious is standing right beside me telling me to side with the monster. Other days my figurative guardian angel is keeping me on the straight and narrow path which he says will one day lead me to everything I’ve ever wanted.

Showtime looks towards the front of the vehicle. Allen has his eyes on the road and is moving his body side to side dancing to what Showtime assumes is another repeat of Hanson. Allen loves Hanson.

Regardless of my decision, I know I will make it onto the Kingdom Come card and I know that match whatever it ends up being may very well steal the show. This week however, an interesting twist on my road to Kingdom Come has come up. This week I won’t be lacing up the boots and hitting any Final Acts or locking in some Commercial Breaks. This week I put on the stripped shirt and have the task of deciding the winner of a EurAsian Title match between Barbosa and Black Dragon.

The thought of Black Dragon causes Showtime to sit up more straight. He reaches his hand around to his back and touches the area where we was burned from last week. The skin had healed, but the tingling feeling comes and goes.

You’d think my response to Ty last week and his subsequent kick to my head would’ve spelled the end for us, but it would appear again that Ty is tempting me to join him. Ty has power in WZCW and by making me referee in this contest he is giving me a taste of that power. I don’t know what decision he wants me to make or maybe he’s scouting for a new member to join his brand of Chaos and wants to see what I decide for him. My interest in this match is minimal. It’s for a title I have little desire to ever hold again and it’s between two men I have very little history with. Oh history was made last Meltdown when Dragon stuck a figurative blade into my backside. I’ve had trouble trusting anyone in WZCW for years. Dragon is a man I know little about and maybe that lit cigarette to the back is my wake up call to something much bigger. Since arriving to WZCW, Dragon has been quietly impressive. The EurAsian Title has only been held by greats and Dragon does deserve some mention in the same breath as myself and Ty Burna. Dragon and I settled our issues it would seem after Meltdown. How do I know that they truly are settled? I don’t. Very little is known about Dragon and he likes to keep it that way. I guess I just have to make sure to keep and cool cloth across my backside and keep one eye on him
and one eye on his opponent.

Showtime looks up from the paper. Trent has reappeared and is sitting across the room on the couch. He waves his hand hello and as he does the figure changes in Showtime’s mind, changing back and forth between Trent and Barbosa. Showtime shakes his head and rubs his eyes and the illusion has disappeared on his again.

Barbosa is another man I actually know very little about, but stories about him send shivers down weaker mens spines. When I look at Barbosa I see both the best and worst that I could become. Barbosa is much closer to beast than he is to man. One can only imagine how well we could’ve done in either Lethal Lottery he’s been in had he not had to wrestle earlier in the shows. He came into WZCW with a full head of steam and while he has finally shown signs of slowing down he is still a major force in WZCW. It’s easy to understand why Ty continues to court Barbosa to join his little fraternity, even as Barbosa screams bloody murder for Ty’s head. Barbosa is chaos and that’s exactly what Ty wants. Maybe that’s why Ty is trying to shake a little chaos out of me by pitting me between these two gentlemen on their collision course. Barbosa I know has been offered a very similar deal that I received to join Ty Burna. Could you imagine the utter chaos and domination that would happen if Barbosa, Ty and myself were joined as one unit.

Showtime quickly throws the pen and paper down on the table. He seems very stressed about the thought that just occurred and hurries over to the fridge and pulls out a can of wine. He cracks it open and takes a long drink as he sits back down on the couch. He picks up the pen and continues writing.

That I cannot let happen. This game between me and Ty and Barbosa has to stop and I fear Dragon has now been sucked into it. The power to end this could be in my hands and it could be with this match. Whatever decision I make will affect all parties heading into Kingdom Come. The question that remains... will one of use join Ty Burna and his Chaos... or has Ty simply set us all up to burn to the ground.