Redemption: Mystery (Dark) Match - Elite X Title #1 Cont.

[Kermit]

This match is for those who are not in a match for the PPV:

Ace Stevens
Bobby Adams
Doctor Coberer
Dustin Hunter
Fallout
Garth Black
Grizzly Bob
Isabel Stone
Joey Sexton
Justin Cooper
Theron Daggershield
Wasabi Toyota

With the addition of the new Elite X title rules, the WZCW Board of Directors need to find the next challenger for the Elite X champion, regardless of who wins at Redemption. So, every current member of the WZCW roster who isn't in a match for the PPV will participate in a match where the winner will become the new contender for the Elite X championship and will challenge the champion on the next edition of Ascension.

And depending how the match goes, WZCW Management may spot themselves another potential contender to face the champion down the line.​

Deadline is Wednesday (October 2, 2013) at 11:59 P.M. Extensions available upon request.​

 

[Kermit]

This match deadline has been extended by 24hrs via a request from Bobby Adam's handler.

 

[Daniel]

Ace Stevens
Believe Or Regret​

The hall is grand. Dark wooden panelling adorns the walls. Natural light shines through the large windows on either side of the room. A large stage stands pride of place at the front of the hall, with a comparatively small podium in middle of it. An elderly lady, no younger than fifty-five years of age, stands behind it speaking to the crowd assembled before her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real treat for you right now. Timothy Rogers, from Mrs. White's class in our fifth grade has written a poem about the person he admires the most. Please give him a warm round of applause!”

A small, skinny boy walks up to the podium. He pushes a loose lock of brown hair from his face and gazes at the people watching him. Fellow students, teachers and parents, all stare back at him – rows and rows of expectation in grey, plastic seats. The boy pulls a piece of paper from the jacket pocket of his uniform and begins to read it with a fair degree of confidence and passion.

“The person I admire is strong
The person I admire is brave
If you knock him down, he'll get back up
Like a ghost rising from the grave

The person I admire has had highs
The person I admire has been low
But he stands up for what he believes in
And he pumps his fist and says oh

He wears a black leather jacket and shades
Which he doesn't change for the seasons
He is undoubtedly my hero.
He is the American Angel, Ace Stevens

He doesn't have the best history
He used to be a bully and mean
But he turned his life around, changed his ways
Now he's the best wrestler the world has seen

He's been losing quite a bit recently
And I really don't know why
I think it's just bad luck
Because I know that he'll always try

But win or lose, I'll stand by him
I'm sure he has his reasons
He's my hero, the man I look up to
I believe in Ace Stevens.”

-----​

-
Manhattan, New York
The Office of Lewis Middleton
-​

“Yo, do you have any good food here? Raisins, pumpkin seeds... what the hell is granola? And why would I want an entire bar of it? Where the real food at?”

Ace Stevens, two-time Mayhem champion and one-time Mr. America hopeful, is rifling through the cupboards of his agent, Lewis Middleton (former personal assistant of Michael Lohan and quarter-finalist on the long-running British quiz show, University Challenge). His office is modern, spacious and somehow classically English. But alas, in the middle of it, Ace Stevens is pulling and tugging at dark mahogany draws.

“Reese's Pieces, Lucky Charms, bacon. Pancakes. That's what I'm looking for.”

“You're asking if I have pancakes in my office?”

“Yeah. Or you know, waffles...whatever...”

Changing the subject swiftly, Middleton says “would you like to hear your match for this week?”

“Lay it on me, homeslice.”

“You're in the number one contender match for the Elite X Championship again!”

“Oh cool. Wait, what, again? What you mean again?”

“Well you didn't win last week – sorry about that, by the way – so you've been given a second shot. Very generous of them to do that, too.”

“But I wasn't in that match last week. I was in the Eurasian number one contender match. Against Tastic, Cooper and Stone, remember? I even wrote a musical about it: The Aceman Cometh. Coming to an off-off-off-off-Broadway theatre near you.”

“I thought it was called 'Ace Stevens & the Path to Eurasia'.”

“Ah, that does ring a bell. Never mind. It's not like that's the reason I lost, right?”

“I can't see how it would be,” says Middleton in a jovial, light-hearted manner.

“So who've I got? Justin Cooper? Isabel Stone? Someone equally boring?”

“You've actually got both of them. And a few other people. Garth Black, Grizzly Bob, Wasabi Toyota to name a few. It's a battle royale. No, wait, no it's not” says the agent from England as he examines his papers. “It's, um, I'm not sure. It's says 'mystery dark match'. I assume that means you wrestle with the lights off or something.”

“Ah, of course,” sincerely replies Ace.

There's a slight pause in the conversation as Ace, rather unusually, takes time to think about what he is going to say next.

“Can I tell you something, Lewis?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever it is, I'm all ears. It's part of my job, after all.”

Ace inhales deeply, preparing himself to say something that he's never really said out loud before.

“I'm scared.”

“Of what? Wrestling in the dark? Yeah, I'd be scared too. Sometimes I can't even sleep in the dark, I have to get a night light or whatev-”

“No. I'm scared... I'm scared that I'll... never be successful again. And it's terrifying. Like bone-tinglingly terrifying. Like, to the soul scary. Y'know, I keep telling myself that I'm doing this for fun, I'm doing this for fun. But I wanna be successful. I want it more than anything. D'you know the last time I won a match? Meltdown 91. Against Triple X. About three months ago. When I first started this thing, I didn't think I could do it. But people saw something in me. Something I didn't know was there. People believed in me. People like Action Saxton, he believed in me. Saboteur, Ricky Runn and Showtime too. I can remember every complimentary thing they've ever said to me. And every time my shoulders are put to the mat for those three seconds, I think about how I let them down.”

“I think I've got some tissues somewhere...”

“No, no, this ain't a sob story, man. This is a pep talk. A weird, self-induced pep talk. I'm looking for that thing. That thing that sets the wheels in motion. That thing that changes everything. I need it sooner rather than later or I don't know, man. I don't know.”

As Ace finishes the final sentence, there is a loud knock at the door of Lewis Middleton's office. The timing is almost too good to be true and Ace hops out of his chair.

“I'll get it, Lulu.”

He strides over to the door and pulls the brass handle to see a tall, well-built man standing in front of him. Bald, with a thick broom of a moustache and decked out in wrestling gear, he's the kind of man you'd look at twice if you passed him in the street.

“Are you Ace Stevens, kid?” he says with a strong, rough Midwestern accent.

“Um, yeah” says Ace, more than a little taken aback by the man stood in front of him in nothing but a black pair of trunks and wrestling boots.

“Good. I've got a proposition for you, son.”

 

[Dagger Dias]

Theron's Merry Band of Misfits

​

The Gladiatorial Combat Arena in Wheloon was larger and more impressive than Theron could ever have imagined. Constructed out of bricks as crimson as blood and it stood taller than any other building in town, even larger than Redbeard's Manor on the other side of Wheloon. This was the same venue where the great Sealamin Glimmergaunt used to defend his World Championship. Theron and his Merry Band of Misfits stood outside the building, knowing that they had come to the right place for Theron to test his skills after the ordeal he faced in his recent battle with the former World Champion Gladiator. They had made it back into town that same day, having traveled back immediately following the battle in the temple.

Theron: This is it. Wheloon's Gladiatorial Combat Arena. I want to see if I have what it takes in here. Sealamin used to be the World Champion, and I survived the encounter with him. The champion at this hub can't be any worse.

Davivel: What about reporting our findings at the ruins to Redbeard?

Theron: That can wait. I'm going to walk in and challenge the champion.

Kayrentia: Shouldn't we rest? I am still very tired from the ordeal we faced at the ruins.

Theron: You guys don't have to fight, none of you would qualify as a gladiator. I'll call out the champion and you guys can watch with the audience.

They all go inside. The corridor is filled with ornate decorations containing the logo of the World Gladiatorial Combat Federation as well as pictures of former regional champions and legends such as Sealamin. Theron and his allies locate the arena's bar where he approaches the bartender, a dwarf.

Theron: Excuse me, I'm looking for the champion of this region.

Dwarf: The who? I don't know of this champion you speak of. Haven't seen him.... Can't say that I have....

Sheshmish: Will this refresh your memory?

The orc tosses 9 gold coins to the dwarven bartender.

Dwarf: Ah, now I remember. He ain't here. He's off defending his title at another arena. Oh, also, no floating skulls allowed in the bar. Get that thing out of my bar!

Neep: Neep!!!!

Neep floats behind Keifasar with a depressed expression on his face.

Keifasar: That's Neep. He's my pet!

Dwarf: Read the sign.

There is a sign behind the dwarf that states "No floating skulls allowed in this bar."

Theron: Neep is harmless. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

Dwarf: I don't make the rules, kid. Now you'll need to-

Sheshmish: Here. Now can Neep stay?

Sheshmish hands the dwarf another 5 gold coins.

Dwarf: I didn't see nothin. Now then.... The champion's out of town. If you're looking to fight there will be a match this evening to crown a new contender for his title. Are you interested?

Theron: Absolutely. Where do I sign up?

Dwarf: You're.... You actually want in on this? Kid, I like your courage, but this is gladiatorial combat. You wouldn't make it out alive.

Theron: I've battled with Sealamin Glimmergaunt and lived to tell the tale. Now am I good enough?

Dwarf: That was YOU!? I received word by carrier gryphon that a young warrior had been recommended by the legendary 19 time World Gladiatorial Combat Federation Champion Sealamin Glimmergaunt himself.... I guess I expected you to be of larger build.

Theron: I understand Sealamin was the champion of the world, not just this region. Would surviving a duel with him not qualify me for a match with the regional champion once he returns?

Dwarf: No. You'll have to win tonight's contendership battle. There are currently 11 others already signed up. If you're interested you need to get with Damgar out by the gates. He's a large Orc in a suit, can't miss him. I'd hurry though.... the match will begin soon.

Theron: Thank you. Come on, guys.

A couple of hours pass. Theron is in the training room scouting the competition. His Merry Band of Misfits had been shown to the stands. The 11 others in the room with him are the same that he will be facing in the battle later that day:

A cleric wearing white robes made out of minotaur skin.

A paladin, fully armored in blue plate mail. One could tell was in it for honoring his deity as well as his family, not the chance of killing other gladiators.

A rogue in brown and green sitting in the corner hissing at the other gladiators, like a snake waiting for a chance to strike.

A ranger wearing green hunter's garb, practicing his dual-wielding weapon skills. He appeared to be the type that gets an adrenaline rush from the sight of blood, especially his own.

A barbarian wearing a large horned mask that he refused to take off when asked to by the guards.

A wizard with a shaved head and green robes, he seemed to be trying to earn the approval of the other contenders.

A druid in blue robes who dwarfed Babba Dingo in build, the mountain dweller Theron encountered previously. He is almost as large as the bear that Babba had.

An amazon fighter with red hair and red armor under a white cape. The only female who would be competing in the match, she is already using her gender and manipulation tactics to try to turn the men against each other.

A bard with an obnoxious mustache and fancy green clothes, reciting tales of how he plans to increase the charisma appeal of the gladiatorial battle.

A monk in blue combat gear who appeared to have no problems breaking the rules if it meant receiving a better review.

A sorceror in white who had traveled all the way from the Moonsea region to make his return to the gladiatorial combat life after a recent hiatus.

Theron did not want to understimate any of his opponents, but none seemed to be anywhere near as lethal as Sealamin. He practiced his stances and maneuvers a bit until the guards motioned for the combatants to enter the arena. They all walked through a large door, which led to the location they would be fighting in. Theron could see his allies out in the audience. He waved at them, they each waved back at him except for Keifasar who appeared to be reading some type of codex in his seat next to the other party members. The guards positioned each gladiator on a different spot on the battlefield, not allowing anyone to move until the battle was to begin.... Each contender is standing in a circular formation to signify that it is every fighter for themselves. The battle begins by a loud war cry from Damgar the Orc who is standing watch by the gate.


Damgar: Now you may FIGHT!


Final Fantasy 7's battle theme begins playing and the screen shifts to a battle screen using a mosaic animation.


[YOUTUBE]et3hApN-ZME[/YOUTUBE]

The rogue wastes no time in trying to launch a quick attack on the wizard with his short sword, it hits. The wizard is already in critical condition, realizing he might be one of the first to be eliminated. The monk sees an opportunity to hit the rogue with a flurry of punches and succeeds. The bard begins singing a song. The wizard, knowing he is in critical condition casts Magic Missile on the druid, in an attempt to cause some damage while he still can. The barbarian runs up to the cleric to attack with his battleaxe. The cleric somehow managed to evade the attack which frustrates the barbarian, who enters berserker rage. Theron has a chance to hit several of the others at once now.

Theron: Hey! Over here! Come get me!

Theron's taunt successfully lures the paladin, barbarian, amazon fighter, and cleric toward him. Theron uses a Whirlwind attack once they are all in range. It hits all four of them. This kills the paladin while leaving both the cleric and barbarian bleeding. The sorcerer begins casting a spell.

The rogue stealthily sneaks over to the bard, who is still singing. He botches his attempt to sneak attack the bard, who continues singing. The bard finishes singing his song, everyone’s armor class is reduced significantly for the next 4 rounds. He goes over to attack the druid with his sickle, leaving the druid in a weak state, but the druid retaliates and attacks the bard with his quarterstaff, it hits. The amazon fighter leaps over to the druid and finishes him off using her longspear. This kills the druid.

The wizard casts Magic Missile on the bard. The barbarian, still in berserker rage attacks the amazon fighter with his battleaxe. He hits her, but she retaliates, killing the barbarian. The cleric, still bleeding from Theron’s attack successfully hits the rogue from behind. He hits, but the rogue retaliates and this kills the cleric.

Theron: Who's next? You! Take THIS!

Rather than attempting another Whirlwind Attack, Theron approaches the ranger and slashes valiantly with his falchion. His eyes and hair glow bright red as his sword catches on fire, burning the ranger upon impact. A critical hit! This kills the ranger.

The sorcerer casts Acid Splash on the rogue. The rogue then takes a big risk in going after Theron, it hits, but Theron is still in his adrenaline induced rage. He retaliates and draws his falchion to finish off the rogue.

Theron: Nice try, but I don't think so!

He lands a critical hit on the rogue, killing the rogue instantly. Theron’s eyes, hair, and sword return to their normal appearance. The monk attacks the amazon fighter in a flurry of hits. The bard moves over to the wizard to finish him off. He is bleeding profusely at this point, the bard’s attack kills the wizard.

The amazon fighter lunges at the sorcerer and kills the sorceror with one swift strike from her longspear. She is proving to be Theron’s most dangerous opponent in the battle. The monk runs over to the bard and kicks him, the bard falls to the floor and is bleeding but still conscious. He fights back by attacking the monk, but is not strong enough to deal a fatal blow. The monk attempts to retaliate, but botches and stumbles to the ground, which kills the monk. He was weak enough to not be able to withstand falling down.

Theron: I'm surprised you've lasted this long, bard. That was the last song you'll ever sing, though.

Theron sees how weak the bard is and slashes at him with his falchion. This kills the bard, leaving only the amazon fighter and Theron on the battlefield. The effects of the bard’s song are no longer in effect.

Theron: It's just you and me now, amazon. Attack me. I dare you!

The amazon figher, seemingly intimidated by her only remaining opponent, stumbles as she tries to hit Theron and she trips taking a little damage. Adrenaline is induced in Theron again, his eyes and hair glow bright red and he unleashes a ferocious critical hit on the amazon fighter, leaving her lifeless on the ground.

Theron: Game over.


The music stops playing. Scene shifts back to the colosseum in a mosaic animation. Theron, looks around and sees that none of the other gladiators remain. He waves to the crowd who give him a standing ovation. Damgar the Orc and two armored guards walk up to Theron.

Damgar: Congratulations on a fight well won, Mr Daggershield. You have a title match against the champion gladiator of this region the next time he is in town. Your other prize is that you may stay at the finest hotel in town this evening, free of charge for you and your whole party. Let us escort you back to the main hall.

Theron: Thank you, sir.

Theron leaves with the guards and goes back into the bar where he has a couple of drinks to celebrate his victory while he waits for his friends. The rest of his Merry Band of Misfits show up about 30 minutes later.

Davivel: Great job out there! I figured you would be too worn out from battling to visit with Redbeard so I recommend we go in the morning.

Theron: That is fine with me. I don't feel like dealing with Redbeard tonight anyway.

Kayrentia: How does it feel to win a match that big?

Theron: Amazing, although I do feel bad for those that lost their lives in today's battle. They knew what they were getting into though. As did I.

Sheshmish: I'm actually a bit bummed we get a free night at the inn. I could have won us enough money to pay for it at the casino and was looking forward to that chance.

Theron: There will be another opportunity for you to show off your gambling abilities. Where's Keifasar?

Davivel: He went back to his caravan to feed Neep and finish appraising that emerald from the temple.

Theron: Take Sheshmish and go get him. I don't trust him to be alone. Kayrentia and I will meet you at the inn. We have celebrating to do!

The Merry Band of Misfits leave the building and the scene fades out to black.

Meanwhile, in the real world.... Theron Daggershield (real name Shawn Daggers) is driving on his way to his upcoming match. A lot is on his mind concerning the possibility of becoming the new #1 contender for the Elite X Championship, as well as his previous matches. "What I've Done" by Linkin Park begins to play on the radio of Theron's Red 2009 Camaro as he continues driving. His thoughts can be heard in a voice-over while he drives and the song plays in the background.

Theron: (thinking to himself) Things have not gone the way I have planned in any of my matches up until today. I'm living my dream, I'm a pro wrestler in WZCW.... but I have yet to even win a match in the federation.... In the contract battle royal I almost had the win, it was just within my grasp, but I ultimately failed my spot check. I give credit to Coberer in his victory in that match, I should have been more aware of my surroundings in order to pick up the victory.

Then there was my first ever one on one match. I thought I had Grizzly Bob. I really thought I was going to win that one. In the end that did not happen. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I underestimated him. I am not angry at Bob at all. I have a lot of respect for him. The better man won, but I am still a rookie in this federation.

My most recent match was the most difficult yet.... former WZCW Champion Steven Holmes. Even after endless mental preparation, I was unable to get the job done. I cannot let that happen again! This contendership match is my ticket to getting my name out there. The pay-per-view's brand name is "Redemption". How perfect that I provide my fans with my own personal redemption on a show with the same name. A victory here in this match will solidify the fact that I belong here.

The "Item Catch" fanfare from "The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past" is heard, as Theron receives a text message. He checks his iPhone.

Good luck 2nite, sweetie! I wish I could be in your corner for the match. <3 Tiffany

With a smile on his face, Theron puts the iPhone into the cupholder to his right and his thoughts are once again heard through voice-over.

Theron: (thinking to himself) It won't just be Tiffany and my friends that I would be letting down if I lose again. I would be letting all of my fans down too. I cannot, no.... WILL NOT.... let my fans down again. I will become #1 contender for the Elite X Championship. I don't care if I have to go through Matt Tastic or S.H.I.T. in order to win that belt, but this is exactly the opportunity that I need. NOBODY else in that #1 contendership match wants this more than I do. I have to win. No other outcome is acceptable.

Scene shifts to a view of the road. Theron's car drives out of view, there are no other cars to be seen in any other direction, Theron's thoughts can still be heard out loud.

Theron: This is my moment. This is my.... Redemption.

Fade to black

 

[Dan Severn's Moustache]

ASCENSION:​

Sitting in his pitch-black high-rise office was none other than the General Manager of Aftershock Chuck Myles, shaking with anticipation with his eyes glued to the television screen, the only source of light in the room. Playing before him was the live action from Aftershock, in which Fallout was participating in.

“DON’T LET HIM GET YOU SEXTON! DON’T...YES, NOW PIN HIM!” Chuck screeched like a school girl, shuffling ever so slightly to the edge of his seat as nerves turned into excitement. Fallout was in the palm of his hand! But excitement turned to horror in a matter of seconds.

“YOU IDIOTS! DON’T ATTACK EACH OTHER!”Chuck screamed wildly, flailing his hands wildly at the television screen. “NONONONO!” he yelled again, before gazing on at the mayhem in the ring, flabbergasted.

“Here is your winner, Fallout!” blared from the TV as Chuck unleashed a fit of rage, hurling his television remote at the wall and shouting “GOD DAMN IT ALL!” at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t believe what had just transpired. His plan had been completely sabotaged, and Fallout was triumphant yet again. The simple act of teamwork had completely been thrown out of the window and both opponents had been dismantled.

It was at this point a concerned Leon Kensworth, who had heard the commotion coming from the office slipped his head through the open door and began to stare solemnly at the furious man tugging viciously at his hair. Leon had never seen his work colleague quite like this before. Horrified, yet intrigued, Leon continued to gaze in awe as the Aftershock General Manager forged his body into a ball on the ground, continuing to stare at the television in dismay.

“Are you alright?” said Leon Kensworth at last. This prompted a sudden reaction from Chuck Myles, who dispersed from his position and headed quickly to his computer.

“Yes. I’m fine”Chuck Myles said in a forcefully cool tone, attempting to retain some dignity after his recent outburst. Leon Kensworth on the other hand, through a quick analysis, could tell Chuck Myles was not fine.

“Look Chuck, you need to drop this grudge with Fallout, alright?” Leon said slowly and calmly. “You’re blowing things way out of proportion here. As long as we keep Fallout pre-occupied with strong competition, he’ll be no trouble to any of us.”

Chuck Myles couldn’t believe it. “Have you heard the words coming out your words Leon?!” he yelled with a crazed tone, startling Leon. “That…god I don’t even know what the fuck it is…but it attacked you! It almost killed you! How can you say the things you’re saying?! You’re an infidel! You’ve let that thing influence you with its fear!”

Leon Kensworth began to stutter during his attempt to intervene, but Chuck Myles had long passed the line of being reasonable regardless.

“I will NOT allow that thing’s fear to influence my team! I WILL NOT LET THAT THING RUN AMOK ANY LONGER!” Chuck then began to pant with rage, as sweat rained down from his brow. Chuck Myles had not been accustomed to such anger before for a very long time. Chuck Myles’s brain was engulfed with an overwhelming amount of thoughts about his next move.

Leon remained silent whilst the thoughts continued to rush through Chuck Myles’s head. Leon was right. Fallout simply hasn’t been pushed enough yet. Upon reflecting on the Contract Battle Royale, Chuck then had a wonderful idea.

“Fallout’s going in that battle royale.” Chuck Myles declared boldly. “Extreme team-work will prevail over that creature, and with people like Justin Cooper, Doctor Coberer and Grizzly Bob in that match, it’s going to have a lot of trouble.”

“The problem is though.” Leon Kensworth said, before pausing to take a deep breath. Leon was far out of his comfort zone in speaking his mind like this. “What guarantee is there that the roster will group together against Fallout here? You saw just now how those two guys struggled against him.”

With a glint in his eye, Chuck Myles let off a sly smile before leaning in closely to Kensworth and saying “Ever heard of propaganda?”

“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?” Leon replied sarcastically. “Go on then, tell me your plan.”

“I’m putting a bounty on Fallout’s head in that match.” Chuck Myles said, quivering with excitement. “Whoever eliminates Fallout from the proceedings shall receive...an award.”

“What award?”

“Money? Fame? 15 minutes with Showtime? God knows, but I’ll make sure to make it worth their while. I’ll spread the word by poster.”

Leon Kensworth began to look incredibly anxious as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Err...You do realise...Fallout could see those posters, right?”

Chuck Myles shot out of his chair annoyed.

“Of course I realise that! I assume it already knows what I’m doing anyway, if it’s the perceptive genius it claims to be!”

“Spreading those posters could be your death warrant.” Leon warned sternly, with newfound confidence in his voice.

“Pah. I’m already a dead man walking as long as it’s here.” Chuck Myles said casually. And yet, a hint of fear could be heard.

There was a deep sudden silence as both men took in their respective situations. Chuck didn’t like Leon’s lack of devotion to the cause. Fallout was a true evil that had yet to show his true form yet. But the seed was there. The fire was beginning to devour everything in its path. And Fallout’s sadism would not be quenched, until the last man standing had fallen.

To Leon, Chuck had started to go mad. The man had taken it upon his shoulders to become a vigilante, and he was clearly outmatched against a force that had yet to be truly tested. Chuck did not have an endgame in sight. Leon knew that Fallout had drawn accustomed to the battle royale format after his previous loss, and that Fallout could easily redeem his defeat. Not only that, but he knew Fallout wanted to redeem his defeat. Revenge is a downhill battle. And Chuck was merely adding fuel to the fire by spreading his propaganda around.

“Well...” Leon broke the silence. “I’ve got a backstage segment any minute now. You alright here on your own?”

“Fine. I was fine anyway.” Chuck Myles said quickly, without lifting his head from the computer screen.

Leon Kensworth began to stand up and depart from the room before Chuck Myles exclaimed “Have fun interviewing Fallout next week.”

Leon simply gestured with both thumbs up, but he couldn’t help mummuring a “Shit.” to himself in the heat of the moment as he exited the darkened room.

***​

“They will come for my blood, yet they shall drown in their own.”

Fallout snarled this to himself whilst scanning his eyes at the poster on the wall. To say it was derogatory was an understatement. The poster included a photograph of Fallout from the WZCW website, and below it were the words:

FALLOUT
REMOVE IT FROM THE BATTLE ROYALE, AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE A REWARD.
CHUCK

Fallout chuckled to himself “Poor judgement, Mr Myles. Any vigilantes who want to try and play hero tonight shall be exterminated like vermin, above all else. This is far from war Chuck Myles, this is merely pest control.”

Fallout began to analyse possible participants in the battle royale. They were all the same to him: Tadpoles, struggling to gain necessary momentum. For Fallout had labelled tonight as his ascension. He was ready to escalate past the pathetic competition that he had faced in recent weeks. He didn't care whoever he faced when he won, whether it was the human attempting in vain to escape the limits of humanity, or the un-perceptive fool who braced his humanity strongly, and disregarded Fallout to be nothing more than a circus attraction. Fallout learnt of the true suffering of being a freak show participant first-hand. He had special plans for both spectrums of the flawed race that was humanity. Their suffering would be glorious and Fallout yearned for it profoundly.

Fallout sensed someone in his presence in the desolate corridor. Twisting his neck, he recognised the man with a microphone in hand to be none other than Leon Kensworth. Another hapless interviewer that fear itself would engulf.

“I must commend you on your bravery.” Fallout stated sinisterly. “Your colleagues drop like flies, you harbour injuries, yet you still speak with me? Impressive, for a human.”

Leon Kensworth was not going to allow himself to be drawn into Fallout’s mind-games.

“So Fallout, you’re in the dark match battle royale tonight.” Leon then forced a nervous smile before delving into detail. “Can you tell me your thoughts on the match tonight?”

“Tonight is my redemption Leon.” Fallout purred with the purest pleasure. “Tonight is where I avenge the fluke that was my Contract Battle Royale, and I annihilate all competition, no matter how devoted they are to the cause.”

Fallout began to grow angrier as he continued his rant.

“Tonight is where I escalate from the darkness from WZCW and send a statement not only to the Elite X Champion, but to the entire roster! None of the humans are safe from my torrent of suffering!”

Fallout reached his crescendo, throwing his clenched fists up into the air and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“TONIGHT I AVENGE MY PAST! THIS VICTORY AND THE ELITE X CHAMPIONSHIP ARE A MONUMENT TO MY AGONY! ALL I HAVE ENDURED THROUGHOUT MY LIFE, THE EXPLOSION, THE MASK, THE SPETSNAZ, THE TORMENT; ALL AVENGED!!!”

Leon Kensworth began to back away from the madman, but in a sudden mood swing, Fallout’s hands fell and he told Leon “Mr Kensworth, I have more to say. Don’t you need this evidence for Mr Myles?”

Leon was shaken. How the hell did he know of these things? Before he could think, Fallout began to speak.

“Any true dreams of mine died alongside a man named Viktor Petrov, Mr Kensworth.” Fallout said sorrowfully. “Therefore, I am going to kill everybody else’s dream tonight. Tonight, I will purify that ring as the lone survivor, I will seize the Elite X Championship and I will destroy the dreams of all my hopeful contenders, as well as their bodies and any trace of hope.”

Fallout then turned to Leon Kensworth, who appeared to be disgusted, but dared not to voice his displeasure.

“Yet you are unsatisfied.” Fallout grumbled, disgruntled. Then energy spouted into Fallout’s voice. “But you have yet to witness the beauty I am about to create tonight. You are uneducated in appreciating the carnage that shall occur tonight. But by night’s end, you shan’t be.”

Leon Kensworth couldn’t stand it anymore. He simply dropped his microphone and ran from the lunatic, not wanting to intoxicate his head with the sick thoughts of Fallout’s. But Fallout failed to care.

“For the road of chronic and anfractuous despair has begun.” He murmured quietly to himself. Those words comforted him to the ring and throughout the match.

***​

A tall, balding middle aged man donning a brown coat and jeans slowly approached the poster on the wall pertaining to Fallout. Studying it carefully for a few seconds, he then reached into his pocket and pulled out a handheld radio. This was the moment he had been waiting for. A moment he had been savouring for a very long time.

“Viktor is here.” He said with a thick Russian accent, before adopting a smug smile and walking away from the scene.

 

[Dave]

Tuesday. September 24th 2013
Sprint Centre - Kansas City

10:52pm

Another loss, that was all that was going through the mind of Bobby Adams as he left the ring of Aftershock 28. Before the match, he was sure that he could have gotten the better of Fallout and Joey Sexton, after all he had outlasted them in the Contract Battle Royal not so long ago. But it was not to be, Fallout had taken advantage of a lapse in concentration to steal the moment - and the match away from the New Hampshire native.

Adams had gotten used to losing and although it still hurt, he had quickly realised that WZCW was a million miles away from NHPW. The talent here was stronger, more determined and most importantly more cut-throat. Adams had quickly gleamed from his three matches in WZCW that any slight weakness or lapse could cost you dearly. And as he struggled through the back and into the locker room, he was cursing himself and his luck.

Adams was in no mood to hang around either. Truth be told this had been a long fortnight for him as questions about his family life and professional life began to make themselves clear. The pain of possibly having to leave WZCW compounded by another devastating loss when he was sure that this would have been the first win of his professional career.

Grabbing his jacket from the locker, he could feel a vibration could be felt from his phone in the pocket. Twisting the leather until he found the pocket, Bobby grabbed at phone and answered it before he could even look to see who was calling.

For a second, Bobby only listened as a panicky voice bombarded him from down the line.

Bobby: Wait! Calm down! What happened!?

Again, Bobby waited for sense from his worried caller.

Bobby: What's wrong with my Mom, Steph? What the Hell is going on?

Bobby grabs the rest of his belongings from the locker and heads out the door with pace, listening closely to the exasperated and breathless words of his shocked wife.

Bobby: She's at Elliot Hospital? I'll be there as soon as I can, Steph. I promise.

* * *​

Tuesday. September 24th 2013
Rimmon Heights, Manchester, New Hampshire

4:31pm

Chunk hadn't seen the light of day in almost 100 hours. He had promised himself that he would find time to visit Betty next door but he couldn't bring himself to go over there, even though he had promised Bobby that he would. The truth of the matter was that he had resented Bobby for months now. Bobby had taken his place in WZCW and had left the NHPW Heavyweight Championship to Chunk as a permanent reminder of how Chunk hadn't gotten there first.

For 4 days the only thing that had gone through Chunk's mind was confused thoughts of retribution on Bobby. But leaving Betty Adams to rot was not the way to do it, he knew that. But his indecision had let this become the result. He couldn't bring himself to willingly leave her to her own devices but he couldn't face her without a burning resentment beginning to form. So for 4 days, Chunk had festered in his home, the lights off and a pack of smokes permanently fixed to his hand.

100 hours of confused and befuddled thoughts had blighted Chunk but one thing was absolutely clear - Bobby Adams had to pay for this.

* * *​

Tuesday, September 24th, 2013
Rimmon Heights, Manchester, New Hampshire

9:31pm

Betty Adams had put herself to bed that night; a moment of clarity in an altogether unclear life. Steph and Calvin had insisted on staying to be there for the matriarch of the Adams' family but Betty could still fend for herself. Her illness was debilitating at times but today - at least - she felt okay.

Truth be told, however, Betty had never liked being alone. She had found Ray - her husband - at a very young age and had settle down before she had even began her twenties. For 40 years Ray had slept beside her, giving her warmth when it was cold and security when she was scared. Tonight, Betty had thought to herself, she could really use that security.

For the last 17 years, Betty had been without anyone at night. When Bobby had concluded his tasks in the house, he had gone home too and left Betty to her own devices. But even Bobby had better things to do with his time than look after his own mother Betty had thought. She never blamed him for wanting to travel the world and leaving her without any real care; he was young and the world was his oyster.

But as she finally nodded off to sleep that night. she had really wished for someone to hold her and tell her it would be okay. There was something in the air that night, she could feel it like the warm cool New Hampshire breeze that rolled in her open window.

CRASH!​

Betty sat up immediately, the sound of broken glass still ringing in her ears as the sudden adrenaline and fear washed over her. Fetching her glasses from the night-stand, she hastily put them onto the bridge of her nose, always looking towards the door in the corner of her room. But for minutes, there was nothing but silence. Could she have imagined it? No, there was no way.

Creeeeeak...​

There it was; proof if she needed it. Someone was in her house and Betty knew it. But what would she do? What could she do?She could barely walk up a flight of stairs never mind wrestle off an intruder. But she couldn't wait any longer, she wouldn't. The fear of the situation had been stifling but she would be damned if she let it freeze her altogether. Slowly but surely, Betty lifted herself from her before slowly walking over the cold floor and opening the bedroom door. Making her way across the landing, she peered over the bannister; looking for any proof that there was indeed someone downstairs. But the noises had stopped for now.

Creeeeeak...​

Betty: Stephanie? Is that you?

Betty quickly spoke out in the darkness as another terrifying noise rang in her ears. She had never been so scared in all of her life, the tingling of adrenaline had turned into shocking horror as her words filled the small house. Betty clung to the wooden bannister, hoping that she had imagined the whole ordeal but she knew in her heart that she was in trouble.

Betty: I don't have anything valuable but take whatever you want. Just leave me alone.

The confidence in Betty's words began to subside as the sentence finished, her voice breaking as a frightened tear began to run down her cheek. Moving around the bannister, Betty approached the top of the stairs, feeling the anticipation build up inside of her. Peering down, Betty couldn't see anything. With one step, Betty began to descend the steps, knowing that whatever was down there would be no good for her. But she needed to know what was there. Another step down the wooden steps until there it was. A shadow of a man in her own sitting room. A horrifying, terrifying shadow that meant her worst fears had been realised.

Letting out a shriek, Betty fell, tumbling down the stairs like a lifeless sack as darkness consumed her sight.

* * *​

Wednesday, September 25th, 2013
Rimmon Heights, Manchester, New Hampshire

06:58am

Bobby Adams had never been so frightened in all his life. His mother was ill, he knew that. But to what extent was a complete mystery right now. Any information he had gleaned from Steph was broken up into horrified part-sentences obscured by emotion. Luckily enough, he had been able to book a flight from Kansas City within a couple of hours and had boarded the plane not long after. But throughout his flights, Bobby could not contain his fear. He would never forgive himself for this.

Bursting into the ward at Elliot, Bobby searched the area for his family until finally the sobbing of Stephanie Adams became audible. Rounding the corner, Bobby was surprised to see so many people. His wife Stephanie noticed him first, her arms draped around his sister Debra and his son, Calvin. Stephanie immediately jumped out of her chair, moving towards her husband and embracing him warmly.

Bobby: Where is she? What's happened?

Steph: She's in the ICU, Bobby. They don't know what happened. They said that she had fallen and they didn't know what was going to happen. This is all my fault, Bobby. I'm so sorry!

With that, a flood of tears began to fall from the blue eyes of Stephanie Adams.

Bobby: This isn't your fault Steph. These thin-

As Bobby pulls his wife in closer to his breast, he scans the room, picking out a sombre Chunk in the corner. With that, Bobby's speech trails off. Bobby quickly gives his wife a rub on the back and moves towards his oldest friend slowly.

Bobby: Chunk?

Chunk sits quietly, his head in his hands and his complexion a very pale white. As he raises his head, Bobby notices a few tears in his eyes.

Chunk: I'm so sorry, Bobby. This is all my fault. I should have been there more often... I could have stopped all of this.

Bobby waits patiently as Chunk stands up and looks him in the eye for the first time in months.

Chunk: I'm just so sorry.

Bobby: This isn't your fault, Chunk. I don't even know what happened to her.

Chunk swallows hard, brushing a tear from his right cheek. He turns away from Bobby with a breathless sigh. Seemingly giving up, Chunk slumps back into the lime green chair from which he only rose from seconds ago. Bobby senses his friends emotional instability and joins him without hesitation.

Chunk: I heard it, Bobby. I heard a smash... Glass. I thought it was just kids being kids really. If I had known that it was your Mom's house, I would have went over there as soon as I had heard it. But I didn't, Bobby. My pride got in the way.

Bobby nods his head slightly, listening intently to every word.

Chunk: It was only when I heard the scream that I knew she was in trouble, Bobby. I looked out of the window and someone was running from the house. I went over there and...

Bobby puts a hand on his friends back as a steady stream of tears begin to fall from Chunk's eyes.

Chunk: When I went into the house, she was just lying there motionless; her eyes shut. I thought she was gone Bobby. And all I could think about was how I was going to tell you that your Mom had gone. How was I going to tell you that this was all my fault? I could have been over there every day like I told you I would be. But we had gone our separate ways and I just hated you for that.

Chunk turns towards Bobby, his eyes red and irritated now.

Chunk: I really hated you for that, Bobby. But this has brought me back from the edge. Some things just aren't important in the grand scheme of things. I am so sorry about the way I acted, Bobby. I forgot everything; I was an asshole. But I'm here now, Bobby. I'm here for you.

Chunk reaches out a hand and grabs Bobby's with it.

Bobby: Thanks, Chunk. I really appreciate that.

Bobby swallows his emotions and turns towards the closed room door before him; the name "Betty Adams" written on in with the word "Critical care" beneath it.

* * *​

Wednesday, September 25th, 2013
Rimmon Heights, Manchester, New Hampshire

7:35pm

Bobby woke to find an almost-empty waiting room. It had been a few hours now since he had sent everyone else home. Stephanie really didn't want to leave but this wasn't good for her or Calvin. As much as he really wanted to hold them tight and feel some form of human connection for a while, that was the right thing to do. Truth be told, he didn't even feel himself getting tired but the travel and the situation had taken everything out of him. Checking his watch, Bobby took a deep breath inwards and fixed his position on the seat.

Scanning the room once again, Bobby noticed another familiar face in Jim Hooper, the NHPW owner and promoter. He hadn't laid eyes on Jim in almost 3 months but this accident had seemingly brought everyone together, it was heart-warming really. With a bunch of red roses in his hand, Hooper sat quietly clutching at the horticulture.

Bobby: Jim?

Hooper turns his head slightly, enough to see Bobby anyway.

Hooper: Hey, Kid. I didn't want to wake you.

Bobby: You didn't. I shouldn't be sleeping anyway.

Hooper: Take all the rest you need, Kiddo.

Bobby rubs at his eyes before getting out of his chair and moving across the silent room.

Bobby: What are you doing here, Jim?

Hooper lets out a small sigh as he dips his head to his chest.

Hooper: Just checking up on an old friend, Son.

Bobby: I'm okay really, just tired.

Hooper shoots Bobby an incredulous look as a slight smile appears on the old man's face.

Hooper: Not you, dumbass! You Mom. We go way back. Betty and your Dad used to be good friends with Jean and I before she died. After that, I didn't really see Betty or Ray any more. I think they hated seeing my so distressed but you can never tell; we just drifted apart. And when your Dad died, the bridge was well and truly burned.

Bobby sits down beside his former boss, resting his head against the wall behind him and Jim presses on.

Hooper: She's a good woman, Bobby; a really caring gentle soul. This should never have happened to her. But you can't blame yourself, Son.

Bobby: How do you know I blame myself?

Hooper: Because I know you, perhaps better than anyone else. You've always been like that; too caring about other people and not enough about yourself. But this isn't your fault, you have to believe that.

Bobby remains silent as a lump of emotion begins to appear in his throat.

Bobby: If I were here, I could have stopped that happening, Jim. I would have been there at that time.

Hooper: But you weren't there, Bobby. You were off living your dream and making that woman more proud of you than anyone else could ever imagine. Betty was never really a fan of wrestling but your Dad? He loved it! I remember Ray and I relaxing in your Mom's living room with a cold beer and a TV dinner every Saturday night. And all we would do is talk about wrestling, it meant everything to the guy. I've never met a man with more passion about anything in my life. I run a promotion and your Dad would have run circles around me if he were in my shoes. But he had a family to look after and that's where his dream stopped, I guess.

Bobby: Why are you telling me this?

Hooper: Because you need to hear it, Son. You Mom hated that Saturday night. There she was, nursing your brother and sister and Ray would be watching TV with a jackass like me in the other room. But do you know something? She never complained. She never once told Ray to get off his lazy ass and go look after his kids.

Bobby looks at Jim, lost in his tale.

Hooper: He was passionate, Bobby. The only thing he was more passionate about was his family and making sure that they had everything that he never did. He couldn't live his dream and he wanted to make damn sure that you 3 did. That was the one thing that your Mom and Dad had in common; more than anything else.

Bobby: I can't go back to WZCW, Jim. Not with my Mom like this. And my family life in turmoil. 3 defeats since my début; I'm not cut out for WZCW.

Hooper turns to Bobby, reinvigorated.

Hooper: But you're passionate, Bobby! You always have been. That's why you were my Champion. That's why people came to see you. The passion for what you were doing was crystal clear to anyone who ever watched you wrestle a match. Here you are, on the verge of the biggest match of your professional career and you're just throwing in the towel? And what would that prove, Bobby? Your Mom is still going to be in that hospital bed and your family is going to struggle financially again. Everything you have done will have been for nothing, do you understand that?

Bobby turns away from Bobby, his eyes becoming saturated with tears.

Hooper: Betty and Ray Adams never raised a quitter. They raised someone they were sure would live the dreams that they couldn't. Yes, it's hard and of course you're going to have to leave your family from time to time. But this desire to succeed, to beat all of those men in the Elite X match is what makes you Bobby Adams. You'll get over this, Bobby. And if your Mom were conscious, I guarantee that she would tell you the same thing. You're destined for so much more than this, Bobby.

Jim stands up before handing the flowers to a desolate Bobby.

Hooper: This is you chance, Bobby. Your chance to make it all worth it, to avenge your Mother and be a true reminder of your father's passion. Don't let it slip away, Son. This can't all be for nothing.

 

[Dirk]

Far away from the city, in a quiet little town cloaked in dense flora and rolling hills, a low grumble tears through the mountain air. Heavy, water-laden clouds roll in, forming a grey wall above the unassuming town. The country folk stir as wooden shutters slam their windows. The flashes of white can be seen darting between the dark clouds.

A storm is coming...

*****

At a WZCW house show, Grizzly&#8217;s low grumble is heard, tearing through the dressing room. He is undoing his tightly-laced boots. The dressing room door creaks and the crisp, stiletto-heeled steps of Becky Serra enter the room, followed by her anonymous two-man crew.

Grizzly: Good eve&#8217;nin&#8217;, ma&#8217;am! Looks like you caught me with my boots down, but still... it&#8217;s always a pleasure to see you.

Becky: Likewise, Grizzly...

Grizzly studies Becky with her perfectly blow-dried hair in her little pink business suit. Even though she was constantly surrounded by the chaos of pro wrestling, she always offered a warm but professional conversation. Grizzly scratches his stubbly beard with his thumb.

Becky: Could we ask you a favour, Grizzly?

Grizzly: I&#8217;m all ears, ma&#8217;am.

Becky: I know you&#8217;re quite busy at this time, but I was wondering if you could give me and the viewers back home something... a message to take home in preparation of the curtain-raiser at Redemption?

Flashes of mischief can be seen dancing behind Grizzly&#8217;s eyes.

Grizzly: Of course, Miss Serra.

*****

The Greenville day-care centre is bustling with even more activity than usual. A lone staff member jogs on the premises, carrying two infants at her hips.

???: Bubba, Walter, Jem, git yer asses inside, NOW!

Exuberant children, mucky from the day&#8217;s play, sprint across the playground. Deedee is fighting an uphill battle in trying to hurry the children out of harm&#8217;s way.

Deedee: Don&#8217;t you know a storm&#8217;s a-comin&#8217;?

Barely had the words left her cherry red lips, when the sky is zigzagged by electricity. At the thunderous crack that followed, tiny arms finally let go of the jungle gym and dropped plastic spades hit the sandpit.

Deedee: That&#8217;s right, you squirts! Don&#8217;t listen to me, listen to the Mama Nature! Let&#8217;s wrap it up, people!

Deedee rushes inside, finishes the headcount and bars the facility&#8217;s brightly coloured doors shut. She rolls down the green and orange polka dot curtains, blocking the children&#8217;s view of the savage storm outside. Donning her bravest smile, she coaxes some of the younger children into ignoring the rattling of rain onto the tin roof.

Deedee: Now who&#8217;s ready for some strawberry milk and stories?

*****

Becky: Whenever you&#8217;re ready, Grizzly...

Grizzly gets in position and the camera starts rolling.

Grizzly: Gather &#8216;round, all you bear cubs out there! Come closer, I want all o&#8217; you to hear me loud &#8216;n&#8217; clear!

Grizzly looks straight into the camera and waves the viewers closer. He looks over his shoulder, as if guarding a precious secret.

Grizzly: I need to tell you guys this...

The building hushes in anticipation. Suddenly, Grizzly&#8217;s voice is back to its normal bellow.

Grizzly: This October at Redemption &#8217;13, there will be but one person left in the battle royal and that somebody is none other than the Big, Bad Bear himself! I am the toughest, I am the fiercest competitor in that fight and just like in nature, the strongest will dominate! For too long have I been pussyfootin&#8217; around, learnin&#8217; the ropes and not wanting it enough. Well, let me share a li&#8217;l secret with y&#8217;all &#8211; Daddy&#8217;s hungry for some GOLD!

*****

???: Hello, dearie!

Granny Brown&#8217;s raspy, but soothing voice breezes across the wooden cabin. She enters, closing both her bright yellow umbrella, then the large wooden door behind her. Knowing full well the terror of Granny wielding a rolled-up newspaper, Digger hops off the wooden couch and his wagging, stubby tail indicates a greeting. Her pale, wrinkly hand strokes the plush pelt on his rump.

Granny: Who&#8217;s a good boy?

Suddenly, the thunder rattles the Rottweiler. He cowers away from the boom. His nails scrape along the floorboards as the panic-stricken dog backs away from the cabin windows.

Granny: Hush, boy...

The old woman kneels down beside the canine, her purple smock embracing the both of them. Digger looks up at Granny and lets out a whine. She pats him on the head and pulls him closer.

Granny: There, there, pup. You&#8217;re warm, dry and safe here. Grizzly will be back, but in the meantime, you have me.

*****

With the camera still rolling, Grizzly approaches the lens.

Grizzly: I will say this &#8211; The loyal and trusted fans of WZCW will have nothin&#8217; to fear from me. You&#8217;ve been good to me and I want to repay you folks by winnin&#8217; us that Elite X title! That&#8217;s right, I&#8217;m enterin&#8217; this tournament for all my fans out there! You&#8217;re the reason I want to be the best. Your support is what drives me to reach my peak. My supporters are the best crowd in wrestling today and THEY DESERVE THEIR CHAMPION, DAMMIT!!

He motions for a belt across his waist.

Grizzly: I want nothin&#8217; more than to give you hard-workin&#8217; supporters good value for money... but every wrestler in the battle royal better PRAY that somebody else eliminates them first, because if I get hold o&#8217; them... IT AIN&#8217;T GONNA BE PRETTY! The pay-per-view is where Grizzly Bob is getting himself some redemption of his own and the battle royal is just the beginnin&#8217;.

Grizzly shoots a glance to his side and points to the locker room window.

Grizzly: There&#8217;s a big ol&#8217; storm a-brewin&#8217;...

Grizzly starts to pace around the room. The adrenaline causes little drops of sweat to form on his forehead.

Grizzly: There&#8217;s a storm brewin&#8217;, ready to sweep through WZCW. Can you feel it gathering? That storm...

Grizzly draws in a deep breath and belts out a mighty roar, baring his teeth.

Grizzly: ...IS ME!

 

[Jessie Lynn DivaGirl]

A loss is a powerful thing on a person who has lived with fear of loss. It makes you question what you should change and what you should change back. It makes you question the choices you've made and what you could have done differently. For example, why didn't I kick that pest in the face when he went to steal MY victory?

Why do I stay with Justin and Sam is a reoccuring one. Sure, Sam is my best friend and Justin is the love of my life. But they are becoming something I hate:

A distraction.

Te shadows surrond me. This is part of walking with Obsession. It surronds you, corners you until you're completely alone then attacks you, shapes you to its liking. And while Obsession has you in its grasp, the feeling is really good. So for now, I let those shadows grasp me, twist and pull.

You fool Isabel. Thinking you could do it on your own.

You need us. You know you do.

Follow our lead.

Join us.

The voices are loud. One is petting my hair while the other yank me apart and shove me back together.

What fitting that we are taking you in time for Redemption. Redemption is all you have now.

You must become number one contender.

For your father. For your honor.

For yourself.

When they have finished I amno longer yesterday's Izzy. I am today's Isabel, dangerous and angry. They say a woman's wrath is nothing to be challenged. So far I haven't been much of an example to that statement. But I will be. After all, the Pirates had to go 20 years before springing out and snatching the playoffs from the Reds. The key is patience.

An Obsession of course, who wants nothing more than a lusty affair with Success. And I want it too.

Cut them from your life.

No distractions.

No ties with doubt.

No room for love.

Standing up from the floor of my shower, I pay head to the voices. I dry and dress quickly and glimpse myself in the mirror. Obsession has turned me dark and pale, like I'm sickly. But I smile at the ghost. This is all that is needed.

My heart is fighting for control, but my mind is too strong. One day I will regret this, but now Obsession is whispering for me to do it.

Hey Izzy.

A pang of sadness stings my heart. Justin is the only man I have ever loved. Sam comes in. She's the only friend I've ever had.

I've been thinking... With all the mess that's been going on, it's not a good idea for me to get distracted.

What, so you need more workout time and less fun?

Poor naive Sam. Justin stiffens. He sees what's coming and is getting ready to fight.

I need you two to move out.

There is silence. A lot of it. Sam is dumbstruck, thinking I've gone nuts. Justin's angry. He's been waiting for a reason to leave me. It's been building, the tiredness. He's tired of the bull shit I serve day in and day out. He's sick of me. Then he stands and I prepare for the fight.

Fine. We'll go.

Sam and I stare at him in shock. He pushes past me up to our room to get his things. Sam slowly makes her way to her room, glancing at me, waiting for me to call them back, say it was a joke.

I don't call them back.

Justin comes back down first, two bags in his hands. He's been preparing for this. We stare at each other a long while before he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. He studies the box for a while before speaking.

I was going to give you this. I thought maybe, somehow it would bring out a different side in you. I kept telling myself that I loved you and that I would make it work. But I can't.

He looks up at me, his beautiful eyes red. Somewhere inside is a feeling I can't have. Not while the shadows have control and Obsession holds my hand.

You'll be better without me.

At that second my heart broke free from the shadow's and told Justin to go. Those five words were hard to squeeze, but they were a sad truth. As soon as they were said, my heart stepped back and slowly split in two.

Justin lets one tear roll down his cheek befre setting the box on a table as Sam comes down. Without a word, they leave my home, and I am alone with the shadows.

Good. You've passed step one.

Time to train.

Time to win.

Join us.

The shadows surrond me and I feel myself darken with anger. I let go of the emoitions and let the shadows overtake me, fill me and distort me into a raging monster of madness.

It is a lonely path I walk.

Obsession holds my hand, leading me astray from the light.

The shadows are now a part of me.

If I fail, I lose every chance to take everything back.

I close my eyes and sink into a dark abyss, from which few have ever resurfaced.

 

[Remix]

The Ouroborus Chronicles: Chapter 4 - Accomplice

Alan Ken pulls his smart phone out of his pocket, taking note of the time as he moves to return it to his pocket he feels it vibrate. Swiping the screen to read the message, "Turn around? What the f..."

"You have arrived." Alan spins around, to be confronted with an old, sickly looking man; the only skin visible is his face. The rest covered by a long black coat and gloves. "Good."

"Who the hell are you?" Alan takes a step back from the man, something about him puts him on edge.

"That is unimportant. Now come, I don't have much time to discuss what I must." The old man walks in the direction of an empty bench, Alan swallows and follows the stranger.

Alan looks to the skies for a moment, as if silently asking God for help. "Your name doesn't matter, huh? Well how about you tell me why you called me out here."

"Now that, is the question you should have opened with." He sits down, something about his demenour suggests the walk was much harder for him than it was Alan. "The answer is twofold. That He has not yet contacted you makes you valuable."

Alan sits. "He? What... never mind, stupid question."

"Not stupid, merely... unimportant. You do not need to know such details."

"Why would 'he' try to contact me? I'm just an intern at a wrestling company."

The man shakes his head in amusement. "You are not just an intern. You are something far more interesting." He pauses for a moment. "You are like me."

Alan snorts, trying to suppress a laugh. "How do you figure that?"

"You and I live in a world of fantasies and lies, but are not part of it. Few others can say the same."

Alan looks confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"My story shall be told, but now is not the time. You though were born into this world, christened with its madness. You shall see for yourself what an asset that is in time."

Alan frowns. "Dad was a wrestler, yeah but I was bought up by Mum. I still don't get what you mean."

"Would you like a demonstration?" He waits a moment for Alan to signal his agreement. "Take the announced pre-show match for Redemption, I think that will provide the most fodder for proof."

"The Elite X qualification match?"

"Precisely." He pauses to make sure that Alan is listening. "There are two common breeds of denizen in this world, both represented within the match. Those that delude themselves into thinking their pasts matter. Adams' trivial existence for example, obsessed over his every past action as if his days main eventing high school gyms is why he is unable to succeed. Cooper too falls victim, his one night of glory pales into insignificance compared to his failure to capitalise upon it. Those whom he has defeated have earned their places in the history books Cooper will be a footnote within. Fallout also falls into this group, although he blurs the line between the breeds. He believes himself a monster, yet defines himself by an event responsible more for thyroid cancer and long lived isotopes than anything lasting, even increased safety for nuclear reactors. Finally, Garth Black. A life wasted a multitude of ways that he claims to have put behind him but like Fallout he defines himself by what he no longer is, proving that he lacks the capacity to move on."

Silence hangs in the air, letting both men digest what's been said. "So, what about the rest?"

"The larger group of denizens are characters rather than people. They could only exist within this world. The comic who traded rim shots for chair shots; the shrew who would stab her mother in the back wasting her wiles in the only profession where physical retribution is mandatory; the plastic sword wielder whose eccentricity attracts fans not awkward stares; the pest who's given a pay cheque for everyone who he can make lie down on a canvas sheet rather than a spot on a register; the wild man hunting gold rather than food; the abuse victim who is rewarded for continuing the cycle of sadism; finally we have the poster boy of eating disorders being constantly enabled."

Alan, who has been keeping track of the rant on his fingers, looks up. "What about the last guy? Coberer, I think."

The man laughs "The warren goes deeper than you know for that one. But would you say that you've ever met another person like him?" He waits a moment, "didn't think so." He glances at something in the distance. "But time is up. You asked me my name; consider me the snake with no end or beginning. We will meet again." The man stands and slowly walks towards the nearest exit where a car is waiting to bring him back to SWN head quarters.

 

[Skairipa Matrix]

The Final Chapter:

July 29, 2013 6:00 PM
A Local Cafe, Los Angeles, California​

The scene fades into the inside of a cafe where Dustin Hunter sits with his manager, Katie Silva as they sit at a table and sip their coffees and as the causal small talk finishes we listen in on the conversation.

Dustin: I know we agreed to avoid this topic as much as possible, but you seem unhappy every time we've been around Azazel or even bring him up. If you're so unhappy maybe you should just quit your contract.

Katie: That's not exactly an option on the table for me right now...

Katie sips her coffee as Dustin looks confused.

Dustin: Why?

Katie: I'd rather not discuss it. Is that alright?

The two look at each other, waiting to see who will break the awkward silence as Dustin slowly nods in an understanding way.

Dustin: I guess so. I'm just trying to do what it takes to make you happy.

Katie: I know you are and I appreciate that, but this is a topic I'd rather not talk about right now. Maybe at some point in the future we could revisit it but as of right now, it's off the table.

Dustin again nods as they both take a sip of their drinks and the scene fades out.

September 23. 11:00 PM
Sprint Center, Kansas City, Missouri​

Chris KO is standing backstage as Aftershock has just gone off the air. He seems to be ready to leave the arena when suddenly, someone can be heard yelling "KO!" and when Chris turns around he sees Dustin Hunter marching up to him, fuming mad.

Dustin: What the hell was that shit out there? You cost me my match!

Hunter shoves KO, who tries to control his temper and shrugs off the shove.

Chris: Your match doesn't matter. What matters is me sending a message to Strikeforce that they will never be as good as me! The sooner you realize that, the better kid.

Chris grabs his EurAsian Championshp and starts to walk away, but Dustin grabs him by the shoulder, spins him around and slams him against the wall.

Dustin: Hey! I'm not done with you yet! You say I don't matter but yet two weeks in a row you have stuck your nose in MY business!

Dustin has his hand against the throat of Chris KO, but KO twists his arm to make him move it then slams Hunter against the wall and puts his forearm across the rookies throat and presses down to cut off his air.

Chris: If you EVER pull that one on me again, you won't live to tell the tale! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a title match to prepare for....something you'll never have to do.

Chris chuckles and pulls his arm away as Hunter slides down into a sitting position against the wall with a pissed off look on his face as Chris picks up his EurAsian Championship off the ground and puts it over his shoulder. He takes one final look at Hunter, who starts to rise to his feet but after a look from KO that says "Don't try it kid." he just stands against the wall and watches KO walk away smugly as the camera focuses back on Hunter, who clenches his fist in anger.

Dustin: I try to help you take out Strikeforce and you don't give a damn. I try to prove myself to you and again you don't give a damn. Well Chris, after Redemption you WILL give a damn about me! Rest assured I will make my presence felt....and I'll start by becoming the #1 contender to the Elite X Championship!

Dustin gives an evil but angry smirk as the camera focuses in on his face and this is the last thing we see as the scene fades out.