The camera pans around the empty arena as the stagehands are setting up the four rings that will be used for the Insanity Pay Per View a few shorts hours away. Master Chief Phillips is standing at the balcony in the nosebleed section, looking around the empty arena when his assistant Wilson approaches cautiously from behind.

Wilson: Sir, I-

Chief: You know, Wilson, it’s almost funny.

Wilson: What’s that, sir?

Chief: Everything down there looks so routine and so peaceful. You’d never guess that so much pain, chaos, agony, and bloodshed would be occurring in such a short time from now.

Wilson: I suppose not, sir, but they are setting up wrestling rings.

Chief: Well, yes…

Wilson: And there are four of them, specifically because the Main Event is called the DeathCube.

Chief: Alright, fair enough. Point taken.

Wilson: Sorry, sir.

Phillips turns away from the scene unfolding far below him and looks back at Wilson.

Chief: It’s alright, Wilson. Just me being… Contemplative I guess.

Wilson: Understandable, sir. I just wanted to let you know that those additions to the card you asked for have been made.

Chief: Good, good. I figured we should be sporting fellows and give Pyromania a chance to catch up to us on the Altered Reality Scoreboard. They’re at a three point deficit right now, but with two matches on Pyro’s half of Vertigo and one on their Blistering Inferno PPV that will count, there’s three points right there. So, to sweeten the pot, we have our match at Ragnarok between Phantom Lord and Hustle, and now we’ve added at Brooks and Spruance vs. Sixx and Golden match they’ve been clamoring for. That makes a total of 5 points up for grabs on these shows, and really makes it anyone’s game.

Wilson: Plus, adding that tag team match has one other additional benefit.

Chief: And that is?

Wilson: Hopefully it will get Brooks to stop calling.

Chief: One can dream, Wilson. One can dream.

Wilson: I also added that singles bout between Bobino and Blackwell like you asked.

Chief: Good, good. These two are consummate professionals, and they make a great team, but ever since we first teamed them up, they’ve lost their spark and drive. It’s time for them to get it back, and I can think of no better opponents for them to have than each other.

Wilson: So it looks like everything is progressing nicely then.

Master Chief Phillips turns to look back at the rings being constructed below him.

Chief: Seems so. There is so much slated to go on tonight, and so many things hanging in the balance. The only thing I know for sure is that after tonight, things really will never be the same again.

Master Chief is silent for a long moment, as Wilson fidgets awkwardly. Finally, he builds up the courage to ask a question.

Wilson: Sir, I hope I’m not being too forward, but… How’s Jenna?

Phillips hands grasp the railing in front of him so tightly that his knuckles go white. Wilson can see his jawline clench tightly and his face begins to redden before he responds.

Chief: She’s… I’m sorry, Wilson but I’d rather not talk about it right now.

Wilson: I understand, sir.

Chief: I know you do. Thank you. Now, what do you say we get to work, shall we? We’ve got a huge night ahead of us, and we’re going to be busy like never before.

Wilson: Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.

Chief: Excellent. I’ll meet you down in the office in a few minutes.

Wilson nods and walks back up the steps to the concourse. Master Chief stares out at the rings for a moment longer before finally releasing his grip on the railing. He stares a moment longer, his face contorting in rage.

Chief: Storme… I will…

Master Chief lets out a grunt of rage as he lashes out and punches the railing in front of him. He pulls back his hand and sees where he has split the knuckles open. Blood begins running down the back of his hand onto his wrist.

Chief: Tonight… For her…

The scene opens focusing on the imagine of a huge 'KISS' mural. The camera pans back slowly revealing an old, beaten up tour bus which belongs to Pyromania's rookie, Sixx King. The shot turns it's focus to the front of the bus where we pick up Golden as he makes his way down the steps and back into the car park were a taxi is waiting for him.

He pats Ted on the shoulder and shoots him a wink before hopping into the stationary car. Golden sticks his head out of the passenger window and shouts back toward Sixx's newly acquired bus driver.

Golden: Todd, remember, any slip ups and my man here has your job.

Ted: It's Ted. T-E-D. And I wo-

The car drives off before Ted can finish his sentence and the camera picks up the shot within the taxi where Golden is sitting in front along side his ever reliable Taxi Man.

Taxi Man: Where has the lager and lime gone son? It's been too long since you hopped in me old Andy McNab.

Golden: You're making that up. Andy McNab? Really? And you're right, it's been far too long. Could have done with a few words of wisdom from you before the last show.

Taxi Man: I seen. You had the DynoMight in all sorts of Michael Caine. I thought for sure he was a gonna'. Maybe next time, eh son?

Golden: Bigger and brighter things on the horizon Taxi Man, the WSHC will be there for me again, but captaining a winning side at Altered Reality? A opportunity like that might never come my way again.

Taxi Man: Ain't that the Babe Ruth.

The car slows down and pulls in in front of a small, local pub, and Golden jumps out.

Golden: You'll be back in a couple of hours?

Taxi Man: Are you after some gooseberry puddin' or just the pigs ear tonight?

Golden looks blankly back at his driver then shakes his head and laughs before turning to walk toward the bar. As he approaches the door he turns back with a grin and shouts.

Golden: Stop making things up.

The car pulls off and Golden makes his way into the a very sparsely populated pub. Behind the bar stands a hulk of a man, fully fitted without a pair of front teeth and an impressive monobrow. Two young locals, spindly teens - too young to be drinking but pints in hand - stagger around the dart board. Both corners are occupied, one by a small man suited in a clever little three piece, the other by an old woman who has seen better days. Sadly she seems aware of it as she sways in her seat, staring at the two empty bottles of vodka in front of her would suggest.The heads of the five occupants turn when Golden drags a high stool from a corner and places it strategically by the bar; giving him a clear view of the TV and a comfortable distance to enjoy the fire.

Bar Man: It looks like you have done that before my friend. How can I hel...wait. Are you one of those wrestlers? You are aren't you. You are Mr. Golden! I recognize you!

Golden: I'm off duty tonight. It's just plain old Oscar Reilly sitting in front of you.

The bar man frowns at Golden, clearly disappointed with the response. The two young men standing by the dart board walk over and begin to chime in.

Young Local One: Meeester Goldan. Ha Ha!

Golden: Correct.

Young Local Two: Ga-old-e-locks! We like the Altered State. Boo Goldan.

Golden: Big fan of Brooks and Sprucance? No surprise there then.

Bar Man: But you are Mr. Golden. In his best impression of Golden: I am captain. I will win you. Tonight I will not beaten.

Golden chuckles and shakes his head and speaks with a smile.

Golden: Would you have been happier if I'd have called you a quasimodo looking, mullet card carrying, plucked right from the 80's, cousin-marrying imbecile? Because you are.

Bar Man: HA-HA! That is the Mr. Golden from television. Let me pour you beer!

As the bar man turns around to grab a glass a small man rises from his seat in the corner and climbs the stool next to Golden.

Small Man: I'll have whatever he's having. And he's paying.

Before Golden has the chance to reply his new drinking partner turns around to introduce himself. His Irish accent gives him away almost instantly.

Small Man: The names Larry.

Golden: Nice to meet you Larry...now explain to me why I'm buying you a pint?

Larry: Because you're a fine man Oscar...or is it because I have something you might find a lot more interesting than a pint of beer?

Golden: I doubt you've anything that'll interest me Larry. Drink up, and I'll have the same again.

The camera pans in as Golden tilts back his head and gulps down a few mouthfuls of his beer when Larry jumps up on atop his stool. With his head still tilted and another mouthful drank, Golden's eyes widen. The room before him began to melt away in a sea of colour. The tables, the fire, even the people, all melted and swirled until finally the colour settled.

The picture widens to reveal both men standing in a grassy field at the foot of a rainbow. Golden drops his pints glass on the ground and his mouth is left ajar in shock.

Larry: Ah now Oscar, don't be wasting the good beer!

Still speechless Golden's mouth finally closes, but before he gets to question what's happening Larry begins to do a little Irish jig. As soon as Larry lifts his feet music begins to play. Golden's mouth opens once more.

Larry: I should have said me full name Oscar, it's Larry the Leprechaun.

Golden turns on his heels, throwing his head up in dismay, before turning back and pointing down at Larry.

Golden: Larry the Leprechaun!? Of course you're Larry the fucking Leprechaun! An-

He stops mid sentence and straightens up, putting his hands on his hips and begins to laugh.

Golden:Alright, I'm going to presume the bar man didn't take kindly to me calling him names earlier and I'm unconscious....sooooo let's get on with things shall we?

Larry the Leprechaun: That's the spirit! Now, follow me while I diddly-dee.

Larry sets off in the direction of the rainbow, in a jig-like fashion - traditional Irish music accompanying his every move - and Golden follows.

The men walk for a few minutes along the rainbow before Larry turns and stops. Motioning Golden closer.

Larry the Leprechaun: You hear that Oscar?

Golden: I can't hear anything...

Larry the Leprechaun: Exactly! Lesson number one - no more dwelling on "the now", bigger noises lie ahead.

Golden: I don't know if that made any sense, but OK....you haven't really told me what's going on here. I'm just sort of going with the flow but truth be told I'm a little underwhelmed. Sure it's funny when you dance and there's music, but after that...where's this going?

Larry furrows his eyebrows at Golden, clearly not happy with what he had to say.

Larry the Leprechaun: What's usually at the end of a rainbow?

Golden: A pot of gold?...This is all getting a little cringey. The Irish man, who happens to be called Golden, following a leprechaun to a pot of gold? I think I'm done here.

Larry wags his finger at Golden and with a smirk he begins to dance off toward the top of the rainbow. Golden grimaces slightly but then shrugs and walks after the little dancing man.

When he reaches the top, Golden see's that the rainbow becomes a corridor, lined with colourful doors.

Golden: So what's the story here? Pick a door and I might win some gold?

Larry the Leprechaun: I don't like your attitude young Reilly. No wonder no one likes you.

Golden raises a hand to object but shrugs and decides against it, then motions for Larry to carry on.

Larry the Leprechaun: The gold is at the end of the rainbow Oscar, but to get it you've got a few choices to make. If it were as simple as following the rainbow then everyone would be a millionaire. Some of these doors offer short cuts, others will make your quest for gold longer than you'd ever dreamed imaginable....and some will just help fill out your promos.

There is a rumble from behind one of the doors as Larry finishes his sentence. Golden walks over for closer inspection and sees that the door is signed 'Dream Realm', he turns to Larry and sticks out a thumb in the direction of the door.

Golden: Let me guess. Shortcut?

Larry the Leprechaun: Lesson number two, that which seems obvious often is not.

Golden: Is it necessary that your "Lessons" have to be in riddle form?

Larry the Leprechaun: I am a leprechaun, it's what we do.

Larry points to a large door opposite from where the two men are standing and jigs over toward it.

Larry: This'll bring you back to the bar where we met Oscar. Knock the drinking on the head tonight, go prepare for your match and be ready for another visit from me. We have some gold to find.

With that Larry opens the door and Golden is sucked in. The camera picks up Golden staggering through the pub door where Taxi Man is waiting in his car. A bewildered Golden slowly opens the car down and sits down beside his friend.

Taxi Man: Good night me old dinner plate?

Golden: Uh...it was...different. Have you ever had a night where something happened that seemed to suggest more interesting things might happen, but the thing that happened wasn't actually that interesting? That's just what just happened.

Taxi Man: You lost me after the second 'happen'. Back to the gates of Rome?

Golden: Nah, the hotel will do fine.

The scene fades with the car driving off and Golden looking out the window with a puzzled expression.

I have created many characters over my years, but not many have the heart that Big B. Brown has in him. I recall it being a tough chore when deciding what he would be like. I wanted to get every detail right. He did have his flaws, yet he embraced them like no other. This last year has not been too good to my treasure creation though. His inner demons have started to rise up more and more. The pain of defeat after having so much success has caused him to change. He is no longer the fun loving guy he used to be. In his place became a mean asshole who would do whatever it would take to win a match. The problem for him has been that he is still losing. Big B has begun to question whether or not what he is doing is right for him. I can tell you that it isn’t right. Fans all over the world loved the old Big B. Brown. It didn’t matter if he was fat and losing, or if he was Hardcore Champion. That is the Big B. Brown they all cheered for to win. It is time for Big B. Brown to face his darkest hour. At Ragnarok, he must walk inside the demonic DeathCube where many careers have been shortened. Before he walks into that giant ring, he must face a similar challenge on the home front. He must confront his past one more time to change the course of his future. I am the Creator and you will find out what happens today on The Brown Show.



The episode opens with Lord Bean and Big B. Brown coming through a white door. Big B is in his ring gear consisting of blue trunks, kneepads, and arm pads. Lord Bean has on his best black suit with a red tie. They have walked into a very long room. The room is white everywhere. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all painted white. One thing stands out in the distance and that is a black door at the end of the long hallway. Big B and Lord Bean are heading right for it.

Big B: I think a little color in this room wouldn’t hurt. From this distance, that black door looks rather scary. I mean I think some bad shit could be behind that door.

Lord Bean: Bad shit is what is exactly behind that door.

Big B: Great. What exactly does the Creator guy want me to do? I would like a hint or something.

Lord Bean:He doesn’t think you are ready for the DeathCube. He has prepared a similar challenge for you. You will be facing five people, but not like you will in the DeathCube. This will all be one on one. All these opponents have strong ties to you. You will be quite surprised when you get inside.

Big B: Sure. I feel like I’m about to face the Elite Four instead.

Lord Bean: It’s going to be pretty similar to that actually. You must beat your opponent to advance so that is a very accurate statement.

Big B: So I get to meet our Creator after I get past this thing?

Lord Bean: I believe that is an accurate assessment. I do not see why he would allow you to see him. You are not ready at all to be in the presence of our almighty Creator. He is too good for you. Only I should be allowed to see him. I am his chosen protector.

Big B: I’m sorry to come between you and your boyfriend. All I want is answers.

Lord Bean: I am your coach. I provide you with all the answers you need for the moment. I would also like to say that the Creator is not gay, but if he was I might consider going for it. I’m not gay or anything though.

Big B:I wouldn’t judge you if you were gay.

Awkward silence

Big B: So, that DeathCube…umm…what is the plan, coach?

Lord Bean: I have no plan for you. I do not think you have any chance of winning the thing. I even have money on you being the first one out. You don’t have the skill to survive this kind of match. Better wrestlers than you have walked into the DeathCube and their careers were never the same. I can only imagine what that will do to you. Even if you somehow pass the Creator’s test, I still do not see you coming out on top.

Big B: I’m going to prove you wrong. I have what it takes and I’m going to prove it by beating these five clowns behind this door. After that, I will go to the DeathCube and win the World Heavyweight Championship. I won’t be stopped.

Lord Bean: You have before. What makes the third time a charm? I haven’t seen any improvement  from you to suggest that you have what it takes to be champion. All I see is an angry, black man who wants to hurt people. In order to be champion, you need to want to kill our there. You have to be a ruthless son of a bitch to make it in the wrestling business and you still don’t have it yet. You will. I can promise that. First though, you must walk through this black door. In a room full of white, this black door is the most distinguishable feature in it. One day the darkness will overcome the light and this room will be all black. The same might be said for you.

Big B: Okay then. I’m going to walk past this door now if you don’t mind. It’s time for my destiny to be revealed.

Lord Bean: I wish you good luck. You will need it. I’m not sure if you have it though.

Big B: Whatever you say. Remind me to hire a new coach by the way. You suck.

Lord Bean: Pity. I thought I was getting excellent marks from the critics.

Big B: I suggest you leave before I leave an excellent mark on your head.

Lord Bean: Now now, we wouldn’t want that. I shall walk away. Enter the door. A new world awaits you.

Big B: Here goes nothing.

Big B walks through the black door. Inside the room is a bar. Pool tables fill the side of the room. Tables are in the middle and there is even a jukebox to the side. Big B walks past the tables and up to the bar counter. He sits on a barstool and waits for something to  happen. He looks at the drinks on the wall behind the counter and then behind him again. He looks back at the door he came through to see it is gone now.

Big B: This is weird. Maybe my first test is to get drunk. I have no other clue why in the hell I would be in a bar. I need a bartender. HELLO! BARTENDER!

?: I’m coming. Hold your fucking horses.

Our from the door behind the bar counter comes a man with a Santa hat on, it is Big B. Brown’s old hardcore trainer, Hardcore Jolly.

Jolly: Oh, it’s you.

Big B: Jolly? You are a bartender now?

Jolly: I figured I would be by the thing I love the most. Alcohol has been so good to me.

Big B: You are clearly drunk. I smell the alcohol on you.

Jolly: I’m the most intelligent drunk you’ve ever met. You know that by now. I taught you how to be a hardcore wrestler if I remember correctly. I might not be since I’m drunk.

Big B: You did. I had many beer bottles smashed over my head thanks to you.

Jolly: Fun times. How are things going for you now? Are you still kicking ass and taking names using the hardcore style?

Big B: No. That was long ago. I am more legit now.

Jolly: More legit? Never forget your hardcore roots. I’m sure your next match will need quite a lot of hardcore skill to survive.

Big B: I don’t need any more lessons from you, Jolly. My skills are all I need to win the DeathCube and become World Heavyweight Champion.

Jolly: The DeathCube? My goodness. You clearly need hardcore skills to compete in that.

Big B: I have hardcore skills. I was Hardcore Champion. I would even say I am more hardcore than you.

Jolly:That’s asinine. Nobody is more hardcore than I am.

Big B: You are an old man with a Santa hat on. You aren’t hardcore anymore. You have become a joke. I don’t need anymore lessons from you.

Jolly: Well, I’m about to teach you a lesson anyway. How about it? You and me in a barroom brawl. Right now.

Big B: I wouldn’t mind putting your old body through a few of these tables out here. I accept your challenge.

Jolly: I was hoping you would say that.

Jolly bashes a beer bottle over Big B’s head.



Jolly: Just like old times.

Big B:Thankfully, I have built up a tolerance for beer bottles to the head. Have you built up one for barstools to the head?

Big B swings his barstool at Jolly’s head smashing it into him sending him flying into the wall of alcohol causing many bottles to fall and break on top of Jolly.

Big B:I bet you like all that beer pouring on your head.

Jolly: The drunker I am, the better fighter I am.

Jolly jumps up on the bar counter and dives right into Big B. Brown causing them to tumble to the hard ground. Both men stagger to their feet.

Big B: You bastard. I can’t afford to be hurt before the DeathCube.

Jolly: I’m the best hardcore fighter the world has ever seen and I don’t care about your silly wrestling match.

Big B: I am more hardcore than some old man.

Big B rushes at Jolly and spinebusters him through a table.

Big B: How is that for hardcore?

Jolly gets up and gives Big B the middle finger.

Big B: I’m flattered.

Jolly: Fuck you.

Jolly throws another beer bottle at Big B, but Big B moves out of the way. Jolly rushes him and slams Big B into the jukebox.

Jolly: I think now seems like a good time for a little Dick Dale and the Del-tones.

Big B: Yeah. Surf music just screams hardcore.

Jolly: The hardest of the hardcore. Speaking of hardcore, I was watching this porn the other night.

Big B grabs Jolly’s head and slams it into the jukebox.

Big B: I bet you can hear all the hits on your head now.

Big B smashes Jolly’s head on the juke box a few more times before flinging him across the bar through a few more tables.

Big B: This is way more fun than I thought it would be. How about a game of pool, Jolly?

Big B walks over to Jolly’s body and grabs him by the arm dragging him over to the pool table.

Big B: I thought you were hardcore. All I see is a worthless drunk getting his ass kicked.

Jolly: Never underestimate a drunk. We are full of surprises.

Jolly quickly grabs a pool cue and swings it at Big B. Big B sees it coming and grabs it. He breaks the pool cue in two.

Big B: Too slow, old man. It’s been fun but I need to finish this already.

Big B smashes Jolly with both halves of the broken pool cue and Jolly crumbles to the floor.

Big B: All too easy. To think that I once took lessons from you. You are no longer a hardcore master. You are a pathetic drunk. I find your lifestyle to be sickening. All those years of thumbtacks and chairs, yet you have nothing to show for it. I am going to be World Heavyweight Champion. People will remember my name. Nobody will remember Santa’s drunk cousin. I’m out of here.

A door appears at the back of the bar. Big B sees this and walks over to the door. He opens the door halfway when Jolly throws the black 8 ball at Big B. Jolly is on the floor with blood coming from his head, but he still had the power to muster up throwing the ball at Big B.

Big B: You should have stayed down.

Jolly:Big B, you don’t get it. Being hardcore isn’t about being well known. It isn’t about winning matches. Hardcore is about never giving up. No matter how big the beating is, you always get up and are ready for more. It may not be the smartest thing in the world, but it proves how big of balls you have. I have big balls. Do you?

Jolly passes out from blood loss.

Big B: Crazy son of a bitch.

Big B takes one last look at Jolly and opens the door. He goes through and now he is in some sort of desert. The door disappears behind him. In front of Big B is a giant pyramid. Big B is now standing with a confused look on his place.

Big B: Where am I now? Fucking Egypt. The Creator sure has some style. There must be some reason for this. Maybe I have to go into the pyramid to find the answers or move on to the next challenge. I wonder what my challenge here is. Wait, I hear something in the distance.

An ATV comes out of nowhere and pulls up in front of Big B. Brown. On the vehicle is a cloaked figure.

Big B: Who is this guy?

The cloaked figure reveals himself to be none other than Nicolas Cage.

Big B: Oh God. Not him.

Cage: I should have known you would be out here. The biggest treasure ever thought of is possibly in that pyramid. Of course you would be here. I am the greatest treasure hunter the world has known and you will not stop me.

Big B:I don’t care about your stupid treasure. I never have. I just want to get out of here.

Cage: Trying to get me to let my guard down so you can get my treasure. You learned that trick from Brandon. He was a very savvy treasure hunter. If it’s a challenge you want, then you got it. First man to the treasure is the winner.

Big B:I am not competing with you for treasure. There is no challenge. Wait a second. Fuck. That’s the challenge this round. I have to beat you to the treasure. I hate my life.

Cage: Prepare to be embarrassed. Treasure hunting is my greatest skill. Only Brandon Brown can compete with me. You are his weaker cousin. I will reign supreme.

Big B: Every time Brandon put me through one of these stupid treasure hunts or some other wacky adventure, it ate me up inside. I knew that I should have been doing something important like training. It’s because of guys like you that my early career was ruined. I will take my revenge now and show you up at treasure hunting. I will beat you, Nic Cage. You will never bother me again after this. I will make sure of it.

Cage: Deal. This is Nic Cage’s last dance. The greatest treasure ever is on the line and the first man to it will be famous. All I can say is good luck.

Cage punches Big B and jumps on his ATV and takes off towards the pyramid.

Big B: Fuck you, Cage.

Big B runs after him on foot towards the pyramid.



Big B has entered the pyramid now. The place is lit up making it easy to see. Nicolas Cage is nowhere to be seen. Hieroglyphics appear all over the walls, but Big B has no clue what they mean.

Big B: Look at all this gibberish. Who came up with this?

Nicolas Cage appears out of a secret passageway.

Cage:I came up with this gibberish. I wrote the stuff in these pyramids a long time ago. It was many lives ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

Big B:What are you saying?

Cage: I am an immortal. Well, that is not entirely true. I can die, but I am quickly reborn right after I die. A pharaoh placed an accidental curse on me many years ago causing this to happen to me. I do not see It as a curse though. I love living.

Big B: So if you wrote the hieroglyphs on the wall, then isn’t this your treasure?

Cage:It’s the pharaoh’s treasure. He hid it from me long ago before he died. He did not want me to have the greatest treasure of all time. I never knew where to look for it in here too. That is until I found a hidden map lost long ago a few days back. It finally revealed to me where the treasure was hidden. It is my destiny to find this treasure. I can’t let you stop me.

Big B: I have to find this treasure before you. I don’t understand the Creator too much, but I know I need to beat you to the treasure or else I will not be able to move on.

Cage: You better move then.

Cage starts running and Big B quickly follows him.

Cage:The TREASURE is MINE!!!

Cage keeps running through different passageways making it hard for Big B to keep up.

Cage: GIVE UP, BROWN!!!!

Big B: COME BACK HERE!!!

Big B tackles Cage into some sort of elevator causing them it to fall hard to the bottom.

Cage: Get off of me. This is the elevator down to the chamber. The treasure should be down here.

The two men walk around this bottom chamber of the pyramid. The place is empty. No treasure is around at all.

Cage: I don’t understand. It should be here.

Big B: This is just like in that stupid movie you were in. No treasure. I’m sure you have something though in your pocket that will open a passage to the actual treasure.

Cage: No. I don’t have anything. THE TREASURE IS GONE!!! What did you do?

Big B: I did nothing.

Cage: I found you outside of here. How do I know you weren’t already in here? You could already have the treasure hidden outside. YOU FOOL!!!

Cage runs to attack Big B, but Brown picks Cage up and slams him to the ground. On impact, the bottom of the chamber begins to crumble. The two men fall through the floor landing in a new room. The light from the room above shines down showing treasures all over the room.

Cage: You found it. You found the treasure.

Big B: I’m glad it was here to break our fall.

Cage: You landed on the treasure first. That means you got here first. You won.

Big B: Good. That means I can move on. I hate doing this stupid stuff with you. It’s crazy.

Cage: Embrace the crazy. We live in a funny world. I have seen it for a long time. Crazy shit does down a lot. The craziest of people can be quite dangerous. Be dangerous, Big B. People should fear you. You have allowed yourself to get weak. A good adventure is good for the soul. Your cousin knows that. You should too. Be adventurous.

Big B: Be dangerous and adventurous.

Cage: Yes.

Big B: Okay. I guess. You can have your treasure. I’m out of here.

The door appears past the treasure of the chamber.

Cage: Continue this current adventure, Big B. More knowledge will be coming to you.

Big B looks at Cage and walks towards the door leaving him. Big B now enters a new area. He quickly slips as soon as he walks out the door.

Big B: Fuck. Why am I on ice?

Big B looks around to see a hockey rink. He stand ups and notices he is in the center of the rink.

Big B: Maybe my next challenge is to compete for the Stanley Cup.

?: You aren’t ready for that yet. 

Big B turns around to see his former coach, Gordon Bombay, staring at him.

Big B: Not you again.

Bombay: Yep, it’s me again. I still haven’t given up on you yet.

Big B: I don’t need a coach like you.

Bombay: You need a coach like that Bean guy?

Big B: No, I don’t need a coach period. I am my own man from now on.

Bombay: How about some friendly advice then from a friend?

Big B: Where is my friend?

Bombay: I’m one of the few friends you have. No matter how many times you have hurt me, I will always be your friend.

Big B: You are as crazy as Nicolas Cage.

Bombay: How about we play a game then?

Big B:I guess Coach Gordon Bombay is the challenge this time. It won’t be much of a challenge then.

Bombay: We won’t be wrestling or anything. We will be playing my game. Hockey.

Big B: I don’t play hockey.

Bombay: You are going to if you want to advance. I got some skates for you.

Bombay throws some skates over to Big B.

Bombay: Put them on.

Big B takes some time to put them on.

Bombay:Okay, here is a hockey stick for you.

Bombay throws Big B the hockey stick.

Big B: Now what?

Bombay: We play some hockey.

Big B: Oh yeah?

Bombay: Three bar. First one to hit both posts and crossbar wins. Got to take it out past the blue line.

Big B: Yeah yeah. I saw the second Mighty Ducks movie.

Bombay: No cheap shots at my knee.

Big B:Of course not. I know I can beat you.

Bombay: Don’t lose that confidence.



Big B and Gordon Bombay face off. Bombay drops the puck and they are off. Big B has the puck and shows off some hockey skill. He uses his speed to fly by Bombay. He smacks the puck with his stick and hits the left post.

Big B: Too slow, old man.

Bombay: I’m just getting started.

Bombay takes the puck and tries to slide by Brown. Big B runs over Bombay and takes the puck.

Big B: It wasn’t a cheap shot.

Bombay is on the ground while Big B holds the puck on his stick. Big B flings the puck hitting the right post. Big B now only has to hit the crossbar to win.

Bombay: It’s not over yet. I’m Gordon Bombay.

Gordon Bombay takes the puck again. He charges at Big B. Big B is waiting to run him over. Right when Brown goes for it, Bombay jukes out of the way and nails the crossbar with the puck.

Bombay: I should be in the hall of fame.

Big B: Don’t mock me.

Big B takes the puck and runs Bombay right over.

Big B: Time to end this.

Big B goes to shoot the puck at the crossbar, but Bombay smacks Big B’s stick with his stick at the last second causing the puck to go in the net. Big B runs over to get the puck. Bombay is right behind him though and steals it from him. Bombay heads back behind the blue line. Big B sets himself up ready to play some defense. Bombay runs around fakes a shot causing Big B to move and fall to the ground. Bombay uses this easy opportunity to smack the left goalpost with the puck. Both men have one spot left to hit.

Big B:I underestimated you, Bombay.

Bombay:There is a reason that I am a legend.

Big B tries a fancy move on Bombay, but the coach has none of that and takes the puck right away from Brown.

Bombay: This is it. Time to finish this.

Gordon Bombay uses his puck work to confuse Big B. This causes Big B to slip back and fall down. Bombay sees this change to take a shot at the right post. He shoots but Big B jumps right into the puck at the last second to stop it.

Bombay:Impressive.

Big B takes the puck and is now face to face with Bombay. Bombay makes Big B make the first move and he flips Brown over his head. Big B expected this though and was able to use his stick to move the puck forward while he went over Bombay’s head. Brown quickly recovers with Bombay now behind him. He takes the puck and shoots at the crossbar which smacks off of it. Big B has won the challenge.

Bombay: The was a great move on your part.

Big B:Thanks, Coach. You surprised me out there. I didn’t think you still had it in you. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. It’s too late to call you my coach though. I have made up my mind. I am a man on a mission and that mission requires me to be alone.

Bombay: I can accept that. I want to shake your hand and call you a friend.

Big B: Deal.

Big B. Brown shakes hands with Gordon Bombay. The door appears and Big B decides to go to it.

Bombay: One last thing.

Big B turns at the door and looks back at Bombay.

Bombay: I know you have that DeathCube coming up.

Big B: I do.

Bombay:I have seen how dangerous that match can be from clips. Be careful out there. It doesn’t matter if you win or lose. Have fun out there, Big B. You lost some of that fun you used to have back in the day. Losing isn’t important as long as you are having fun. Let that be a lesson to you. Winning is great like you just did, but I learned a lot here from my loss. I learned that you are still a good guy and I will always have your back. Don’t be afraid to lose. I would love to see you win that World Championship, but not at the expense of your career. Don’t do anything stupid.

Big B:I won’t, Coach.

Bombay: Good luck.

Big B: Thank you. Time for me to leave.

Bombay: Goodbye, Big B.

Big B walks through the door and now lands inside a wrestling ring. Big B looks around the ring and sees nothing. He looks at the titantron.

Big B: I think I already know who the challenge is going to be here.

“Kickstart My Heart” starts to play and Brandon Brown’s name appears on the titantron as clips from his old matches play as well. Brandon appears at the top of the ramp and starts his walk toward the ring. The two Browns do not take their eyes off of each other as Brandon walks up the stairs and through the ropes. The two men stand face to face with each other.

Brandon: You were expecting me.

Big B: I knew it was going to be you as soon as I saw the ring.

Brandon: Hard to do The Brown Show without me. How about we become partners again and get the show back to its roots?

Big B: I’m not ready for that yet. We must fight. There is no way around it. I have wanted a match with you for years and now it is time. We have a ring. Let’s do this.

Brandon: I have to warn you. This beating will be worse than anything you will experience in the DeathCube. Morpheus ain’t got shit on me.

Big B: We’ll see about that. I’ve faced Morpheus and he is a great champion and competitor. I respect him.

Brandon: You will learn to respect me too. I used to love you like a brother. I took you on adventures as bonding experiences. We had plenty of fun. You may have acted annoyed, but you secretly enjoyed it. It is time to teach you a lesson.

Big B: Fighting time.



The Browns stare at each other one more time before they start to trade punches with each other. Big B punches Brandon back into the corner. He irish whips him across the ring into the turnbuckle. He runs at Brandon in the corner but Brandon sticks his foot up and smacks Big B right in the face causing him to back away.

Big B: Not bad for someone who is retired.

Brandon:I am just getting into my prime.

Brandon runs up to Big B and picks him up by his legs and slams him down. Brandon jumps on Big B’s body and lands some punches on his face. Big B powers Brandon off of him and both men get to their feet.

Big B: You always were a tricky little bastard.

Brandon: We all can’t be giant monsters. Sometimes the little guys are the ones who wins. You may have ten inches on me, but I do not fear you.

Big B: To think that I’m not even the biggest guy in the DeathCube. So many giants these days.

Brandon: Krimson Mask and Azreal may be huge, but they are not unstoppable. You most certainly aren’t unstoppable.

Big B: I will be.

Big B clotheslines Brandon to the ground. Brandon bounces back up and runs at Big B. He runs right into a powerslam though.

Big B: Nice try. I believe you are a little rusty.

Big B picks Brandon up. Brandon pushes him back and superkicks him. Big B falls to the ground out cold.

Brandon: Never underestimate me.

Brandon goes for the pin and goes to count for himself.

Brandon: 1!….. 2!……

Big B powers Brandon off his body and gets on his feet.

Big B: I’m not done yet.

The two trade more punches and both men both catch each other with a real good blow knocking them both back. Brandon uses this chance to go for a hurricarana. Big B happens to catch him in the air though and slams him down for the Big B. Brown Bomb.

Big B: It’s over.

He goes for the pin and starts to count.

Big B: 1!……2!!…..

Brandon kicks out at the last second.

Big B: NOOO!

Brandon staggers to his feet while Big B gets to his.

Big B: I will finish you.

Big B runs at Brandon, but Brandon sticks up his foot for a superkick. Big B catches it and manages to pick Brandon up and throw him over the top rope. Brandon lands awkwardly on his leg.

Brandon: OWW FUCK!!! MY LEG!!!

Big B slides outside the ring and notices that Brandon’s leg is broken.

Brandon: I give up.

Big B: I can’t let that happen yet. I’m sorry. I must finish you.

Big B picks Brandon up and throws him in the ring. He grabs him by the waist and picks him up for another Big B. Brown Bomb. He hits it and goes for the pin.

Big B: 1. 2. 3. It’s over. I have won. Bring on the next door.

Big B waits for a few minutes, yet no new door appears.

Big B: Where is the door?

Brandon has recovered and dragged himself into a corner while sitting on the ground in pain.

Brandon: Are you ready for that final challenge yet?

Big B: I am ready. I beat you.

Brandon:Yeah. You did beat me. You are lucky that my leg got broken, but you beat me.

Big B:A win is a win.

Brandon: Was it a fun win?

Big B: What do you mean?

Brandon: Remember what Bombay told you about having fun.

Big B: I do.

Brandon: Was this a fun victory for you?

Big B: I guess not. It was more of a relief. I guess I wouldn’t count it as a real win then.

Brandon: I knew the old Big B. Brown was still around somewhere. You are my family, Big B. I love my family and I love you. Let’s move forward as a family. We need to make The Brown Show into the greatest show ever. Are you down for that?

Big B: You know what? I think I am. I’ve learned a lot today. I learned that my family and friends are what are going to take me to the top. Not some silly Lord Bean or even the Creator. It is guys like you and Gordon Bombay. Hell, Hardcore Jolly is even a good guy even if I beat the crap out of him. I respect all of you. I love you all.

“Dr. Feelgood” starts to play as Big B highlights start to play on the titantron.

Big B: I didn’t ask for my music to be played, but I guess I can listen to Motley for a bit.

Big B takes a closer look at the titantron.

Big B: Why is it showing my old tron from when I was fat?

Brandon: You will find out.

Big B looked over at Brandon and back toward the titantron when all of a sudden he sees a figure standing at the top of the ramp.

Big B: It can’t be.

The fat Big B. Brown was standing at the top of the ramp. The 500 Pound Wrecking Machine had returned.

Big B: How is this possible?

Brandon: The Creator can do great things. Hell, he brought me here. The dick probably won’t heal my leg though.

The fat Big B walks into the ring and stares at Big B. Brown.



Fat B: Did you miss me?

Big B: Tell me why you are here.

Fat B:Isn’t it obvious? There is only one challenge left.

Big B: It’s you.

Fat B: Bingo.

Big B: Are we supposed to fight?

Fat B: Only if you want to.

Big B: I don’t want to fight you. You are me.

Fat B: Are you finally going to accept me as part of you? For a long time you have tried to forget me. I was to be forgotten while this new buff Big B. Brown was in my place. I want to be apart of your life again. I want us to be whole.

Big B: How in the world do we do that? I need my past. I need to know my old self again. I have been corrupted too much lately. I have to let you back in.

Fat B: Then embrace me.

Big B approaches the fat Big B and he hugs him. The two Big B. Browns then become one as the fat one is absorbed into Big B. Brown. Big B looks over at Brandon.

Big B: I am me again. I can feel it. All the evil that had crept into me is gone now. I am the good Big B. Brown once again. I feel the best I ever had. I can take on the world.

Brandon: That’s the Big B. Brown that I want in my family. You always had it in you. You just needed to find it again.

?: That’s right, Brandon. He did have it in him.

Big B and Brandon look over to see a man standing over on the other side of the ring. They are both in shock.

Big B: It’s him.

Brandon: The Creator.

Creator: Yes, I am the Creator. I created everyone in your universe. I have been watching you two for a very long time. I tested you both very hard and I know you would come back together once again. I even sent that Lord Bean after you too as a test. I can’t stand him but I like to use him. He is so evil that I knew he would do his job. You rejected evil in the end, Big B. I love it. Good beats evil always in the end.

Big B:You are right. It really does. What do I do now?

Creator: You have learned a lot in these five challenges. It is now time for you to head to Norway. It is time for you to walk into that DeathCube.

Big B: Am I ready for it?

Creator: You are ready. I have made sure of that. I want you to go into that DeathCube and give it your all.

Big B: I will. I will even make sure to have some fun in there.

Creator: Coach Bombay has taught you well.

Big B: Where do we go after the DeathCube?

Creator: I will bring you back to me and tell you what I want you to do next. Don’t worry about that now. Stay focused on the DeathCube.

Big B: I will.

Creator: Good. Now help your cousin and walk through that door.

A door appears in the ring.

Big B: Goodbye, Creator.

Brandon: Very nice meeting you. I am glad you brought this all together. Next time warn me before zapping me out of the bathroom. I knew you were real the whole time. I can't believe I finally completed my goal of finding you. It's a relief.

Creator: I will warn you the next time I zap you away. I also knew you would find me eventually. You are quite persistent. Goodbye, my creations. Have safe travels.

Big B and Brandon walk through the door and they are now in the Brown house.

Big B: It is good to be back.

Brandon: It really is.

Big B: Time for me to focus on that DeathCube now.

Brandon:Finish the episode for us.

Big B: There have only been two DeathCube matches in the history of LPW before the one I am about to walk into. Eight of the twelve people to enter the DeathCube are pretty much gone from LPW. The match shortened their careers. Krimson Mask is going to be the first man to ever step into the DeathCube a second time. The man clearly messed with his career the first time. He might have won that first match, but he was never the same Krimson Mask as he was before that match. He took some time off for a reason and I believe it was to heal. I still don’t think he is back to his old self yet. I will not underestimate him though. I have never been in the ring with him before, and I am honored to get to meet him for the first time in a match that he won the first of.

I go way back with Nigel Vanderbilt. He’s the best partner I have ever had. I consider him a highly underrated wrestler. I still can’t believe it took this long for him to get a shot at the LPW World Heavyweight Championship. Nigel has beaten me in the ring. I know how good he is. I know he is going to bring it inside the DeathCube. Nobody wants to be a World Champion more than he does. I remember him talking about it all the time when we were a team. I look forward to fighting for the World Heavyweight Championship with him. I wish him the best.

As for The Awakened, my track record against them has not been good lately. I have suffered losses to Morpheus and Ultramarcus. Azreal is a great competitor as well. I used to be so obsessed with getting revenge on these guys. I don’t need revenge anymore. I don’t hate them. I respect the hell out of them. They do their job pretty damn well. I would love to beat them. I would love to end Morpheus’ reign as World Heavyweight Champion. I will do it the right way though. No cheating will be done by me. I will win this thing straight up. I have failed at my last two chances at winning the LPW World Heavyweight Championship. I am hoping the third time will be the charm. The only way I will know will be by walking into that DeathCube and giving it my all. Ragnarok, here I come.

Big B walks over to help Brandon and his leg. Meanwhile, Lord Bean had been watching from outside the house through the window.

Lord Bean: How dare the Creator hate me. I have done so much for them. You enter that DeathCube, Big B. After you have finished that match, you will be too hurt to fight me. I will destroy you and the Creator. NOBODY CROSSES LORD BEAN NEWBORN!!!

Will Big B. Brown survive the DeathCube? What evil plans does Lord Bean have in store? What will the Creator have to say to the Browns? Find out next time on the season finale of The Brown Show.

In the throne room of the Dream Realm, Azreal and Morpheus sit silently, contemplating the checkerboard in front of them. The pieces remain in their starting positions, with neither man choosing to make the first move. Finally, Azreal leans back in his chair and looks across the board at Morpheus.

Azreal: I know how much you love checkers, but it's just not my game.

Morpheus smiles and opens his arms, gesturing for Azreal to continue.

Morpheus: I am so not playing Candyland tonight.

Azreal: Relax man, my game is something a little bit more stereotypical for men like us.

Reaching out, Azreal pushed a corner of the board, which spins faster and faster, blurring into itself before Azreal catches it. The board, once decorated with checker pieces is now covered in elaborate mahogany chess pieces.

Morpheus: I haven't played chess in quite some time.

Azreal: What can I say, I love chess.

Morpheus: Hmmm.... After all, it's an important night. I'll take white.

Azreal: Symbolism?

Morpheus: Only if you want to look for it.

Azreal: Then lets play. By the way, I feel I should tell you, the last person to beat me in a chess game? Bobby Fischer.

Leaning forward over the board, Morpheus moves the first piece. -clink-

Azreal: Did you call me here for a reason?

Morpheus: Do I need one? Maybe I just wanted to play a game.

-clink-

Azreal: I know you better than that, man. And I'm taking your pawn.

-clink-

Morpheus: Go ahead, I've got seven more. Yes, I called you here for a reason, two actually.

Azreal: The DeathCube.

-clink-

Morpheus: That's one of them. You won the right to pick the order, yet you put yourself in first. Why?

-clink-

Azreal: Are you really surprised?

-clink-

Morpheus: That knight is mine now.

-clink-

Azreal: Good move. But are you really surprised? I'm a fighter.

-clink-

Morpheus: I know, and I'm not surprised. Just confused.

-clink-

As they play, Oneiro stalks over to them, clawing at Azreal's leg and mewling. Smiling, he reaches down and places her on his shoulder.

-clink-

Azreal: I missed you, little one.

Morpheus: She missed you. I swear you could hear her pathetic mewling from a continent away.

Azreal: She's a loud one.

-clink- -clink-

Morpheus: Just like her Dad. Now you still didn't answer my question. Why do you want in first?

Azreal: Because the title is the secondary objective. Winning isn't my first goal.

-clink-

Morpheus: Isn't it?

-clink-

Azreal: Not even close. Defend your queen.

-clink-

Morpheus: Yeah I see it. Then what is?

Azreal: I'll warn you, it's kind of stupid.

-clink-

Morpheus: Imagine my surprise. Now spill it.

-clink-

Azreal: I'm a strong man, Morpheus. Physically, mentally, I've survived things that would make Marines wet their pants in terror. Things that would make the bravest of men turn to sniveling cowards. I've never been in the DeathCube, but I've seen it. I know that it is a place of pain, of suffering, of agony. It is hell for those too weak to conquer it.

Morpheus: You want to conquer it.

-clink- Azreal moves his queen, boxing Morpheus into his corner.

Azreal: More than anything. Check. By choosing to enter last, I could win and walk out with the championship, telling the world that I survived Hell on Earth.

-clink-

Morpheus: Oh you could?

Azreal: Yes. Or I could go in first, I can bring the world down around me and when I win, I'll walk out saying that I didn't just survive, I CONQUERED!

As he finished the sentence, Azreal slams his fist down on the table, sending board and pieces flying. He looks around sheepishly for a moment before closing his eyes, concentrating. The pieces begin to float, slowly levitating and replacing themselves on the board, in the same positions as before. Smiling, Azreal returns to the game.

-clink-

Azreal: Because there are more important things then winning, more important that reaching the top of the mountain. Sometimes it's the climb that makes you legendary.

Morpheus: You're sound sure that you're going to win.

Azreal: I am sure. I'm the best I've ever been and then some. God himself couldn't stop me now.

Morpheus: It's not God that you're facing. It sounds like you think that I won't even be a challenge. That's not too terribly smart.

Azreal: The friend and stablemate in me is trying to get me to back away peacefully, but you deserve better than that. Are you a deserving champion? You bet. Are you a tough competitor, worthy of the respect and fear of the roster? Without a doubt. You are most definitely a challenge.

Morpheus: Get to the point.

Azreal: If that's what you want, fine. I'm going to win anyway.

Morpheus pauses, his queen halfway through a move. He carefully replaces the piece as he glares at Azreal, fire in his eyes.

Morpheus: You're an insolent little shit. You think you can beat the man that taught you?

Azreal: No, Tiny would still kick my ass. I can beat you though.

Morpheus: You're going to end up regretting this conversation.

Azreal: Possibly.

Morpheus: I thought we were going into this as brothers. Awakened against the rest, and now you're pulling out an attitude?

Azreal: I won't turn on you, Morph. I won't turn on you or Marcus but when it comes down to us, which it will, I'm going to win.

Morpheus: We'll see about that.

Azreal: Yes we will, but Awakened bringing home the title is the most important thing. That's why you're entering last.

Morpheus: Wait, what?

Azreal: I'm going in first, doing as much damage as humanly possible, then you come in last, we eliminate the rest of the competition.

Morpheus: And then?

Azreal: We fight as men do.

Morpheus: Is that any different from how other things fight?

Azreal: I dunno, more honorable I guess. We're good friends, so when we're the last guys standing, we fight. But we do it the right way, respect and honor and all that bullshit.

Morpheus: It took us like three sentences to get from threatening each other to working out our battle plan.

Azreal: It's what happens when the author tries to add tension between good friends.

-RUUUUUMMMMBBBBLLLLLLEEEEEEE-

Morpheus: Dammit, no breaking the Fourth Wall! My promo hasn't even started yet!

Azreal: Sorry, sorry. There's plenty left for you to destroy.

Morpheus: It'll have to do.

Azreal: Good. I want you to know something, before we get locked in that cage.

Morpheus: What's that?

Azreal: We might be friends, stablemates, even brothers, but I need to take the next step.

Morpheus: I know.

Azreal: Even at your expense.

Morpheus: Do what you feel you must, but know that I will be doing the same.

Azreal: Good. Now let us finish the game.

The two men plays silently for a few minutes, pieces gathering on the sides of the board, until Azreal stands up. He moves one last piece before walking away and opening a Dream portal.

Azreal: The next three moves make stalemate. Game over. Sleep well, friend.

Azreal steps through and closes the portal as Morpheus stares at the game board, confused. After several moments Morpheus smiles sadly and tips his king, knocking it over.

Morpheus: Well played, kid.

Hooded Man: He bested you? A strange day in the Dream Realm when the King loses a game.

Morpheus: I didn't lose. We tied.

Hooded Man: For you that's a loss.

Morpheus: Indeed... But do you see now brother? Do you see why he cannot be told?

Hooded Man: I see only your excuses, and his growing power.

Morpheus: He is a greedy, arrogant, angry boy who cannot be trusted with such power.

Hooded Man: He has the power already, brother. All you would do is help him control it.

Morpheus: It is too dangerous.

Hooded Man: Dangerous for who? Are you worried about him? Or your Throne?

Morpheus tries to respond, but the Hooded Man has already vanished.

Morpheus: He was so close....


After all this time, I'm still treated as a joke. A path of destruction paved with defeated superstars, victory after victory, and a few championships to call my own, yet the respect I so desperately crave is still just out of reach.

Azreal sits, his eyes closed as the overwhelming emptiness of the Void surrounds him, dark and silent.

I am called the weak link, a dead weight holding Awakened down from even greater success. My accomplishments are seemingly diminished by my stablemates being even more successful than I, but not for long. I have been given the rarest opportunity, a chance to make the perfect moment.

Azreal's hands tighten on his knees, the knuckles white.

The DeathCube is more than just a match. It's for more than just a title. It's for respect and legitimacy, for all the things that are more than physical. When I emerge victorious, I'll have won more than just a championship, I'll have defeated men who are considered my betters, I'll have survived what should have bested me. I will no longer be thought of as second-best to my own teammates. I will establish my dominance, my power, my own legacy in this one moment. I must make it come to pass.

You're adorable...

Eyes snapping open, Azreal looks around for the source of the new voice.

Worrying about matches and championships because you think your own demons are dealt with.

Trying to speak to the voice, Azreal finds his own voice silenced. His mouth moves, but no sounds are made.

You should have known better. You couldn't even trap me, but Morpheus did. It's taken me months to weaken that cage, months of stewing in my hatred for you.

A flash of light moves slowly towards him through the Void, taunting him.

But now I'm loose, free inside your mind again. You shouldn't worry about championships, victories or respect. You have much more important battles to fight.

The light moves closer, and fear washes over Azreal's face as he sees the figure within.

After all, demons never just leave.

Invisible bonds tighten over Azreal, and as he struggles to move, Ba'al smiles evilly.

You should have known that I'd be back, after all, Justus, Tiny, even Morpheus warned you. But you were too busy. Too busy to do what was necessary. And now that I'm out, oh, we are going to have so much fun.

A column of flame shoots from Ba'al's hand, encasing Azreal, burning at his skin and clothing. The pain unbearable, his mouth contorts in a silent scream as the fire sears the flesh from his bones.

Welcome back to Hell.


There's an old legend, from the darkest corner of the Wild West, about a lawman who was stuck caring for a lawless town. Old feuds, hatred, and bloodshed, loyalty tested and friendships strained by the promise of great wealth. The center of the tale? An Indian outlaw turned decent, who went by the name Alex Stone-Fist, famed for his great strength. Rumors flew wherever the young man went, whispers of a broken gun, and the all-consuming wrath of a man wronged.


The dawn light filtered through the wooden shutters, falling on the sleeping eyes of Alex. Roused from his slumber, Alex rose and quickly went through the morning's chores. Strapping on a pair of knives, Alex pulls from his bag a pearl-handled revolver, stained by the months spent riding through the wilderness. Somberly, Alex slides the revolver into it's holster on his hip and heads out into the early morning light. He heads directly to the Sheriff's office, politely greeting the few townspeople out and about this early in the day, and knocks on the door. The Sheriff opened the door and ushered Alex into a chair before sitting across an old wooden desk. While the sheriff hunted for a document, Alex took the opportunity to study him. The Sheriff came up to about Alex's shoulder, and though he was a large man, his belt had obviously tightened of late. A hat lay haphazardly on his head and his beard hung long and tangled, this was obviously a man more accustomed to the saddle than an office. Named Matthew Ranger, the sheriff had a mixed reputation. Though he tried his hardest to clean up the town, some still called him corrupt or manipulative. It didn't matter to Alex, but he'd received an urgent message asking for help, and so he came. Alex snapped back to the moment as the sheriff finally found the document he was looking for, laying it on the desk. Alex looked over it to find that it was an arrest warrant for a man named Marcus Dodds.

Sheriff: Ha! Found it. Now then, I know you're wondering why I asked for you.

Alex: I rode one hundred miles in one day since I was told that it was urgent, and that I would be very well rewarded. You might say that I've very curious.

Sheriff: Good. I had a visit from one of the Dodds' Gang night before last, and he started singin' the sweetest songs about a cache of gold.

Alex: The Dodd's Gang? Marcus...

Sheriff: That's the one. I know you used to run with them.

Alex: Used to. Marcus and I had a falling out over a score, and I left.

Sheriff: Is that when your gun...

Alex: I see people's gums have been flapping.

Sheriff: There's not much else to do around here. Is it true?

Alex: What do you think?

Sheriff: I think no law-man goes out without his gun.

Alex: Then why are you asking?

Sheriff: Can't fault a man for wonderin'.

Alex: I can when there's business to attend to.

Sheriff: You Cherokee boys don't stand much on chatter, do you?

Alex: Apache, and no.

Sheriff: Then I'll forgoe the pleasure. We're going to go out and nab Marcus Dodds, then we're gonna bring him back and make him squeal.

Alex: Why?

Sheriff: His boys have a cache of gold, which means they stole it. I want to know where it is.

Alex: Very well, where is he?

Sheriff: The Dodds' Gang has a camp about ten miles north of here.

Alex: Then let's ride.

The two men move quickly out to the stables and saddle their mounts before jumping into the saddle and wheeling out of town. Moving at a decent speed, the men ride in silence for almost an hour before the Sheriff holds up his hand. Alex pulls up next to him.

Sheriff: The camp is just around the bend. Dismount, and keep your gun in your holster, we're here to talk.

Alex nods in assent and they dismount, tying their horses to a tree and walking up to the campsite, hands outstretched. A sentry sounds the alarm and almost immediately about twenty men appear from the various building, weapons trained on the intruders. No one makes a move to shoot, obviously waiting for a signal, when a man emerges from the largest of the huts, smiling.

Sheriff: Dodds.

Marcus: Sheriff, who's your new.... oh.

Alex: It's me, Marcus.

Marcus: Sheriff, why are you riding with an outlaw?

Alex: I'm a marshal now, Marcus. I switched sides.

Marcus: Good to know that that's an option. Why are you here?

Sheriff: We need to talk, Dodds.

Marcus: Then speak, my friends mean you no harm.

Sheriff: We need to talk somewhere a lot more private than this Dodds. Don't make me arrest you.

At this, one of the onlookers cocks his rifle.

Man: Not while I'm ali-

His declaration cut short by a gurgle of blood as a knife appears, lodged in his neck. He drops the gun and tries to speak, but only more gurgles come out as he falls over, dead. Marcus winces and a dozen guns suddenly find themselves cocked and aimed at Alex, whose hand is now resting on his other knife.

Marcus: I should have you killed for that.

Alex: You know what happens if you give that order. I've still got one more throw, and I don't miss.

Marcus: I know. Why don't you and the sheriff come inside, before you kill any more of my boys.

The bandits part to let them pass, Alex only stopping to remove his knife from the dead man's throat. Marcus calls over his shoulder as he heads inside.

Marcus: Make sure you bury him far from the camp.

As soon as the three are out of sight of the rest of the camp, the Sheriff turns and gives Marcus a hug.

Sheriff: How've you been, Marcus?

Marcus: Ranger, why did you bring a short-tempered Apache into my camp?

Sheriff: We need to talk to you about gold.

Marcus: Well that's something I like to talk about, what are we discussing?

Sheriff: One of your boys sang me a little song about a cache of gold you guys have. I'm figuring it's stolen, and I want it back.

Marcus: You should listen more closely to the song before you come into my camp, Sheriff. We don't have the gold. We're looking for it, and we aren't the only ones.

Sheriff: What do you mean?

Marcus: Your town is less than twenty miles from an abandoned gold mine. What do you think I mean?

Sheriff: There's gold still in that mountain?

Marcus: Unfortunately, no. But there are rumors, rumors of golden that the miners hid away before the Indians raided the mine.

Alex: You've been searching the mine, have you found anything that makes you think it's real?

Marcus: Bits and pieces, small trinkets, but nothing compared to the treasure hidden within.

Sheriff: You said you aren't the only ones. Explain.

Marcus: We've been interrupted several times, I can name half a dozen people out hunting for this gold.

Sheriff: We have to find it.

Alex: But if the gold was hidden by dead men, then you can't confiscate it. It's not stolen.

Sheriff: I'm a poor man, Alex. I'm not going to confiscate the gold, I'm going to claim it. I need that money.

Marcus: Good luck, Sheriff. My men have been combing the mine for weeks.

Sheriff: Who else is looking?

Marcus: Balik, one of those Redskins has been poking around. He's a dangerous man, no lie.

Alex: Apache?

Marcus: Cherokee.

Alex: Shit. Cherokee have no value for human life, especially when gold is involved.

Sheriff: Believe me, we know. Who else?

Marcus: A nigger named Ben, I think he's a freed slave, but he's desperate for it.

Sheriff: Desperate men are dangerous...

Marcus: Indeed. There's also some businessman from the East, he's looking for a little bit more lining in his pockets.

Alex: And then, of course, there's you and yours.

Marcus: But of course.

Sheriff: And now us.

Alex: Guess who is going to find it first?

Marcus: The three of us.

Sheriff: What?

Marcus: Think about it, Ranger. All three of us are looking for this gold, we can either sabotage each other or work together.

Alex: What happens when we find it?

Marcus: We split it, 25-25-50.

Sheriff: You get the 50?

Alex: Heh.

Marcus: Of course. I've got an entire bandit camp to pay, you guys don't need much money for your lifestyles.

Sheriff: I don’t know....

Marcus: Work with me and you've got over 20 times as good a chance of finding it. I think taking half is worth that bonus.

Alex: Agreed.

Sheriff: Fine.

Marcus: Now get out of here before my men get suspicious. You remember the old mine enterance?

Sheriff: Of course, I've had to roust outlaws from there a couple of times.

Marcus: Ride there, my men will let you in. We don't have much time, they'll catch up soon.

Alex: Then we should hurry.

Marcus: Godspeed gentlemen.

As Alex and the Sheriff leave the building, Alex pulls out his clean knife, flipping it in the air as they pass by the rest of the outlaws, who shoot Alex dirty looks. One starts to pull a gun, but his comrade grabs his arm, keeping the weapon firmly in it's holster. Alex and the Sheriff make their way to their horses and ride away. As the horses thunder down the dirt road, the Sheriff turns in his saddle to look at Alex.

Sheriff: Why'd you stab that guy?

Alex: He was going to shoot you, I wasn't going to let that happen.

Sheriff: I got that, but why did you stab him? You've got a gun.

Alex: A gun that I don't plan on using.

Sheriff: Aha! So the rumors are true!

Alex: Depends. Which ones did you hear?

Sheriff: That you had a partner who shot you in the back, and you're waiting, carrying that gun around just to use it on the guy that shot you!

Alex: Not quite. The gun was a hand-me-down, from the first true warrior I ever met. I've carried it for almost 34 years now, but a few years back I took a tumble during a cavalry raid on my village and landed on it. I took it to a smith, who told me that it's as likely to kill me as it is to shoot straight.

Sheriff: Why didn't you get rid of it?

Alex: It's a part of me, this gun is an extension of my body and soul, you can't just throw that away.

Sheriff: So you carry it. Why? Why not get new guns and leave the old one home?

Alex: Because the time will come when the gods decide to judge me. It is on that day, and that day only, where I put my life in their hands and pull the trigger.

The Sheriff goes to ask another question, but Alex spurs his horse, pulling too far ahead for conversation. In his haste, he didn't notice a man following them, staying just out of sight as they ride all the way to the mine.  As they begin to dismount, five men ride from the opposite direction, pulling up just short of the Sheriff. The lead man dismounts and offers a handshake to the Sheriff.

Man: Hey there Sheriff! Fancy meeting you here. The name's William K. Wallace the 3rd.

Alex: Shove it, Billy. We know why you're here.

William: Oh you do?

Alex: You want the gold.

William: Well, obviously. But that is not my purpose in talking to the Sheriff.

Alex: Then what is?

William: If you would have allowed me to speak, Redskin, you would already know.

Alex: Yes, but then I would have to listen to you more. Keep it short and sweet, straight-leg.

William: Sheriff Ranger, I need you to clear this mine! I attempted to search it with my boys, but I was turned away by low-life ruffians. I demand to be allowed entrance!

Alex bursts out laughing as the Sheriff responds.

Sheriff: Listen here, sonny, I have it on good intelligence that there are over thirty outlaws in that mine, with more on the way. How many guns do you have?

William: Five.

Alex: Four. You couldn't the Mississippi River from the deck of a ship, even with those fancy shooters you've got.

Sheriff: Can it Alex. So you five, plus us, that's seven. Even if I trusted you guys, that's four to one at best. I don't fancy those odds.

William: Well then why are you here, if not to roust these louts?

Sheriff: To look for gold of course. Now leave.

William: I'll take my leave then, but I promise you, you'll regret this, Sheriff.

Alex: Somehow I doubt that.

William hopped into his saddle and wheeled around, riding off, as Alex and the Sheriff reach the entrance to the mine. Knocking on the door, the Sheriff waits until a large black man opens the door.

Man: Marcus told me you'd be comin'. The name is Big Benjamin, I hear you're gold-huntin'.

Sheriff: That we are. Where do we start?

Benjamin: Wherever you want, there's lots of mine to cover.

Sheriff: Fair enough, Alex, let's start hunting.


Several hours later, the Sheriff, Alex and Marcus are wandering together through the mines, arguing over the best places to look. Following closely behind then is Marcus' new second, Big Benjamin, who had been refusing to leave their side for the last few hours. The four men reach a fork in the mine and split up, with Marcus and Benjamin taking the left path, and Alex and the Sheriff taking the right one. They head down the path, chatting quietly before Alex stops short at a dip in the wall.

Alex: Wait.

Sheriff: What is it?

Alex walks up to the dip and runs his hands along the wall; his fingers quickly finding a hold and he pulls with all his might, causing the portion of the wall to shake violently.

Alex: This rock isn't part of the wall. It was placed here.

The Sheriff steps up next to Alex and they start pulling, but the rock won't budge.

Alex: Go get Marcus and his wall of meat, they can help us pull this.

Sheriff: Alright, wait here.

The Sheriff runs down the mine as Alex continues shifting the wall. Before too long, the Sheriff and Marcus come back, but Benjamin is nowhere to be found.

Alex: Where'd the meat shield go?

Marcus: I wish I knew, he ran off as soon as Sheriff said you found it.

Alex: Well, fuck 'em. Help me move this thing.

The three men all pull at the stone as it slowly shifts out of the way, leaving a gap just big enough for a man to step through. Marcus pushes the Sheriff aside and runs through, while the others wait until they hear his shouts of joy before charging in after him. Inside they see several dozen crates, with Marcus standing over one opened one, his face shining. Inside the crate is over a hundred gold bricks, and the men celebrate their great find.

Sheriff: YEHAW!

Alex: That's enough for a city to retire on.

Marcus: I'M RICH! I'M GONNA BUY TEXAS!

Alex: Now we need to start getting these boxes out of here. Help me, Sheriff.

As Alex and the Sheriff reach for the boxes, they hear the ominous sound a a revolver cocking. Hands raised, they turn around to see Marcus pointing guns at each of them.

Sheriff: Marcus, what the hell?

Marcus: Sorry Sheriff, but the gold is all for me and my boys. You'll be buried in h-

Marcus is cut off by yet another gun cocking, this time from behind the boxes. Emerging from his shelter comes a large Indian man, his gun trained on Marcus, who turns one on him in return.

Marcus: Where did you come from, timber nigger?

Man: I am Balik.

Marcus: Shit. How did you get in here?

Balik: I've been following the Sheriff and the Indian for three suns. Now that you have found the gold, I need hide no longer.

Alex: Yeah, but how did you get into this little cave without us seeing you?

Balik: You were distracted by the thought of great riches, and the revolver that was trained on you.

Alex: Fair point.

Balik: Now be silent. Men will die here tonight.

: I'm afraid you will.

Alex: How does everyone keep finding this place?

The voice from the entrance steps through, revealing William and Benjamin, whose guns are trained on Balik and Marcus. William pulls out a wad of bills with his free hand and passes them to Benjamin, who pockets them.

William: Now boys, I know I told you you'd regret-

William is cut off by a gurgling sound, as his blood pools around the knife now sticking from his throat. Alex, still standing in throwing position, relaxes before spitting on the man now falling to the ground.

Alex: And I said I wouldn't, shithead.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the Sheriff pulls his guns as well.

Marcus: Come on, Alex. Pull that broken piece of shit and join the fight.

Alex: No thanks. I've got no need to join this Mexican standoff.

The men around the room shift to get clear shots, and a gun ends up trained on every man, but no one wants to shoot first.

Alex: Now, we all want the gold..

Benjamin: I don't. I want the Sheriff.

Sheriff: Why? What'd I do?

Benjamin: I escaped from my owner fifteen years ago, and it was you who came and hunted me down.

Alex: Talk about a last-minute revelation, but we have to calm down. No one wants to take the first-

The sound of a gunshot cuts off the last words and suddenly the room is full of smoke and lead. The screams of dying men echo as the blood pools on the floor, but just as quickly, it ends. Alex and the Sheriff struggle to their feet, the last two left alive. The Sheriff turns to Alex with a bitter smile.

Sheriff: At least it's over now.

The Sheriff pockets his empty guns, but looks up to find Alex's gun aimed at him.

Alex: Not quite.

Sheriff: You aren't fooling anyone, Alex. I know you won't use that thing.

Alex: That's an awful lot of gold, Sheriff. I need the money.

Sheriff: It'll kill you as likely as me!

Alex: Then let today be the day that the gods judge me. Goodbye Sheriff.

Alex's finger tightens on the trigger as the screen fades to black.

Leo wasted no time in exiting the dorm after giving the girl the proper protections.

"Fuck this," he weezed as I chased after him. "I'm not dealing with this bullshit again."

"Wait up, gods damn it," I yell after him. "We need to talk about this."

"Nothing to fucking talk about," he shouts without looking back at me. "That thing nearly killed me when I was eight. Then again when I was 19. I'm not giving it another fucking chance, dude."

Once I caught up to him, I grabbed him bu his shirt and shoved him against the exterior wall of the dorm, getting right into his face.

"You fucking coward," I growled. "You'd just let your best friend face this thing alone than so much as give him a gods damned hint? When did you become so selfish?"

He stared at me for a moment, right in the eyes. His gaze fell from fear into shame as I watched.

"You don't get it," he whispered, his voice shaking considerably. "That thing is almost as powerful as the King of Hell."

"Then what would it want with a sorceror like you?"

"My birthright."

"Explain," I said, raising an eyebrow and letting him go.

"My parents told me of a prophecy regarding my birth. I'd have the potential to enslave, consume, or destroy any demonic entity, no matter how powerful. It wants me so it can take that power for itself. It wants to be King."

"Shit. Demons are some ambitious motherfuckers."

"No shit."

"But why's the bastard in Austin of all places. It didn't seem to be after you."

"It didn't know how to find me. I took precautions to make sure I can't be tracked by any. . . unnatural means.

"But now, it knows I'm in the city, at least. It's not gonna go after anymore of those super-sluts or those tight ass religious chicks. It's coming for me."

The fear on his face said enough. You can imagine his reaction when my lips stretched into a grin.

"I hate when you smile like that. Last time I almost got my dick bitten off by a werewolf chick mid change."

"For the last time, she smelled human!"

"Tell that to my dick!"

". . . No."

"So, I'm guessing you have a plan."

"Right."

". . . I'm being used as fucking bait, aren't I?"

"Right again," I answered, grinning.

"Shit," he sighed. "If I die because of you, I'll come back and kick your ass poltergeist style."

*          *          *

The hotel phone on the dresser next to Damien's bed begins to ring obnoxiously, pulling him from his slumber. He reaches for it groggily, taking three tries to finally grasp it. He pushes the speaker to his ear, eyes still closed.

"What," he mumbles, trying to sound annoyed but to tired to pull it off.

"Hey, dude," comes Kevin's voice. "It's seven in the evening. You said you wanted me to wake you up for your date with Lisa."

"Yeah, yeah," Damien groans. "I'm getting up."

"Alright. Seeya."

Damien hangs the phone up and sits up on the edge of the bed. He yawns and stretches, trying to work the fatigue from his muscles and bones. Suddenly, he senses movement behind him in the bed. He jumps up, fangs bared and a hand blurring toward the pendant hanging from his neck. When he sees the petite blonde form curled up in the sheets, his expression changes from surprise to annoyance.

"Mab," he says, "what the fuck?"

"Hello to you, too, sexy," she sighs, stretching out, allowing the blankets upon her to fall away and reveal her pale, nude form.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, turning away. "You can not be here."

"Why not," she asks innocently.

"Because I fucking said so! Get out!"

Mab slowly gets off of the bed and approaches Damien. Ahe wraps an arm around his abdomen and pushes her cold flesh against his own.

"It is traditional in our circles to share a bed with political allies of the opposite gender, Damien," she whispers. "It is how we. . . grow closer."

Damien can feel something slithering into his head, trying to convince him to see things differently, and failing horribly. The feeling retreating quickly as Mab gasps in pain and falls back onto the bed.

"Stay out of my head," Damien growls, turning to face the Fae queen. "Next time, I might let you in. You'd run screaming."

Mab's eyes roam down to Damien's pendant, seeing the gem glow red.

"Such power," she whispers, and looks back up to his eyes. "Where does it come from?"

Before Damien can answer, a knock sounds from the door.

"You need to go," he whisper shouts at Mab.

"Why?"

"If my fucking girlfriend finds you in here, it'll fuck up what little bit of happiness I've gained in a long time. And if that happens, you can kiss my ass and this little alliance goodbye."

"Fine," she groans, pouting.

Without another word, Queen Mab disappears before Damien's eyes. He sighs in relief, grabs a pair of discarded blue jeans from the floor beside the bed and puts them on quickly. Then, he walks to the door, reaching it just as another knock sounds. He opens it to find Mikhail standing there, wearing a long white oilcloth duster, no doubt concealing a number of weapons.

"Who was in there with you," he inquires bluntly.

"No one," Damien responds with a shrug.

"Don't lie to me. I'm a vampire, just like you. I heard two voices in there. As your bodyguard, I need to know these things."

"You wouldn't believe me if i told you."

"Try me."

Damien sighs and motions for Mikhail to enter the room. They each take a seat at a small table across the room from the bed and he tells his bodyguard his dealings with the fairy queens, and Mab's apparent obsession with him. Mikhail nods along, allowing all of the information to sink in.

"Well," he says a moment after Damien finishes, "it would seem that you are fucked."

"Gee, that hadn't occured to me," Damien replies sotto voce.

"Mab is known to pursue males insistently until. . . well, until either they die or someone else catches her attention."

"Sometimes," Damien sighs, "being such a sexy bastard can be a real drag."

Mikhail rolls his eyes.

"Your mother should have let me decapitate you. Things would have been so much simpler."

"On another note," Damien adds, "something's come up. Something big."

"And that is?"

Damien shakes his head.

"Can't go into detail on it at the moment. But it's important. And dangerous."

"Take sword," says Mikhail, rising to leave, "cut off head. So much bloody simpler."

After Mikhail leaves, Damien goes through the daily motions; shave, shower, get dressed, brush teeth. All the boring things one does before going out.

It's already getting dark in Oslo, and few people walk the streets this night. Damien steps out into the cool night air ready for a little fun.

"Never met a girl that likes burgers and pool as much as me," he mumbles thoughtfully. "This chick is awesome."

He turns into an alley, hoping to shorten his journey. He takes a quick sniff out of habit, finding something strange in the air. Once deep in the alley, a group of eight men exit a doorway and surround him. Damien looks them all over cautiously. They look mostly normal, accept for their eyes, all pitch black.

Low-level demons, he thinks. Can't take human form on their own. Can't just cut 'em up.

"Vampire," says one directly in front of him. "We come for Kusanagi. Give it to us, or die."

"Looks like we've got a problem here," says Damien, smirking. "I don't have the sword on me, as you can see."

"Liar. We can see its power hanging around your neck."

"Ah," Damien blurts. "Fuck didn't realize you could see that. But in any case, fuck you."

The demons begin to close in on Damien as he begins to reach for the camouflaged sword. Suddenly, one of the demons grunts in pain and doubles over as a new player enters the fold, taking his place behind Damien, a six foot staff in hand.

"For once you bastards aren't after me. I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or insulted."

Damien turns to find LPW Tag Team Champion Azreal standing behind him.

"Fancy meetin' you here," he drawls. "At least the odds are bit more even now."

Damien grabs hold of the pendant and tears it from his neck. The gem in the center glows a deep, bright red. In the blink of an eye, Damien holds Kusanagi in all its glory.

"Nice trick," says Azreal. "Lets do this."

Each man charges toward the demons, Azreal attacking any of them that are wreckless enough to get close. He smashes one in the head with a hard side-swing of his staff, and immediately turns and blasts another in the gut with the end. His face contorts into a vicious grin as he swings Ultraviolence with rabid abandon.

Damien's attacks are more restrained, trying to cause as little damage as possible to the hosts. He slaps one in the face with the flat side of the blade, and spins wth the strike, hitting another in the chest with the gem in the hilt, expelling the demon within the host in the form of black smoke, which disappears moments later. 

"Well," he mumbles as the formerly possessed man falls to the ground, "that's new."

The other demons around Damien back away, startled by this new discovery. Not wasting a chance, Damien charges one and plants the gem hard into its forehead, forcing it out of the host. The other two look at each other for a moment before bolting away and out of the alley. Damien shakes his head in disapproval and turns to see how Azreal is doing with the others.

One lays against a wall, the host's nose flattened, missing multiple teeth and one arm bent at an awkward angle. Another is hanging halfway inside a large trash can, blood dripping from his decimated mouth, his jaw severely out of place. A third lays with his head crushed in a door. The fourth lies unmoving on the ground, taking an immense amount of punishment from Azreal.

"Go back to hell, fucker," he yells, punctuating each word with a blow to the head with his staff.

Damien approaches cautiously, Kusanagi held firmly in hand.

"Having trouble with this one," he asks.

Azreal turns to Damien, confused.

"Usually, by now the demon would have retreated. This one is being stubborn."

"I bear a message," it coughs, "for the vampire."

"What," sighs Damien. "I'm kinda in a hurry here."

"Your end is near, demon-killer. You will burn soon enough."

"That wasn't even original," Damien mumbles and drives the gem into the demon's chest, sending it back to Hell.

"Another cool trick," says Azreal. "Where can I get one of those?"

"You can't. It's one of a kind."

"Well, damn."

The sword reverts back into it pendant form and Damien replaces it around his neck. Damien looks around and surveys the carnage left by Azreal.

"Looks like the only survivor is the one with the dislocated jaw," he observes.

"How can you tell?"

"I'm a vampire. I can hear his heartbeat. Did you have to be so brutal?"

"I don't have a fancy sword to help me out."

"Touché. Anyway, thanks for the assist."

"Don't mention it. I wasn't playing the good samaritan. I just fucking despise demons."

"Understandable," offers Damien.

"Yeah. That and you're in one of the matches at Altered Reality. If they'd fucked you up too badly, we'd be in worse shape than we are already.

"By the way, Captain or not, don't fuck up at A.R."

Damien raises an eyebrow.

"You threatening me?"

Blink.

"No. Why?"

"Sounded like a threat."

"Oh. It wasn't. Let me rephrase: good luck."

"Thanks. Good luck in the Death Cube."

"Thank you."

Damien pulls out his phone to check the time: 8:26.

"Oh, shit! I'm gonna be late!"

Damien turns and jets out of the alley, leaving Azreal behind.

"Very nice," Azreal grumbles. "Leave me here with the corpses and the unconscious dudes. Ass."

*          *          *

The pool hall is packed, at least sixty tables and all of them in use tonight. Damien walks in and a smile crosses his face.

"Smells like home," he sighs.

He looks around and sees Lisa at a table off to the right, bent over lining up a shot. Damien hurries over, sneaking the last few yards, then playfully smacks her on the rear. She straightens up quickly, holding her cue parallel to her body.

"If I turn around," she says, "and find anyone but a sexy six foot ten inch wrestler with long hair and blue eyes, this pool cue is going up your ass."

She turns around and looks up at Damien thoughtfully.

"You got lucky, big boy."

Damien leans down and kisses her gently. She puts an arm around his neck, pulling herself into it. After a moment, she pulls away.

"You're late," she chides.

"I know," he says. "Couple of dicks tried to mug me on my way here."

"Oh, geez! Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Luckily, a guy from work was passing by. He helped me kick their asses."

"Good," she says, relieved. "Well, rack 'em up, big boy. Let's see if you play pool as good as you look."

Damien smiles and collects all of the balls in the rack. Lisa leans over the table to line up her break shot.

"So, you've got a pretty important match at Ragnarok," she inquires.

"Pair of matches," he corrects, removing the rack from the balls. "A tournament to choose the Captain of Insanity Team II at Altered Reality."

"Wow," says Lisa, taking her shot. "That's a big chance for you. Who are the other three?"

Damien watches for a moment as the balls scatter about the table. The ten falls into a pocket.

"Ozzy Crerar, Daientine and Pope Fred. Looks like you take stripes."

"Looks like," she says, lining up another shot. "Sounds like a challenge."

She shoots, taking the eleven at an angle. It bounces off the borders of the table a few times only to just barely miss a pocket.

"I like challenges," says Damien, smirking. "I wouldn't be a wrestler otherwise."

Damien studies the table for a moment. Avenged Sevenfold's "Bat Country begins to blare through the speakers overhead.

"Perfect," he mumbles, and lines up his shot.

He shoots hard, sending the cue ball flying toward the two. They collide and the two sinks straight into a pocket, and Damien immediately moves on. He targets the three and the four, sitting just next to each other. He fires, taking the three at an angle. The three hits the four and both balls veer off, the three sinking into a middle pocket, followed by the four in a corner seconds later. Lisa stares agape at the table as Damien blurs about, sinking ball after ball into the pockets until only the eight is left.

"I may be in over my head here," she laughs. "How'd you get so good at pool?"

"My best buddy's dad managed a pool hall," he says, looking for a good angle for his last shot. "We used to go up and play for hours. We'd watch the tournaments when they'd have them.

"Eight ball, middle pocket."

He shoots from the corner, the cue ball collides with the eight and sends it smashing into the border. The eight angles and sinks into the intended pocket.

"Looks like I win," he says, laying his cue on the table.

"That it does," Lisa responds. "I suppose I should give you a prize."

Damien raises an eyebrow.

"What kinda prize?"

Lisa grabs his hand and smiles.

"The kind that I can only give in private."

"Well, then," Damien says, smirking, "back to my hotel room then."

*          *          *

Ozzy Crerar.

Daientine.

Pope Fred.

We find ourselves in something of a unique situation. The four of us must compete to determine which of us will captain our team at Altered Reality. Bit of a strange thing. Fighting amongst ourselves just for the honor of leading the charge.

What a load of shit.

Don't get me wrong. I have much respect for Master Chief's leadership abilities, but I can't say I agree with this decision. Basically, we beat on each other at Ragnorok, thus softening ourselves up for our opponents at A.R. just so one of us can say, "I'm in charge."

It doesn't really matter.

That being said, I'll add this.

I do not plan on losing. In fact, I see this as the end of my recent losing streak. You're all great competitors.

But I'm better.

And don't expect me to pull my punches.

Phantom Lord is seen sitting inside of a hotel room staring straight ahead into a mirror. He sits motionless as he stares at himself. The video fades in and out to simulate the passage of time as Phantom sits motionless during all of it. The silence is suddenly broken by another familiar voice to Phantom

Voice: Well I would like to congratulate you. You finally found those set of balls you had been hiding.

Phantom: Leave me alone.

Voice: And what have you sit and stare at yourself?

Phantom: I let him get to me and I broke a vow I made to myself. I said I wouldn’t go back to being that way and I ended mutilating him.

Voice: Oh my God you are such a pussy.

The lights are turned on and we see it’s Phantom from the Future

Phantom: I thought you said all I had to do was get a shot at the television title and it would set me back on the right path. Get the shot and win. Well I got the shot, but I fucking blew it.

P.F.T.F: Oh contraire. You did not blow it. I just had to come back to tell you how proud we all are. That match with Steve Storme is now studied by legions of fans. It’s known as the night Phantom went mad.

Phantom: So in the future I’m a crazy person. That’s just great. I’ll never win the world title at this rate.

P.F.T.F.: You never do win the world title.

Phantom: I thought you weren’t supposed to tell people about their future for fear it fucks things up.

P.F.T.F.: What the space/time continuum? Yeah knowing that piece of knowledge won’t change things. Look I saw myself in the future as a broken down wreck because I chose the wrong path in my career. You wanted to be the respected veteran who can help build the stars of tomorrow.

Phantom: What’s wrong with that?

P.F.T.F: Nothing. But have you seen what it’s gotten you? A losing career record and main eventing on the damn C show. THE C SHOW. Unless they planned to change the name of the show to Phantom Night Heat, this was a career path I just wasn’t going to live with. I want to enjoy my golden years and for that to happen I had to get you out of this line of morality bullshit you got us into.

Phantom: So this is how I’m happy in my golden years. I have to being a raging lunatic in the ring. Do you understand how bad this was? No one in the history of the LPW has ever gotten disqualified for excessive violence. Because of me there is now a threshold for disqualifications.

P.F.T.F.: You know how many times Bruiser Brody got disqualified? What about Terry Funk?

Phantom: All right so lets assume I stay on this path. What’s in it for me? What’s in it for me to go out there and beat the fuck out of people just for fun?

P.F.T.F.: Did you really just ask me that? You really are far worse off then I could have ever imagined.

Phantom from the future sits down on the bed next to Phantom and he puts his arm around him and they both look at the mirror. Phantom from the future’s face is wrinkled with many scars on his forehead. With his free hand he grabs Phantom by the chin and points his face forward

P.F.T.F.: In case you are wondering, no you don’t have to worry about the Timecop paradox of the same matter occupying the same space. Now take a good damn look at yourself and tell me what you see.

After a moment Phantom stands up and walks to the mirror and stares into his eye

Phantom: I’ll tell you what I see. I see someone who is sick and tired of being pushed over.

P.F.T.F.: Yeah…

Phantom: I see someone who is tired of being looked at as an old dinosaur.

P.F.T.F.: That’s it…

Phantom: I SEE SOMEONE WHO USED TO RUN THIS COMPANY WITH A GOD DAMN IRON FUCKING FIST. PEOPLE FEARED ME. WHEN I WAS WALKING THEY MOVED OUT OF THE WAY.

Phantom from the future stands up and joins Phantom at the mirror

P.F.T.F: You liked what you did to Steve Storme, didn’t you?

Phantom: DAMN RIGHT I DID. I liked the feeling of tearing his flesh from his skin. I was overcome with joy when I took that spike and jabbed it over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND FUCKING OVER INTO HIS FUCKING HEAD.

P.F.T.F: Well you have to continue this path of destruction. You got Hustle up next. They want it to be an old school strong style match.

Phantom: I don’t even know what that is.

P.F.T.F.: You know what it is? When the bell rings you attack him like a pitbull and tear him apart limb from fucking limb. You don’t stop till your hand is raised in victory and you hold what’s left of his bloody carcass up as a statement to the whole locker room that you aren’t going to be looked past anymore. You are Phantom Lord. You earned that Hall Of Fame ring with your blood and sweat. My blood is your blood and I want a throne of skulls to sit on when I look down from the mountains at my kingdom below. CAN YOU GET ME THOSE SKULLS?

Phantom: YES I CAN. I WILL START WITH HUSTLE AND TAKE HIS HEAD AS THE FIRST OF MANY TROPHY’S TO COME.

P.F.T.F.: That’s the spirit. You have no idea how happy I am to here you say that. It was a dark time when you went nice. Phantom Lord as a nice guy just doesn’t work. Phantom Lord a stark raving lunatic is a much better fit.

Phantom: I WILL TAKE HUSTLE THROUGH A WORLD OF PAIN AND WHEN I AM DONE THEY WILL DUMP HIS ROTTING CORPSE INTO THE PUTRID WATERS OF THE RIVER GANGES.

P.F.T.F.: Now you got it. I want you to walk down to the ring in Oslo and unleash hell. ARE YOU WITH ME?

Phantom: I AM.

P.F.T.F.: I SAID ARE YOU WITH ME?

Phantom: I AM.

P.F.T.F.: Then go get him.

Phantom Lord bolts out of his hotel room and the echoes of him screaming as he runs down the hall away a heard. Phantom from the future meanwhile sits on the bed and grabs a menu from room service and he picks up the phone

P.F.T.F.: Yeah can I get an order of fettuccini and a bottle of white wine. Yes just put it on the room’s tab. Thank you.

Phantom from the future hangs up the phone and he grabs the remote. Down on the street we see present day Phantom Lord screaming HUSTLE IS GOING TO DIE as locals and tourists flee in horror as the shot fades

Marcus stands in a state of shock, looking out at the remains of Toronto, a now fractured city.  A city at war, and a city in turmoil.  He watches as police desperately try to chase down violent protestors, and rioters.  He looks out and realizes, "I did this.  This is my fault."

And he is right.  Marcus and his accomplice Dorian Gray created the plan.  Dorian would become the Mayor, while acting under Marcus's orders.  Together they created a threat, the Toronto Star Syndicate, led by the mysterious anarchist, The Toronto Star, who would make every attempt to assassinate the mayoral candidate.  What the citizens of Toronto wouldn't know was that Marcus was truly the man under the mask, and would come close, but ultimately fail to kill Dorian at every turn.  Predictably, Dorian became a hero overnight.  But then things got out of hand.

Lazarus, one of the only, and possibly the oldest immortal left on the planet returned to Toronto, and took control of the Toronto Star Syndicate, usurping the position from The Toronto Star himself, calling himself "The Immortal"

Along the way the city acquired the help of Cross/Fire, a violence intervention group, with experience defusing tense and often violent situations.  The group was lead by Jean Blitzer, daughter of the leader of the Hells Angels, Gregory Blitzer, a man Marcus, as The Toronto Star had managed to infuriate, but who Marcus himself had managed to sway into helping the city at the last moment, when Lazarus's forces stormed the convention centre. 

With Lazarus's forces severely depleted from the battle, Lazarus revealed that he had captured the Mayor, and worse, that Jean Blitzers life was in danger. 

City at War: Finale


Jean Blitzers eyes crept open with a flutter.  The first thing she noticed was the pounding in her head, as if someone was gripping her forehead tightly.  She looked around frantically, trying desperately to figure out where she was.  Panic set in, until she noticed the familiar frame of the window.  She knew exactly where she was, Toronto General Hospital.  She had been here before, although never as a patient.  She had been here so many times during her time at Cross/Fire that she could recognize the building from it's windows alone.  As she glanced out the window, she tried desperately to recall how she had ended up here. 

She remembered volunteering for the job of infiltrating the G-20 protests to keep the demonstrations calm, and free from violence…but after that there was nothing.   Could she have failed?  Looking out the window from her bed it was pretty clear that she had.  She saw smoke blowing past her window in thick waves as sirens wailed away close-by. 

Gingerly, she slid her body to a seated position, and placed one foot on the cold tile floor.  She gradually put more weight on it, and determining that her legs would be ok to walk, she moved herself across the room, towards the window.  She glanced out, looking into the thick billowing smoke, pluming from below the street, and saw through the thick tray fog, dozens of tiny flashing red and blue lights.  The lights of emergency vehicles.  Her eyes widened with realization as the smoke grew thicker, and the sirens wailed louder.

The fire wasn't outside, it was coming from inside.

She rushed to the door, reached for the knob, but pulled her hand back as she touched her fingers against it.  The metal was burning hot, and the tips of her fingers had already begun to blister.  Jean covered her hands with the edge of her thick hospital gown, and again attempted to open the door, never touching it for longer than she needed to.  As the door creaked open, spikes of flame shot through the top before disappearing.  Jean forced herself out into the hallway.

People were running in all directions, desperately fleeing the building.  The sound of sirens was gone, replaced with the sound of screams.  They're wasting their breath, Jean thought to herself, as she lowered her body into a crouched run, and began to move as quickly as her legs could take her.  The fire blazed around her, as she frantically took in the  madness around her.  The walls danced with orange and red flames, as smoke rolled overhead, darkening the already bleak hallway.  Jean looked overhead, and found what she had been looking for.  The red EXIT sign, almost disappeared into the fiery walls. Jean reached for the door, careful again to cover her hands and pushed for her life. 



Marcus stood astonished in front of the convention centre.  Lazarus had made his message crystal clear.  "Do you see that smoke rising from the east side of the city? Toronto General Hospital is just a pile of cinders right now.  I have the mayor.  Your move."

He watched as miles away Toronto General Hospital continued to burn.  There would be no way he could make it in time.  The streets were all riddled with police and protestors, traffic was a nightmare…the whole city was a nightmare.

Unless…

Marcus: MORPHEUS!  I NEED A PORTAL!

his calls went unanswered

Marcus: MORPHEUS!!!

He stood screaming in the street for his leader. 

Marcus: MORPHEUS!!!  I NEED YOU!!!

There was no answer.



Jean pushed her way down the stairs, using the wall to hold her body up, grasping tightly onto the railing.  As she reached the first plateau of the stairwell, she began to feel faint.  Her knees began to buckle, and her left leg gave way as she collapsed on a heap against the wall.  Her head felt like it was being put through a meat grinder, and the smoke was doing nothing to help her situation.  The air was thick, and it was so hard to breathe…

"Can't quit" She thought to herself.  "So close now…too close to quit".  She pulled herself up using the railing, and trekked on, keeping her head down.  As she reached the bottom floor, she pressed the back of her hand tentatively against the knob.  It burned, but she had no other option.  She opened the door, and was met with a blast of flame, knocking her back against the staircase.  As the room began to spin, she stood back up dizzily, looking at the path of fire in front of her.  She had long ago given up on wiping the sweat away from her face, mixed with dirt, ash and soot, it only blurred her vision.  She couldn't afford the luxury of comfort, she needed to survive. Jean pushed her way through the fiery hallway, the sprinklers above doing little to quell the roaring blaze. 

She pushed her way through.  There was nobody around anymore.  Could she be going the wrong way?  Had they all been rescued?  Where were all the people?  As she made her way past the blackened walls, towards the entrance the sound of sirens grew louder.  She limped past the front desk, which was now charred to a crisp, and towards the front doors.  As she pushed her way through the doors, the pressure in her head tightened worse than ever, she cried out in pain.  Her eyes were filled with a wholly new type of light, different than the light of the flame that she had adapted herself to walk through.

It was sunlight

EMT: We've got one more! 

Jean breathed in, deep shallow breathes.  She had escaped, she was finally safe.  The pain in her head began to swell again, and with a swoon, she passed out, as EMT's police officers, and fire-fighters rushed to her aid.



Stanley Heller stood in awe of his work.  Toronto General Hospital was his own personal bonfire.  Stanley was a very happy man.  A lot of people had told him that he was wrong to love his fires.  His mother, and his doctors.  But they didn't see it the way that he did.  This…if they could see this, they would surely see it the way he did.  This was nothing short of art.  In fact, Stanley mused to himself, as he stood transfixed, this was his masterpiece.

Nearby Kent Lewis stood watching Stanley.  They didn't have to worry about being caught, or even noticed, not while the two of them were dressed in their paramedic uniforms.  Lazarus had really thought of everything, and Operation Funeral Pyre had gone off without a hitch.  Kent watched Stanley, wondering what made that sick mind tick.  Stanley thought he was some kind of artist.  He was an artist alright, Kent thought to himself.  The Picasso of Pyromaniacs.  That's when the doors to the hospital opened, letting out one last refugee from the blaze.  Kent couldn't believe his eyes.  Jean Blitzer, one of Lazarus's "people of importance" in this little game he was playing, was right in front of him. 

She looked worse, part of her face had been badly burned, and was covered in soot and sweat, but he recognized her all the same. 

Kent: Stanley, we've gotta move.  It looks like we're going to have a passenger on the way back. 

Stanley didn't move.  He stood watching, with a smile on his face as smoke cascaded out from the windows of the massive structure. 

Kent: Stanley, one of the bosses "People of importance" is right in front of us, we need to make sure she goes for a ride with us and not somebody else. 

There was no response from Stanley.  Kent decided to take matters into his own hands, and grabbed a gurney from the back of their ambulance.  He looked over to a nearby paramedic.

Kent: Little help?

The medic rushed over to help Kent.

Kent: Thanks, let's pick up that girl that just came out.

Medic: She just passed out.

Kent: Hurry!

The two of them rushed over to the crowd of people around her.

Medic: Get back, give her room.  Make room! 

The people listened, and gave them room to get through.  They lifted her onto the gurney, and took her back to the ambulance.

Medic: You guys are going to take her into Etobicoke, right?  That's the nearest facility with a burn ward. 

Kent: Yeah.

Medic: Hey, is your partner ok?

He motioned over to Stanley, who stood transfixed taking in the flame. 

Kent: it's his first week on the job.

Medic: I know what you mean, nobody could have seen this coming.  At least it didn't spread.

Stanley frowned from across the road, Kent took him by the arm, practically forcing him into the ambulance, knowing that they wouldn't be taking her to Etobicoke, or to any medical facility at all.  As they shut the doors and started to speed off, Stanley watched the blaze in all it's glory as it disappeared from his rearview mirror. 



It was hours after Toronto General had stopped burning, and Marcus felt powerless as he stood within the walls of city hall.  Nobody could know that the Mayor had been kidnapped, but worse reports had surfaced.  The men responsible for burning down Toronto General had been identified from a traffic camera that had caught the whole thing.  Both men were identified as members of the Toronto Star Syndicate, and the ambulance they arrived in had been reported stolen earlier in the morning.  Worse, The camera had picked up them carting Jean away.  The ambulance had been lost in the sea of paramedics and the general chaos that Toronto seemed to be in. 

If that wasn't enough, today was also the final day of the G-20 Summit.  With the assault on the convention centre thwarted, Marcus had to believe that Lazarus was going to attempt to make some final move towards attacking the world leaders as they left the city.  Marcus turned to one of the Mayors paiges. 

Marcus: We need to have every bridge and airport secured.  I want people on top, inside and underneath everywhere that any of the world leaders are traveling.

Paige: Will do. 

Marcus: There is nothing more important than getting these people to safety. 

Marcus was at the end of his rope.  Frustrated, not just with the standoff with Lazarus, but also feeling powerless.  Lazarus held all the cards, he had Dorian, and Jean, and there was no telling what he would do to them…or what he had already done.  And to make matters worse, Morpheus hadn't offered any help.  Lazarus would be much easier to find if he could travel through the dream realm, using Morpheus's powers.  He might have been able to save Jean with Morpheus's help…instead…

His phone began to ring.  Not the call he was hoping for.  The call was coming from Dorians phone, which meant that it could only be Lazarus.  He answered.

Lazarus: This is one hell of a chess game we're playing, eh?

Marcus: Where is Jean?

Lazarus: Oh the girl?  She's being taken care of.  Don't worry about her.  She's very sick you know.  I think she should see a doctor.  Do you know anyone?

Lazarus laughed with a sick cackle.  Lazarus was a skilled surgeon.  In fact it was he who removed Dorian's heart and put it in the torture device.  He kept Dorian alive, only to make his life hell.  Lazarus was all sorts of sick.

Marcus: What do you want? 

Lazarus: I want to arrange a meeting.  Not with you, but with the Toronto Star.  Put on your power ranger outfit and meet me at my warehouse at midnight.  You will receive the directions in a text message later tonight.

The phone clicked itself off.  Marcus considered the offer for a moment.  The timing wasn't good.  With the world leaders set to travel at eight PM, he would be giving Lazarus plenty of time to put their lives in danger. 

But really what choice did he have?



Lazarus stood in his warehouse, watching Jean Blitzer as she rested peacefully in her cell. 

Lazarus: Excellent work Kent.  I'm very impressed with your judgment. 

Kent: Thank you sir.

Lazarus: And you, Stan, how did you like your masterpiece? 

stanley: I…I thought it would spread sir. 

Lazarus: Oh but it will Stan!  It's going to spread big time.  Not today, but somewhere down the road, what you did today is going to have major repercussions.  First the whole city is going to burn, and then…the world Stan!  A world on fire?  Does that sound like your kind of place?

stanley: Yes sir.  It does sir. 

Lazarus: At'a boy Stan.  Just stay the course, and soon enough this whole world is going to burn. 

Kent: is the girl ok?  Her face got pretty badly burned. 

Lazarus: She'll live.  But she's not going to be turning tricks anytime soon.  She's got those burn marks right across the right side of her face. 

Lazarus stood, considering her for a moment, then he paused, deeply in thought, before turning back to Kent.

Lazarus: Make sure she has a mirror when she wakes up.  One of those full body ones.  I don't want her to miss any details. 

Kent: Ok. 

Lazarus walked away, leaving Kent and Stanley to their orders.  he walked up a flight of stairs, starting to speak as he arrived at the ground level of the warehouse.

Lazarus: Did you miss me Mr. Gray?

Lazarus cocked his head to look at Dorian, who stood in the middle of the room chained to the wall by his neck. 

Dorian: What do you want Laz?

Lazarus: I want the world Dorian.  You should know this by now. 

Dorian: But what's all this for?

Lazarus: All this?  Dorian, it hasn't even started yet.  You think this id the finale to some master plan?  This is all just a prologue to something even bigger than you can imagine. 

Dorian: What do you mean?

Lazarus: I'm going to summon the Klemora Comet. 

Dorian stood stunned, and looked at Lazarus skeptically before speaking again.

Dorian: The Klemora comet?  Lazarus, thats not a real thing.  It's just a legend. 

Lazarus: A legend of immortals, passed down from generation to generation.  My dear Dorian, this is no simple legend.  The Klemora Comet is a real thing.  And when I summon it, It will bring about the end of the world as we know it. 

Dorian: Lazarus, you don't know what your talking about.  Even if the Comet was real, you would need a seed from the Tree of Light to summon it.  There are no trees left.

Lazarus smiled his sinister smile once again.

Lazarus: Have you ever heard of Svarbald Dorian?

Dorian: No.

Lazarus: Not a lot of people have.  It's a small Norweigen island, less than nine hundred miles from The North Pole.  It's a cold ass place, with nothing to do, and nobody of note…except, a global seed vault.  Within this seed vault, there for the taking was a seed of no known name or origin.  A seed that could one day grow into a tree.  A tree that would provide the fruit to make immortals.  The Tree of Light. 

Dorian: No…

Lazarus: Yes Dorian.  I have this seed now.  And when I use it, I will summon the Klemora Comet, and then things will get very, VERY interesting, I promise you this. 



The world leaders were as prepared as they ever could be to leave.  Marcus could do nothing but wait for his fateful phone call.  He mused to himself how balanced his life always seemed to be.  Things were grim now for the Mayor and Jean, but things were also equally ominous in his other career at LPW.  Less than a week ago, he had beat Krimson Mask, one of LPW's most celebrated superstars, and now he would have to do it again.  Only this time he had to contest with four others in order to do it.  He knew it was useless to think about his professional career right now, but he couldn't seem to keep his mind from wandering.

The Death Cube.  More times than could be counted it had lived up to it's name.  Nobody ever died, but they might as well have for all the chaos that went on inside of it. 

Not only that, but he knew that should he enter this match, it would put a strain on his relationship with The Awakened.  Today had soured him on their alliance even further.  He held the United States Championship, and was challenging for the world title.  But it wasn't the world title that bothered him, it was the man who held it.  To take the title, he would need to beat Morpheus himself.  If it did happen…how would the king of the dream realm respond?  Not well he suspected, but Morpheus had a way of surprising people. 

But then what about Azreal?  If Marcus managed to become the world champion, he wouldn't expect a warm welcome from Azreal.  Azreal would be just as hungry for the title. 

Brown and Nigel were threats, men who could hurt him, but losing men who had been like brothers to him would be the worst loss. 

And then the final piece in the puzzle. 

Krimson Mask. 

Krimson Mask had always been a man that Marcus had great respect for, as far back as their days together in The Illuminati.  Last week Marcus had managed to pin Krimson Mask in the middle of the ring, only for Mask to be rewarded for the loss with a spot in the title match anyway.  Marcus wasn't one to complain, but he sincerely doubted that had he lost, he would have received the same treatment.

Despite his reputation as being one of the hardest men to keep down, Marcus had managed to beat Krimson Mask, a triumphant victory, to be sure.  And now he would need to do it again in order to claim the world title as his own.  The odds were nearly insurmountable, but still Marcus clung desperately to his hope.

What filled him with doubt more than the idea of losing the match was the idea of losing even more friends.  After his recent blow-up with Andy, Marcus didn't want to lose any more friends.  It almost seemed wrong that Andy had been drifting away from his mind over the course of the last few weeks.  And why not?  It had been over a month, and there was still no response from him.  Andy had been unresponsive at all turns, and it was yet another thing Marcus knew was all his fault.  Andy was in a coma, and he might never wake up again. 

"Would that be the worst thing in the world?"  Marcus wondered to himself.

Morpheus: The worst things are not of this world.

Marcus: Morpheus!

Morpheus had appeared behind him, as if out of thin air. 

Morpheus: I sensed I was needed.

Marcus: I needed you 3 hours ago!  Where were you!?

Morpheus: Apologies Marcus, the dream realm was out of balance, and I was needed.  I heard your call, but was in the midst of fixing the problem, and could not leave. 

Marcus: It's pretty convenient that every other time I've needed you, you've come, but now that we're about to be opponents you couldn't be bothered to open a portal for me. 

Morpheus: I have no ill will Marcus, I intend to keep my title as much as you intend to take it.  At the end of the day whatever happens, happens.  I will do everything within my power to keep my title, but if lost, It would be best kept within the Awakened. 

Marcus: And what about Azreal?

Morpheus shrugged his shoulders, as casually as the lord and master of the dream realm possibly could. 

Morpheus: Ask him. 

Marcus smiled. 

Morpheus: Still, my heart feels for you, and I will help you on your quest.  As a sign of respect.  As a showing that we are part of a larger web.  One which cannot be broken by material items.  We are Awakened.  Come.

Morpheus stepped backwards, and beyond him opened up a worm-hole to oblivion.  Marcus stepped through it, as the lights of the room faded away, and gave way to the purple-black cosmos that is the Dream Realm. 

Morpheus: I know where your foe is, I see all.  And though I make effort to not get involved in the doings of your people, I will help you this time. 

Marcus was taken back.  Could this be the same man who's friendship he feared losing only minutes ago?

Marcus: Thank you.

It came out sheepishly, but only because he meant it.  Morpheus waved his hand, and once again, as if by magic, a whirling purple vortex opened up before the pair. 

Morpheus: We will arrive much earlier than expected, giving the leaders of your world time to flee unnoticed, and distracting your foe from their escape.

Marcus: Thats perfect.  He'll be to busy dealign with us that he won't have time to take out the world leaders. 

Marcus and Morpheus walked through the crack in time and space and stepped out into the street.  Marcus looked down at his hands, and noticed he was now in the disguise of the Toronto Star.  Morpheus had vanished.



Dorian stood chained in the middle of the room.  He was held in place by the neck.  Dorian sat on his knees, with his back arched over.  From the shadows a figure stepped forward.

Dorian: Tell your master he can go to hell.

The man stepped out of the shadows, and seemed to be just as dark.  Morpheus stood before him.

Morpheus: I have no master. 

Morpheus reached out a hand and placed it on a chain.  The chain seemed to melt away, as if decomposing rapidly.  Purple embers pooled around the rapidly liquifying chains.  The chain snapped off, as Morpheus reached over and did the same thing to the last link of chain that held Dorian to the wall. 

Dorian: Morpheus!  Thank you!  Where's Marcus?

Morpheus: He will return when it is time.  For now, we must leave.  What Marcus does now, he must do alone. 

Once again a portal opened before them.  Dorian eagerly stepped through, as Morpheus did the same. 



Lazarus watched the security footage over again.  He watched Morpheus snap the chains and then vanish into thin air with his prisoner.

Lazarus: Shouldn't someone somewhere be doing SOMETHING about this!?

Kent: We were waiting for orders sir.

Lazarus: You need orders!?  IF SOME SEVEN FOOT TALL GOTH-DEMON MATERIALIZES OUT OF THIN AIR, TRYING TO TAKE ONE OF OUR PRISONERS, CONSIDER YOURSELF ORDERED TO STOP HIM!

Lazarus shoved Kent back into the wall.

Lazarus: If he's here, we can expect Marcus here any second.  Keep the girl unconscious, and keep her hidden.  I want eyes on her at all times. 

A crash came from the skylight above, as The Masked Toronto Star landed on one of Lazarus's guards on a nearby catwalk.  Lazarus could feel it all unravelling quick.  Marcus was supposed to come later, and he was supposed to come alone.  Lazarus knew he didn't have enough men here, not if he still wanted to hold onto the girl.  He would need to stop Marcus himself, and he would need to do it now.

Lazarus: STOP HIM!

Lazarus and Marcus stood apart on catwalks on opposite sides of the warehouse.  From both sides, Lazarus's troops stormed up the staircases, advancing towards Marcus.  Marcus leapt towards the first man to approach him, and swung a hard right hand.  It connected, but Marcus had no time to celebrate, as he rolled over the back of the falling man, and kicked his legs out, driving another two soldiers down.

Marcus felt almost right at home in the middle of this battle.  He knew he had a few advantages.  For one, The Syndicate wouldn't be armed with guns.  The quarters were too close, and they wouldn't risk shooting one of their own, or Lazarus himself.  For another, Lazarus's forces were mostly made up of the dredges of society.  Nobody here had any training, save for Lazarus himself.  Marcus knew this battle inside and out, these people were merely warm bodies keeping him from his goal. 

He reached out, grabbing another soldier by the throat, and tossing him into another guard.  Both men went toppling over the catwalk below.  From behind Marcus heard the advancing of footsteps, but he grabbed one of the guards and tossed him into the sea of approaching people.  They teetered over, with one flying over the railing.  Marcus looked forward, and saw Lazarus advancing towards him.  He readied himself, and turned to see a group of soldiers blocking his escape, but advancing no further. Behind Lazarus, soldiers moved into a line.  They weren't trying to capture him, they were giving the two immortals room to fight. 

The two enemies eyed each other, Lazarus with a sick smile, and a knowing glare.  Marcus with the focused determination that had made him into the man he was today.

Lazarus: Well don't just stand there, I don't have all day. 

Marcus leaped forward, but Lazarus drove his boot directly into his chest.  Marcus staggered back, but Lazarus didn't let up.  He brought his elbow down hard against his opponents jaw, and Marcus felt it pop out of place.  He cried out in anguish.  Lazarus kicked his legs out, sweeping the feet, and Marcus went tumbling down to the ground. 

Lazarus: How did you think this was going to go, kid?  I've outclassed you in every way imaginable, and there isn't a move you can make that I won't already be expecting.  Simply put son, you're out of your league. 

Lazarus kicked Marcus in the ribs as he tried to rise. 

Lazarus: No, stay down.  On your knees beneath me, just like the rest of the world is going to be when this is all over. 

Marcus tried to rise again, but Lazarus pulled him up by the neck. 

Lazarus: Time to die. 

Lazarus reached towards the back of Marcus's helmet, and unhooked the clasps.  They came apart with a snap, as the Mask of the Toronto Star fell to the ground below. 

Lazarus: Look at me!  LOOK AT ME.

Lazarus's eyes were sharp, with a  focused determination, his mouth had narrowed into a slit, like the lips of a predator before it's final attack. 

Lazarus: This-

Lazarus was interrupted by the crackle of Marcus's walkie talkie.  From across the line, the voice of a paige came through crisply. 

Paige: That's the last of them.  The world leaders have all successfully left Toronto.

Lazarus reached down with one hand and picked up the Walkie Talkie from Marcus's belt.  Marcus tried to struggle as the other hand crushed against his windpipe, but to no avail.  Lazarus looked down and examined the Walkie Talkie. 

Lazarus: This was your plan then?  Distract me?  Keep me from killing the world leaders?  Marcus, this is about so much more than just that.  I'm going to destroy this world, unfortunately you won't be around to witness it.

With that, Lazarus threw Marcus over the railing, into the ground below.  As he fell, Marcus watched as the ceiling grew, further and further away.  He looked up to see Lazarus, getting smaller and smaller, but the sinister smile on his face ever the same.  As he fell, he noticed the swirling purple vortex begin to surround him. 

Morpheus! 

He landed in the middle of the mayors office, as he gazed at the portal above him, breathing heavily.  Marcus looked to his left, and saw Morpheus and Dorian standing beside him. 

Marcus: You're safe? 

Dorian: Yeah, Morpheus saved me.  And you just now. 

Marcus gazed into the starry eyes of his friend.

Marcus: He's been doing that a lot lately. 

Morpheus: This is far from the time for jokes Marcus.  When next we meet, I cannot offer you the same kindness. 

Marcus: I know Morph.  And I'm looking forward to it.  May the best man win. 

Marcus and Morpheus shook hands. 

Dorian: We've got bigger problems.  Lazarus still has Jean!

Marcus looked around and for the first time noticed that Jean was indeed missing.

Marcus: Damn!  We still need to save her!

Morpheus: Alas it will need to be another time.  There are pressing issues at hand.

Marcus: What could be more pressing Morpheus? 

Morpheus: Your comrade has told me that Lazarus plans to summon the Klemora Comet. 

Dorian: That's just a legend.

Morpheus: IT IS NO LEGEND, YOU FOOL.  The Klemora Comet is very real, and if Lazarus can summon it as he says, he could very well bring about the end of this world. 

Dorian: He has a seed.  At least he says he does. 

Morpheus: Then we will need to remove it from him.

Marcus: What is this?  What's the Klemora Comet?

Morpheus and Dorian looked at each other for a moment.  Dorian was the first to speak.

Dorian: He's going to use it to awaken the First Immortal.

Morpheus: Metron.  His name is Metron.





City At War: Epilogue


Lazarus and Kent stood below, looking at where Marcus's body should have been laying. 

Lazarus: In the future, kill all seven foot tall goths that you see.  Just as a precaution, ok Kent?  Consider yourself ordered.

Kent let the words roll off of him.

Kent: Marcus got away sir.

Lazarus: Your very observant today Kent.  I can see why we keep you around.  Yes Marcus got away, but I got exactly what I needed. 

Lazarus reached down to the ground where his prize had fallen, and pulled it up, proudly displaying it to Kent. 

He held in his hands the Helmet of the Toronto Star.

Lazarus: Bring me Jeans father.  Call Gregory Blitzer.



A short while later Jeans father, Gregory Blitzer rode his chopper into the warehouse.  They had his daughter, and he was going to get her back.  As he rode in, he saw Lazarus right away. 

Lazarus: Your daughter is in the basement.  Just down those steps.  Step lightly now.

This smelled like a trap.  It reeked of a trap.  But what choice did he have?  Gregory eyed Lazarus carefully, and, without taking his eyes off the madman, made his way down the stairs.  He saw her immediately.  She was unconscious, laying in her cell. 

Gregory: Jean! 

He rushed over to her.  Separated by bars, he could still see the horror that was her burned face. 

Gregory: Oh Jean…your face! 

Jean started to stir. 

Jean: Dad…?

She reached up and touched her face.  She felt pieces of her cheek start to flake away as her fingers scraped agains the skin. 

Jean: My face…Dad…whats happening?

Gregory: I don't know baby, I don't know…

And with that, a knife tore through the chest of Gregory Blitzer.  Jean screamed a blood curdling scream, as her fathers blood splattered across her already burned face.  She looked up, as her father fell to the ground, knife still sticking out from both ends of his body, and looked into the face of the Toronto Star. 

Stanley's job had been simple.  He would put on the mask, and the suit, and would kill the girls father in front of her.  He looked down at her.  She was a beautiful girl, even with those burns across her face.  Stanley liked them.  How could anyone not?  She retreated back into a corner of the cell, never taking her eyes off of the Toronto Star.  Looking into the Star of his mask.  She looked at her father, and she knew right away he was dead.  And soon she would be too.  She started to weap, sobbing uncontrollably, into her hands.  Salty tears streamed down her face as she closed her eyes.  She heard a clash of steel, and opened her eyes to see The Toronto Star fall to his knees, a sword in the middle of his chest. 

And holding that sword, a man she had never seen before.  Lazarus stood before her, sword in-hand. 

Lazarus: Hey miss…it's ok.  I'm one of the good guys.  The Star is dead. 

He spoke clearly, with empathy.  She believed his words.  She believed every one of them.

Lazarus: Miss…are you ok?  I'm here to save you. 



The flight had given Marcus the time he needed to think.  For the Death Cube he would need someone to hold his towel, to surrender on his behalf.  Marcus had chosen Dorian for the job.  What he really worried about was what Lazarus had said to him during their fight. 

Lazarus: How did you think this was going to go, kid?  I've outclassed you in every way imaginable, and there isn't a move you can make that I won't already be expecting.  Simply put son, you're out of your league.

The words shook him.  He had been ready for Lazarus.  He had ambushed HIM in fact…But still Lazarus had dominated him.  He was, in fact out of his league.  He couldn't help but feel that way about the Death Cube as well. 

Morpheus had been the champion for well over a year.  To dethrone him now would take nothing short of a miracle. And Marcus hadn't been feeling very religious lately.  Morpheus had been there for him, even if they hadn't managed to save Jean.  Marcus made a promise to himself that he would be there for Morpheus.  If the belt wasn't going to come home with him, it would at least be coming home with someone in The Awakened. 

He knew Azreal would fight and fight hard, and if it couldn't be Morpheus, and if it couldn't be himself,  he would do everything in his power to make sure the title rested around Azreals waist.

Vanderbilt and Brown could be threats, but the man who would be the most dangerous would be Krimson Mask.  Krimson Mask, the man who didn't need a death cube to cause terror.  The man who thought the world would be ending, and placed it all on the shoulders of The Awakened.  Marcus knew that he had looked into the eyes of the storm, and the storm had blinked first.  He had pinned Krimson Mask once, and he could beat him again inside the Death Cube. 

And then…hope.  Marcus knew that Krimson Mask had been the key.  The tool he would need.  He had beat Krimson Mask once.  And he had done it without The Awakened.  He had been Brown, he had beat Vanderbilt.  And he never needed any help to do it.  He held the United States Title, and he had done it without the help of The Awakened.  If he had come this far…could he go even further?  The idea scared him, and excited him all at the same time.  He knew that doing this would cement his legacy forever.  A win at Ragnarok would mean that he could go on to face the International Heavyweight Champion at Altered Reality 6.  This was the time for dreams to come true.  This was a time for him, and for nobody else.  Which was fine, because that's all he would need.  He knew that if it came down to it, despite how Morpheus had helped him, and despite Morpheus's position over him…he would be able to pull the trigger.  He would do whatever it took to win, and to cement his legacy like nobody had ever done before. 

Houston was his next stop…He had business there, and then he would be ready for the Deathcube.

Like Ragnarok, he was ready for the end. 


"He looks so peaceful".  That was the first thing I thought when I walked into his room.  I saw him there, laying peacefully in the hospital bed, and I thought to myself "He would hate it if he could see himself now" His eyes were rested, his mouth and face lay emotionless. 

Marcus: You left me with a note.  I've got one for you.

Marcus tossed an envelope onto Andys lifeless body, and then walked out of the room, slamming the door as he went. 

The camera zooms in on Andy's body, still motionless, unaffected by Marcus's unheard words.  As the camera pans up, it focuses in on the letter. 

<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnQISOmFNCw" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnQISOmFNCw</a>
Editors Note: just the words in the video are relevant, click listen.



Jean had refused to leave her cell for days.  She had looked at herself in the mirror endlessly, trying to figure out just who was looking back at her.  This was not the face she knew.  This was not the face that belonged to her. 

Lazarus stood nearby, ever helpful. 

Lazarus: Miss, are you going to be ok?  We managed to find some food if you're hungry. 

She was hungry.  It had seemed like days since she had eaten.  She nodded. 

Lazarus left.  Jean went back to looking at herself in the mirror.  Who was this stranger starting back at her? she wondered.  When Lazarus returned, she sat and ate with her back to him. 

Lazarus: Miss…are you ready to come out now. 

Jean: I…I don't want to be seen.  I don't want people to see my face.

She said it with a heavy breath.  She was ashamed, and frightened, and so many other things, all at once.

Once again that sick smile returned to his face, unseen by his guest.  He held up the helmet that had once belonged to the Toronto Star

Lazarus: Don't worry darling.  I have just the thing. 


NEXT: FIRE FROM THE SKY

(OOC: More to come just wanna have something posted)

As the journey to Altered Reality comes to an end it feels like….fuck it I got nothing. Instead of giving you guys a kickass promo as usual, I’m just gonna do a day by day blog leading up to Ragnarok. Kinda losing my motivation to entertain you guys. I come out and try to have incredible matches only to lose practically every single damn time. I’m damn confident Ragnarok is gonna be no different. Ugh. I’m teaming up with someone who’s either gonna be too fuckin stoned to show up to take on a guy who gets handed shit on a silver platter and some emo nut job. Guess that’s the type of competition I get now for losing. Welcome to the lowercard chump. Enjoy the show.


Tuesday May 29,2012 11:11pm
Mississauga, Ontario

While I’m sitting here eating this order of Chinese food it’s beginning to dawn on me that this weekend’s show Ragnarok is the last big Insanity show before we go to war against Pyromania. Wouldn’t it be a great way to go into Altered Reality 6 with my second win? I think so. First though there’s a lot going on this week before we fly across the Atlantic Ocean into Norway. Heading down to Detroit, Michigan tomorrow to meet up with Ozzy and then we driving down to Dallas to be there by tomorrow night. Why are we going to Dallas since we’re not on the Blistering Inferno card? Simple. I got business to tend to with Azreal before our respective matches. He thinks he can get away with the mindfuckery he did in the beginning of the year but that shit ends now. The road to Ragnarok will be where Azreal’s reign of terror against Altered State dies. Anyways, I’m outta here. See you guys tomorrow.

Wednesday May 30,2012 6:55am
Mississauga, Ontario

What’s up guys, it’s five to seven in the morning and I’m bout to jump in the shower, pack my bags and make my way down to the D. Should be a good relaxing trip over. See ya in a bit.

Wednesday May 30,2012 6:55am
Bluewater Bridge(Between Ontario and Michigan)

 

Vertigo PPV Pre-Show

Revitalization Singles Match
Bobino vs. Blackwell

Cross Brand Tag Team Match*
Paul Brooks and Trey Spruance vs. Mr. Golden & Sixx King

 RAGNAROK!!!

Four-Man Tournament for Insanity Team II Captain at Altered Reality 6
Damien Blaze vs. Ozzy Crerar vs. Daientine vs. Pope Fred

Cross Brand Old School Strong Style Match*
Phantom Lord vs. Hustle

Steel Chain Match
X vs. Sean Jensen

Television and Hardcore Championship Unification Match
Steve Storme © vs. Cyborg Lincoln ©

MAIN EVENT – Death Cube Match for the World Heavyweight Championship
Morpheus © vs. Azreal vs. Big B. Brown vs. Krimson Mask vs. Nigel Vanderbilt vs. Ultramarcus

The scene opens in the Audience Hall in the Dream Realm. As the camera pans in, it becomes clear that the throne is empty, though the torches still burn in their sconces. The camera pans off to the left, settling for a moment on the table off to the side of the dais where a game of Checkers is usually in play. This time, however, the remnants of a game of Chess lie scattered across the table.

The camera continues panning further to the right, when finally a figure can be seen silhouetted against the great window that overlooks the ever-changing landscape of the Dreaming. The deep purple sky offers more light than the minimal illumination offered by the torches inside, so at first the silhouette is blurred and unclear. As the camera adjusts to the light, it becomes clear that the figure standing in the window is Morpheus.

He is standing with his back to the camera, arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders visibly moving as though his hands are busy, though the bulk of his frame blocks the camera from seeing what they might be doing. He continues gazing out the window, turning his head slightly as a pterodactyl flies past the window in pursuit of a dwarf in a glider plane. His attention turns slightly once again as red lightning flashes from the sky, splitting an old willow tree in the distance. His attention never turns away from the window, however, and after a long moment of silence, he finally begins to speak.

Morpheus: I don’t even know where to start.

I’ve never been the sort of person who wears their heart on their sleeve. Not surprising, when you think about it. After so many eras with the weights of worlds on one’s shoulders, one either develops a strong, rigid foundation to carry it, or one droops and buckles under the weight.

The problem then becomes the fine line between a solid foundation and an impenetrable wall.

I suppose I should be careful when using the word problem in this instance. After all, that impenetrable wall has served me well for so long, it’s hard to imagine what existence would have been like without it. It’s different for the average person, who needs connections and interactions with others in order to lead truly fulfilling lives. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, I am not saddled by such a need.

I learned long ago that it’s difficult to want to form such connections, when right from the start you have the knowledge that everything you come to know and care for is transient and will pass on while you remain behind, mourning the loss of that connection.

Who Wants To Live Forever?

I suppose it’s not as bad for me as it might be for others in similar situations. Not that there are a whole lot of them, mind you, but that’s a separate point entirely.

You could say that being the Master of the Dream Realm has its privileges. Without getting into any metaphysical debates about the afterlife and what happens to something when it dies, when that natural physiological inevitability does come to pass, the only thing that remains of that entity are memories held by those it leaves behind.

And what is the Dream Realm but a plane of infinite potential shaped by the thoughts, desires, and memories of Dreamers?

Morpheus looks down for a moment, before his head rises again and his gaze returns its focus out the great window.

Morpheus: I can see that you’re beginning to get a little confused about where I’m going with this, so I’ll get to the point. In the Dream Realm, in a way, nothing ever really dies. As long as Memories of them remain, someone can continue to wander the world of Dreams long after their physical forms have ceased walking the waking worlds.

Long ago… Longer ago than I’d truly care to remember, I suffered my first true lost connection.  I had only known true emotional connection with my siblings before, and they, like me, are Endless, so this sort of thing had never even entered my mind. But then, I made the mistake of falling in love…

‘Tis better to have loved and lost?

You could have fooled me.

I was nothing short of devastated. It felt like every inch of my entire soul, as it were, was dying a slow, agonizing death; a death I knew would never actually reach its conclusion. That was the one time I voluntarily shirked my duties and responsibilities as Dream Master, and I went into mourning for an extended period of time, holding vigil at her side, and taking up a sort of twisted temporary residence inside her tomb.

Seriously, these Emo kids today have nothing on me.

A little over a year passed, as you would reckon it, before my little sister came and sat with me one night. She didn’t say a word, she just sat next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. We sat that way all night, until finally, as the sun was starting to peek its first rays over the horizon and its new light flooded the open doorway, she said to me, so softly I could barely hear…

“It’s Time.”

I nodded my head slowly, and she stood up, stooped down and kissed my cheek, and giggled as she skipped off out the door and down the hill, disappearing from sight. After another long moment, I finally rose, said my goodbyes to my love, and returned to my post at the helm of the Dreaming.

When I returned, things were in a disastrous state. Nightmares were running amok completely unchecked and wreaking havoc, while some Daydreams decided to overstep their bounds causing an epidemic of comas across several worlds that were never medically explained. On top of all that, Aspiration, who was one of my cabinet members, if I could be said to have had such a thing, took up drinking under the stress of de facto leadership in my absence and accidentally asexually spawned Depression, who we’re still struggling to get back under control.

It’s amazing how quickly things devolve into Chaos without someone there to keep things in check.

It was a massive undertaking just to return things to some semblance of order around here. It completely occupied my mind and demanded every conscious thought I had, and for the first time since her death, I was no longer consumed with anguish and thoughts of my beloved Ariella.

I was able to focus my mind on the task at hand, and truly reclaim my place as Master of the Dreaming, exerting my control back over my domain and righting the things that had been made wrong in my absence. When I finally looked around and saw that my work was at long last finished, I sat on my throne… That very throne right there, in fact… And I rested. I closed my eyes for a moment, satisfied with a job well done.

I felt a hand rest on my arm.

Her hand.

I opened my eyes and looked to my right, and I saw her standing there, smiling at me just as she had always been. I was overtaken with joy, and the next days were celebrated with feasts and grand parties the likes of which had never been seen in the Dream Realm before. And that’s saying something, trust me.

It was then that I first realized the principle I mentioned before, that nothing ever truly dies in the Dream Realm. Just as Legends live on in the waking world long after their subjects have passed on, Memories live on forever on this side of the veil.

As time went on, I reveled in the lifetimes upon lifetimes I got to spend with Ariella; much more time than we would have had even if she had lived to the fullness of her days. At the same time, though, my understanding of this principle developed more fully until I realized the fundamental truth that was at the center.

In the Dream Realm, Memories live on forever.

And that’s exactly what they were.

Memories.

And that’s exactly what she was.

A Memory.

Once that realization struck me, I suppose I started being a bit more observant while I was around her, and I started noticing things that had escaped my attention before. The way she moved, the way she would always be at just the right angle for me to see her just how I remembered her in a given situation, the way she always did things just the way she had done them before.

After some time, another realization dawned on me: She never did anything new. Everything she did and said was something that I had seen her do or say while she was still… While she still lived. I spent some time away from her, thinking on exactly what was going on, and that’s when the full understanding of what was going on hit me. She was a Memory, not the real thing. She wasn’t Ariella.

The woman that I loved was gone. Truly gone.

This was just a Shadow.

And that’s all Memories are – Shadows of things we once held dear.

Or things we fear…

From that day on, I began to distance myself from Ariella, trying to separate her in my mind from her living Shadow. In time, the Shadow began to fade, until the day came that she disappeared entirely. From time to time, I still see her wandering about the Dream Realm, and whenever we see each other, we always meet with a smile, but it never goes any further. It’s strange to have someone you loved so deeply for so long become nothing more than a passing acquaintance.

Morpheus breathes deeply and sighs, looking up toward the sky.

Morpheus: From the day I began to distance myself from Ariella’s Shadow, I also began pondering the nature of these connections – what they were, how they formed, their effects  while they existed as well as when they ended.

I suppose this very subject has been the topic of many a philosophical rumination, and you’ll probably find as many different viewpoints as there are viewers. However, I look at things through a drastically different lens than most. A much longer lens, as it were. I came to the conclusion that these emotional connections, while powerful and in some ways euphoric as they occurred, lead to even more powerful pain and suffering when the connection is severed; pain which far outlasted the duration of the connection itself.

It was upon this realization that I decided that it wasn’t worth it. I promised myself I would no longer allow myself to form such connections again.

Morpheus’ gaze follows a bright orange shooting star as it burns across the Dream Realm sky. He looks down at his arms once more, and then returns his focus to the scene outside his window, where a giraffe with a house on its back is running amidst a pride of lions down a major highway set on stilts above a green lake.

Morpheus: I kept that promise. Ariella lived and died on a world that fell out of the sky before the Earth’s Sun was even born, and in all that time since then, I never formed another such connection again.

Now, that’s not to say I’ve been entirely without companionship in all that time. I’ve had trysts, brief relationships, and other sorts of friendships and dalliances over the years. I’ve even had children. Several, in fact, though none in the last few hundred years or so…

But all of those relationships were brief, and I pulled myself away from them the moment I felt a true connection beginning to form. In this way, I managed to stave off the perpetual loneliness that would otherwise have been my fate, as it has been for more than one of my siblings, while upholding the promise I made to myself not to get intertwined into such an emotional trap again.

By remaining free of such emotional tethers, I have been able to focus on my duties and responsibilities as Master of the Dream Realm, and all has been well. I have seen worlds born, and I have seen them crumble to dust after their last soul passed on, and through it all I have been here, at my post, remaining the impartial observer; the good soldier doing exactly what he is meant to do.

You see, there is a very interesting relationship between the Dream Realm and myself. The Dream Realm exists as an extension of myself and the power I have through my responsibility as the Lord of the Dreaming, but at the same time, my existence is predicated on that responsibility. To use an analogy, the Dreaming is the wind beneath my wings, but I am the air that drives that wind. In short, neither of us can exist without the other.

The whole fiasco of everything that happened during my absence from the Dream Realm as I mourned Ariella proved to me beyond any doubt that my responsibilities are more important than anything else in this universe. Anything. By allowing something else to draw my full attention away from my post, I am quite literally inviting disaster to erupt inside my Realm – disasters that bleed through into the waking worlds through their connections to the Dreaming.

Quite simply put, I cannot let that happen.

So for all this time, I have been here, ensuring that order is maintained in a world forged from Potential and rooted in Chaos. I’ve played the role that has been placed in my hands, and I have played it well; without question, and without chaffing under the yoke of responsibility. While I remained an integral part of the waking worlds, I remained aloof from them, separated by my own self-imposed devotion to my work. I, along with all six of my siblings, was always watching, but never interfering.

So it has been written, and so it had been done.

Morpheus sighs deeply, looking down at his crossed arms once more.

Morpheus: And then all Hell broke loose.

Morpheus’ head snaps back up again as what appears to be a mushroom cloud erupts in the far distance. He turns his head to the side as his hair gets whipped around in the wind from the blast, and small bits of debris come flying in the window, a few of which pelt off the camera, as well as the cameraman, who utters a barely audible curse as the wind dies back down, and Morpheus surveys the aftermath.

Morpheus: cYnical began his selfish crusade to bring about the downfall of the God-King Zeus, and in so doing set in motion a series of events that threatened to tear apart the fabric of reality. This forced my hand, and for the first time in the History of Everything, I found myself leaving behind the passive role of observer and taking an active role in preventing the End of All Things from coming to pass.

Of course, as much as I’d like to think I am all-powerful, as within this Realm I essentially am just that, I knew two things. First, that this battle would be taking place not in this Realm, but across the Veil in the waking worlds, and second, that it was going to take more than just myself to ensure the survival of Reality.

Enter The Awakened.

Ultramarcus. Steve Storme. Azreal. The three members of The Awakened that everyone knows. There’s also… Well, no spoilers. I’m sure people will be finding out in time. These three men have had the courage of conviction to stand with me in defense of Reality, using the power of pure Potential found in Dreams as their primary weapon.

Throughout all of time, I have found only a handful of individuals capable of harnessing and controlling that power, and never more than one in a given epoch. The fact that I have found so many at once speaks to just how dire the state of the Universe is.

Each of these three men have stepped up in the face of the Void and fought back against the Dying of the Light. They have stood with me and battled against what even my own siblings deemed an unstoppable foe. They have become pillars of strength in a crumbling world, and in so doing they have become friends. They’ve become people that I care about, and would fight to the death for.

By breaking one ancient vow to remain an impartial observer, I inadvertently led myself to break the other ancient vow I made.

So much for no connections.

We may not all see eye to eye… In fact, it’s extremely rare that we do. But when it comes down to business, I can think of no better people to have standing at my side. I have found myself opening up to them, even as they have done the same to me. I have found that by nature all four of us are not the most open and trusting individuals, and yet we have developed a bond that has allowed us to see past our respective walls.

I’ve wondered what things would have been like had I never let them in, and remained closed off like I had for so long, and I have come to realize that had I done so, things wouldn’t be like anything at all.

The End would have already arrived.

Are these new connections a weakness? Things that will eventually come to haunt me? Quite possibly, the answer is yes. But for the first time since Ariella, I have found myself in such a situation that I don’t care.

I wouldn’t give these connections up if I could.

Fortunately, I can’t, so there’s no use second-guessing myself, eh?

Morpheus chuckles to himself as he moves his left arm, opening his coat.

Morpheus: Actually, there’s one more connection I’ve made.

Morpheus reaches out and lays the LPW World Heavyweight Championship across the windowsill.

Morpheus: It’s funny. I never set out to become the World Champion, and at first it was merely the means to an end. However, as time has gone on, I have grown to like being the Champion. As I have held and defended this Title, the means have become the end itself.

I’ve never been very good with human emotions. The few times I’ve dabbled in them have led to disaster, as I’ve already mentioned. However, I have to admit that I just might be starting to get the hang of them a little bit.

What started as just a pawn in a larger game has turned into a reason for playing that game. This Championship has become more important to me than I might care to admit. I can’t really explain why, either. Although I’m sure the fact that it’s shiny and impressive doesn’t hurt, I think it’s much more than that. At the center of it all, I suppose it’s a form of validation for me.

Proof than I am more than just what I was created to do.

If you had told me even just a couple of years ago that things would be as they are now, I would have laughed in your face. Never in a billion years…

Yet, here we are. I find myself still at the center of a maelstrom, fighting against the current just to remain afloat, and with me are the three people and the one thing I care most about. And, surprisingly enough, those connections are the very things making that fight bearable. They are what is keeping me afloat.

And now here we stand, staring into the face of the DeathCube… On the eve of the aptly named Ragnarok… As I stand here… Alone…

And it looks like all of those connections are about to disappear.

Morpheus heaves a heavy sigh, as a muffled sound is heard coming his direction.

Morpheus: Oh, I know. I’ll still have you.

Voice: That’s sweet, Morph.

Morpheus turns around suddenly, and the camera pans over to the right to find Tromboner Man standing a few feet away.

Morpheus: Teebs?

Tromboner Man: TBM thinks he loves you, too.

Morpheus: What?!? Oh, no, wait, I-

Tromboner Man: Hey, it’s ok. TBM was just making a joke. But seriously, Morph, you do realize you’ve been talking to a cat this whole time, right?

The camera zooms out to show both men, and Morpheus is petting the Dream Cat that Azreal created.

Morpheus: I was just… Wait. How long have you been here, Teebs?

Tromboner Man: Long enough to know you’re either growing a vagina, or getting yourself ready to try out to be the new singer for Dashboard Confessional. Personally, The Tromboner Man hopes it’s the latter.

Morpheus: Oy… Now, why exactly are you here, Teebs?

Morpheus opens his coat and puts Oneiro in one of the inside pockets.

Tromboner Man: Oh, hey! TBM keeps his pet cat there too!

Tromboner Man opens his coat, and the roar of a tiger echoes through the room.

Tromboner Man: Did TBM ever thank you for this super-cool Time Lord coat?

Morpheus: Actually, no.

Tromboner Man: He will.

Morpheus: Oooo… Kay… So, back to my question.

Tromboner Man: Which question was that?

Morpheus: What are you doing here?

Tromboner Man: Sorry, Morph. If TBM is interrupting something private, he’ll gladly leave a tender moment alone and come back at a slightly less gay time.

Morpheus: What? No, it’s not that I don’t want you here, Teebs. I was just wondering why you were here at this exact moment, is all.

Tromboner Man: Well, how else was the cameraman supposed to find his way here?

Morpheus and Tromboner Man both look into the camera, Morpheus scowling and rolling his eyes while TBM smiles and waves. They then turn their attention back to one another.

Morpheus: Awesome.

Tromboner Man: Also, TBM wanted to let you know that he has the answers to the questions you asked him.

Morpheus: You do? And what is the answer?

Tromboner Man: Wait a moment. TBM thinks it might be the proper time to remind the viewing audience just what those questions were. And there’s no better way to do that-

Morpheus: Wait, Teebs. Please don’t do-

Tromboner Man: Than with a cutscene.

Morpheus: I love my life.

Morpheus: You can’t expect the Dream Realm to show you everything Teebs. There’s a lot of things you need to answer for yourself. This is one of them. This is your match to lose. Not cﾘnical’s to win.

Tromboner Man: The Tromboner Man never thought of it like that…

Morpheus:  Can you see yourself defeating cﾘnical at Blistering Inferno? Can you see yourself lining up in the Martinez Cup match? Can you see yourself being the man that Pyromania needs to lead it at Altered Reality Six?

Morpheus: I’m really regretting giving you that key…

Tromboner Man: Don’t lie. It’s morally wrong. Anyway, The Tromboner Man wanted to come here and let you know in person that he thought about the things you asked him, and then he had some ice cream with chocolate sprinkles and Swedish fish, and then he thought about them some more, and he came to a decision in which he decided what the answer to your question is.

A few moments go by as Tromboner Man stands there looking at Morpheus with a stoic smile, if there is such a thing.

Morpheus: ... Well?

Tromboner Man: Well, what?

Morpheus: Well, what is the answer?

Tromboner Man: Oh, TBM thought he already told you. Didn’t he already tell you?

Morpheus: No, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be asking.

Tromboner Man: I suppose you have a point.

Morpheus: I usually do.

Tromboner Man: Fair enough.

Morpheus: So…

Tromboner Man: Wait, why are you asking again? TBM is sure he told you that time.

Morpheus: No, you… I mean, I just didn’t hear you.

Tromboner Man: Oh, sorry, Morph. I didn’t realize. THE ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTIONS IS YES!!!

Morpheus: That’s good to hear, Teebs. That’s very good to hear.

Tromboner Man: TBM THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE TO HEAR THAT!!!

Morpheus: Teebs, you can stop yelling now.

Tromboner Man: WHAT???

Morpheus: I said you can stop yelling now.

Tromboner Man: WHAT???

Morpheus: YOU CAN STOP YELLING NOW!!!

Tromboner Man: Ha! Dyno Might owes TBM five shekels of silver now!

Morpheus: What are you talking about?

Tromboner Man: Dyno Might bet The Tromboner Man he couldn’t get Morpheus to turn red enough to see through all of that corpse paint he likes to wear.

Morpheus looks quizzically at Tromboner Man as he nods silently, clearly pleased with himself. After a moment, Morpheus finally relents and gives a brief smile back.

Morpheus: I get half.

Tromboner Man: Sold!

Morpheus: Well, Teebs, I am very glad that you came here and let me know your answer. It makes me very happy.

Tromboner Man: TBM thought it would, and it looks like he got here just in time.

Morpheus: What do you mean?

Tromboner Man doesn’t reply, but just stares out the window with an intense look on his face. After a moment, Morpheus tries again.

Morpheus: Um, Teebs?

Tromboner Man: Hold on a sec, Morph. TBM is concentrating…

Morpheus: Concentrating on what?

Just then, the ground starts to rumble and shake, and Morpheus and TBM both struggle to maintain their balance. TBM starts jumping up and down in excitement as Morpheus turns toward the window.

Morpheus: What the-

Tromboner Man: It’s the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man!

Sure enough, Stay-Puft lumbers by in front of the window, turns his gaze on the room, and roars, sending a blast of wind in that knocks both men and the cameraman to the ground. As they all struggle to their feet, Morpheus gets a look of deadly resolve on his face. He stands in front of the window, facing the massive head of the Marshmallow beast. He takes a broad stance throws his hands out to his sides, and speaks some words in a language that has long since died out. A bright flash of light overexposes the camera, and as it fades and the view returns, the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man is gone.

Morpheus: Damn Muggles.

Tromboner Man: What did you do, Morph?

Morpheus: I took care of business.

Tromboner Man: TBM thinks you crossed the streams.

Morpheus: I don’t even know what that means.

Tromboner Man: Really? How can… Oh, TBM is DEFINITELY getting you a copy of Ghostbusters for Kwanzaa this year.

Morpheus: If I nod and smile, can we move on please?

Tromboner Man: Sure.

Morpheus nods and smiles, which TBM takes as a signal to move on.

Tromboner Man: So, anyway, TBM just wanted to say you’re welcome.

Morpheus: I’m Welcome? For what?

Tromboner Man: For that.

TBM points out the window at where the giant beast made famous by the Ghostbusters franchise stood only moments before.

Morpheus: Wait, I’m Welcome for the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man?

Tromboner Man: Yes.

Morpheus: Why in the world would I be grateful for what you just did?

Tromboner Man: Well, TBM thinks that-

Morpheus: Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? How badly things could have gone wrong?

Tromboner Man: But they didn’t.

Morpheus: They didn’t because I intervened! If I hadn’t put a stop to that thing, there could have been the potential for serious damage to the Dream Realm AND its inhabitants.

Tromboner Man: TBM knows that.

Morpheus: And yet you did it anyway. And you expect me to THANK you for it? Gods Dammit, Teebs! Sometimes I feel like you just don’t think before you do things! Like you’re ruled by impulse, and the impulses of a child no less! If something seems fun, you just do it without even bothering to think about what the repercussions might be! You can’t jus-

Tromboner Man: WILL YOU SHUT THE BLEEP UP AND LET TBM FINISH WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO SAY?!?!?!!!

Morpheus is stunned into silence and stares at Tromboner Man as he breathes heavily, a crease of worry and indignation on his brow.

Morpheus: Fine. Talk.

Tromboner Man: TBM came here to the Dream Realm to let Morpheus know that he helped TBM find his way. Without Morpheus’ pushing and prodding, TBM might never have realized that what Morpheus said before was true: That TBM is worth it. You helped make TBM see that not only does he deserve to defeat cYnical and carry the International Heavyweight Championship into Altered Reality. You helped him see that he CAN defeat cYnical and go to Altered Reality to compete for the Martinez Cup.

Morpheus: Truer words have never been spoken.

Tromboner Man: And now, TBM comes to the Dream Realm to let Morpheus know all of this, and what does he see? He sees Morpheus crying to a cat over a similar crisis of faith!

Morpheus: Now, hold on a minute. I wasn’t crying.

Tromboner Man: Crying. Turning Emo. Same difference. Hey, would you like TBM to help you put on a sweater and comb your hair over one eye?

Morpheus: No. Not even a little.

Tromboner Man: Then snap out of it! TBM made a pact with you to help each other make it to Altered Reality 6 so we can face each other in the most Epic of Epic Matches in all of History. You’ve held up your end of the bargain, and TBM offers his thanks. Now, TBM is here to hold up his.

Morpheus: I don’t…

Tromboner Man: Look at you! Morpheus! The Master of the Dream Realm! One of the most powerful entities that is not a Pokemon! And here you are, nervous and downtrodden because you’ve resigned yourself to losing the things you hold most dear. Well, you might not realize it yet, but TBM just did you a huge favor, and he thinks you should thank him for it.

Morpheus: A Favor??

Tromboner Man: Did TBM stutter?

Morpheus: How could what you just did possibly be construed as a fav- … Wait a minute.

Tromboner Man: That’s right.

Morpheus: Oh, my… You’re right, Teebs. You…

Tromboner Man: …Reminded Morpheus just who the hell he is.

Morpheus: I am Morpheus. I am the Master of the Dream Realm. I am the LPW World Heavyweight Champion.

Tromboner Man: And TBM thinks you’re pretty swell, too, Morph.

Morpheus: Teebs, I am truly sorry I lashed out at you. You are absolutely right. I was wallowing in self-pity, and in the process let it get the best of me. The exact same things I was decrying in you, I fell victim to myself. You’ve helped me see the error of my ways, Teebs. I appreciate that more than you know. Can you forgive me?

Tromboner Man: TBM wishes he could quit you.

Morpheus walks over and embraces TBM in a very manly hug. TBM looks worried for a moment, but then realizes that the embrace is not meant as a homoerotic overture, so he returns the hug. After a few seconds, both men realize that if the hug goes on much longer, they might become infected with gay, so they release the embrace and take a couple of steps back from one another.

Morpheus: Thank you again, Teebs. I promise you, one way or another, I will see you at Altered Reality 6.

Tromboner Man: Oh, TBM thinks you’ll be seeing him before then.

Morpheus: How’s that?

Tromboner Man: TBM will be your Second in the DeathCube Match at Ragnarok.

Morpheus: Oh, well, I-

Tromboner Man: That wasn’t a request. That was a statement. TBM and Morpheus made a pact, and TBM is going to make BLEEP sure that he keeps up his end of the deal.

Morpheus: What I was going to say, Teebs, is that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tromboner Man: Good answer.

Morpheus: Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have a promo to cut.

Tromboner Man: Oh, right. TBM will be over here with the nameless, faceless cameraman who probably isn’t on any of the LPW roster’s Christmas or Kwanzaa lists. TBM wonders if that makes him sad.

Cameraman: Actually, now-

Tromboner Man: But not enough to actually care.

Cameraman: Fair enough.

Tromboner Man walks off camera to stand next to its operator, while Morpheus heads back over to the window. He looks out once more as he begins to speak.

Morpheus: The DeathCube. Six men will enter, and one will leave as the World Heavyweight Champion. That man will go on to represent Insanity and face the International Heavyweight Champion from Pyromania in the Martinez Cup Match at Altered Reality Six. That match is about pride. It is about honor. It is about history.

But for me, it is about so much more.

All of the other men in the DeathCube Match want to win for the honor and for the glory. They want to take my Title so they can go on and etch their names in the history books. They have purely selfish motives.

That will be their downfall.

There is so much more at stake for me. If cYnical wins the International Heavyweight Championship-

Tromboner Man pipes in from off-camera.

Tromboner Man: But he won’t.

Morpheus turns back to face the camera.

Morpheus: I know, but if he does.

Tromboner Man: But he won’t.

Morpheus: Ok, but let’s just play a game where we pretend that he does for just a moment, even though he really won’t. Is that cool?

Tromboner Man: TBM is having a mental battle between his love of games and actual reality. Hmmmm… Ok, games win! Carry on!

Morpheus: Thanks. If cYnical wins-

Tromboner Man: But he won’t.

Morpheus: Alright, alright. He won’t. Which means that the scenario where he goes to Altered Reality 6 to face me, and all of our history finally boils to a head and is laid to rest once and for all when I beat him for the fifth time won’t ever come to pass.

Tromboner Man: Thank goodness! Nobody wants to see that!

Morpheus: Which leaves the other scenario. If Tromboner Man retains the IHC-

Tromboner Man: He will.

Morpheus: -then I go on to have the biggest match of all time against one of the true greats in LPW History.

Tromboner Man: You really think TBM is one of the greats in LPW history?

Morpheus: Of course I do.

Tromboner Man: Oh, man. TBM thinks you’re pretty great, too, Morph.

Morpheus: Thanks, Teebs. Now, can I finish?

Tromboner Man: Sure thing, buddy.

Morpheus: Thanks.

Now, let me put this into simple terms. All of the men that are involved in this match, I have great respect for. Whether or not I like them, whether or not we see eye to eye, they have proven themselves to be worthy competitors. However, more than just the World Heavyweight Championship is on the line in this match. The opportunity to compete for the Martinez Cup also hangs in the balance.

This time, it isn’t about just being worthy.

It’s about being the best.

Look back over the last Season of LPW. When you look at Pyromania, who has been the best on that Brand?

Tromboner Man: Ken Ryans?

Morpheus: That was a rhetorical question, but no, Teebs. Not Ken Ryans. The man that beat him for the International Heavyweight Championship.

Tromboner Man: Oh, right. That was… Hey! That was The Tromboner Man!

Morpheus: That’s right, Teebs. You. Far and away, it’s been you.

Tromboner Man: You’re making TBM blush.

Morpheus: Then I’ll digress.

Now, turn your attention back to Insanity. Over the last LPW Season, who has been the best on that Brand?

Big B. Brown?

Nigel Vanderbilt?

Krimson Mask?

Ultramarcus?

Azreal?

No. As much as it pains me to speak out against friends, it hasn’t been any of them. It’s been me.

Morpheus.

No one has had a stronger Season on Insanity than me. I have held the World Heavyweight Championship for the last 15 months, and I have kept it around my waist despite defending it a record number of times. I have taken on all comers, and left them all in my wake as I passed them by. And now, I face my biggest challenge yet, with five other men gunning for my title. Well, boys, you think you’re going to take what’s mine? I think I have something to say about that.

Bring it on.

Know this, gentlemen. You will be in for the fight of your lives.

Friend or foe, it will be no matter. Once we are locked inside the DeathCube, there can be only one result, and that is me walking out with my hand raised in victory. Then, the Best on Insanity will go on to face the Best on Pyromania. As it should be.

Tromboner Man: Damn straight.

Morpheus turns and takes the World Heavyweight Championship from the windowsill and drapes it over his shoulder, then turns back to the camera.

Morpheus: Big B. Brown. We’ve fought at each other’s side, and we’ve faced off against one another. I used to be a big fan of your show, but I have had to stop watching it recently. After a while, it just fades into white noise and starts sounding eerily reminiscent of Neil Diamond trying to eat a spoonful of Peanut Butter while having a stroke.

Still, entertainment preferences aside, you have proven yourself to be a worthy opponent, despite losing your head and firing the only person on your show who was bringing in any real ratings. But it takes more than just being worthy this time.

When you step inside the DeathCube, this encounter will end just like the other two times you have challenged me for my title:

With you on your back, and my hand raised high.

Krimson Mask. The Man. The Myth. The Legend. You and I have never crossed paths in an LPW ring before, and yet our names have been mentioned in the same sentence more times than I care to count. You are one of the most dominant forces ever to compete in LPW, and if it weren’t for your weakness for underage girls dressed as Fairy Tale characters, there might not have been a “one of” qualifier in that statement.

Regardless, you forged a trail of absolute destruction, and in the process set the record for the most World Heavyweight Championship defenses.

Then I broke it.

You have yourself admitted that we are fighting the same side of this war against the End, and yet your apparent dislike of The Awakened has led you to bring the fight to our doorstep. Your return has sparked quite the buzz, but I am afraid that, despite your aspirations of a second Title reign, I am going to have to play the role of Dream Killer this time. It will be our first meeting inside the DeathCube, Krimson Mask, and once it is all said and done, I promise you one thing.

You will see why Morpheus was the one who finally broke your record.

Azreal. You, out of all the people in this match are the one that I want to hit the least. Although, I am still sickened by the sight of you attempting to shove an entire cheeseburger through your dislocated jaw like a jungle snake.

Remind me never to dare you to do anything. Ever again.

Out of all the people I’ve come across in LPW, you’ve been the one most like family to me-

Voice: Like Family, you say?

The Shrouded Man Steps from the shadows and approaches Morpheus.

Morpheus: Not now, Brother. Please, not now.

Shrouded Man: Then when?

Morpheus: Soon. I promise.

Tromboner Man: Wait a minute! This is your brother, Morph?

Tromboner Man comes running in from off camera, hand extended in front of him.

Tromboner Man: Hi! I’m The Tromboner Man! Most of my friends call me TBM. You can call me Tromboner Man.

Morpheus: Ah, right. Teebs, this is my brother, Destiny.

Tromboner Man: Destiny! Hey, TBM thinks he met you before… Yes! He’s sure he has! The night he won the International Heavyweight Championship, people said Destiny was in TBM’s corner! It’s good to see you ag-

Destiny’s hood falls back as TBM approaches, and the torchlight illuminates his face. His long, black and gray hair falls down past his shoulders and his mouth is carved in a firm, humorless line, but his most striking feature is his eyes, which are sewn shut.

Tromboner Man: On second thought, TBM think he may not have met you after all. TBM is pretty sure he’d remember vomiting like he’s about to right now.

Morpheus: Guys, I really don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I’m kind of busy here.

Tromboner Man: Promo, right. We’ll just go off over here. So, Destiny. How do you see if your eyes are sewn up tight like that guy in the Alice In Chains video? Which video was that again? TBM thinks it was Rooster, right? Or maybe Epic? Wait, that wasn’t Alice In Chains…

Tromboner Man and Destiny walk off camera toward the dais as Morpheus shakes his head, then looks back to the camera to continue.

Morpheus: Where was I? Ah, yes. Another close friend.

Ultramarcus. I haven’t had the heart to say some of these things to you, but I think it’s time that you face some facts. There is little doubting that you have been on a roll of late, what with your semi-hostile takeover of the City of Toronto, which is undoubtedly one of the crown jewels of Canadian cities. However, taking over the crown jewel of Canadian cities is like winning the Gold Medal in the Special Olympics. And do you know what’s better than winning the Gold Medal in the Special Olympics?

Not being retarded.

You’ve done some impressive things to make it here, Marcus. You’ve beaten Krimson Mask. You’ve liked to tout the fact that you are the only person to have ever held the United States and the Western State Heritage Titles. That is no doubt an amazing accomplishment, being the only man to hold both second-tier titles in LPW. Allow me to be the first to say…

Welcome to the First Tier.

You’ve stated repeatedly that you will be the next World Heavyweight Champion, and quite honestly, you might very well be right. But not on this night, Marcus. Not on this night. You’ve shown yourself to be one of the greatest competitors on Insanity, Marcus, and you will no doubt have your day, but this is not it.

When we step into the DeathCube, you will be reminded exactly why you are student and I am the Master.

Last, and almost certainly close to least, we have Nigel Vanderbilt. The man who takes the THE out of PSYCHOTHERAPIST. I have to grudgingly admit that I respect you for your ability, but that’s it. I do not respect you as a man, and I certainly don’t like you. You get on my nerves, and your mouth never stops running. You keep trying to up the ante with your antics, and I’m pretty sure the only option you have left is molesting and murdering a school bus full of retarded children after hopping them up on heroin.

Or wait, you’ve already done that one, haven’t you…

You have proven over the last year that you can be as ruthless as they come, and that you are capable of standing toe to toe with the best. Which is exactly what you will be doing when you enter the DeathCube. At the end of that match, you’re going to wish you were back in that dark room nailing kittens to the wall, because unlike them…

I fight back.

Morpheus takes the World Heavyweight Championship off of his shoulder and holds it out in front of him.

Morpheus: This is what it is all about. The World Heavyweight Championship and the chance to compete for the Martinez Cup at Altered Reality Six.

Everyone has Dreams. Desires and Aspirations to become something greater than they already are. Without these Dreams, we would never strive to reach new heights, and always stagnate and remain where we have always been.

It is these very Dreams that are on the line.

At Ragnarok, six men enter the DeathCube to vie for this World Title and that opportunity.

Wait… Let me rephrase that.

Five men enter the DeathCube to challenge ME for MY World Heavyweight Championship. And in case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you just who the Hell I am.

I am the Dream Master. The Prince of Stories. The Nightmare King. I know all of your innermost desires, and the Shadows that haunt your darkest Dreams.

I am Morpheus: Master of the Dream Realm and LPW World Heavyweight Champion.

You, gentlemen… You are transient. I am forever. I supersede the Supernatural, and come Ragnarok, you will all come to know why I have held this title for so long.

In the DeathCube, the Dream Master is going to make his own Dreams come true for once. And in so doing…[/i]

Morpheus drapes the Title back over his shoulder and stares intensely into the camera.

Morpheus: I will become your worst Nightmare.

Sweet Dreams, gentlemen, and enjoy them while they last, because at Ragnarok…

I’m taking them back.

Morpheus turns away from the camera and walks back over toward TBM and Destiny.

Tromboner Man: Man In The Box! That’s the one!

Morpheus: I’d hate to interrupt, fellas, but I’ve just about wrapped this one up. Teebs and I have some serious prep work to do for our upcoming matches. Des, if you’ll excuse us.

Destiny: Of course, Dream. I’ll be in touch.

Morpheus: I’m sure you will be.

Tromboner Man: It was nice to meet you, Mr. In The Box!

Destiny turns away from the two Champions and walks behind the dais, disappearing into the shadows. Morpheus turns to Tromboner Man and smiles.

Morpheus: Right, we've got some work to do. Shall we meet up outside?

Tromboner Man: You’re in for it now, Morph. TBM has just the thing…

Tromboner Man goes running out of the Audience Hall, as Morpheus smiles after him. Morpheus drapes the World Title over the back of one of the chairs and takes off his coat, removing Oneiro from its pocket, setting both on the table near the window.

Morpheus: Alright, now you be good, little fella. I’ll be back real soon, ok?

Morpheus walks over to the corner near the window and stares at a massive drapery hanging there.  After a moment, he steps forward and pulls it away, sending it tumbling to the floor. Behind it is a large, elegant portrait of a beautiful woman with pale skin, long black curls and violet eyes. Morpheus stares at the portrait in silence for a moment before finally reaching up, kissing his first two fingers on his left hand, and placing the kiss on the lips of the woman in the portrait.

Morpheus: Happy Birthday, Ariella. I miss you, my love...

Morpheus pulls his gaze away from the portrait and begins to exit the Hall. As he passes by the window, the ground shakes again, and a giant robot appears outside the window. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the robot is actually the original MegaZord from the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers. The MegaZord turns to look into the window and waves at Morpheus, before gesturing for him to come outside.

Morpheus: This is gonna be a long night…

Morpheus smiles and walks out of the Audience Hall, muttering as he goes.

Morpheus: I’m going Voltron on your ass…

As Morpheus exits the Audience Hall, the MegaZord walks off, disappearing from view. After a moment of silence, a woman in a stunning white wedding dress with long black curls steps out from the shadows and watches as the door closes behind him. She sees the cat and picks it up, holding it tight to her chest. She starts to pet it as a single tear pours forth from each of her two perfect violet eyes...

OOC: So I've had 4 exams in the last week and a couple more to come. Sadly, LPW just hasn't been a priority. I intend to add to this tonight, but for now...



Dear Cyborg Lincoln,


As I'm sure you can imagine, this recent news has been surprising to say the least. However, I am writing to warn you that there will be no holding back on my part at Ragnarok. I've made it clear from day one that nothing is more important than my professional wrestling career. I'm sorry it has to be you, of all "people", that I destroy, but I refuse to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. A multitude of this company's all-time greats have held the LPW Hardcore Championship and I fully intend to etch my name into its lineage - at all costs.


I admit that I am somewhat concerned at Master Chief Phillips' role in this match as special referee. His obvious bias puts me at a considerable disadvantage, which in turn damages the credibility of both championships at stake, as well as LPW as a whole. Bearing in mind our current state of relations, it would be greatly appreciated if you could resist from using weapons, making this a fair and valid contest. As an honourable champion, I'm sure you would rather not exploit my imposed handicap. Such a tainted victory would be unfitting of your stature.


Lastly, dspite what  I intend to do at Ragnarok, I truly hope we can stay in contact.


Storme

Fog.

That's the first thing that strikes Morpheus as he enters the Dreamscape of the man known as Daientine. The grey mist clings to itself, curling slowly, pouring in from behind the Master of the Dream Realm. The ground beneath his feet slopes downwards at a steep angle, the fog around his ankles rolling down the gradient and wrapping around his flesh. Strangely, as he looks up, though the sky is dark the grey feels warm.

Laughter.

That's the second thing. The laughter of children, to be exact. A far cry from the distorted, heated fog that surrounds Morpheus, the joyous yelling and screaming of two young boys, their shadows dancing in the ether. Curious despite himself, he wanders forward, the fog filling the space his body leaves behind.

As he moves the grey thins, the figures of the two children becoming more distinct and their raucous yelps growing ever louder. The thinning fog reveals the sky a little more with each step; blue stars above shine in a thick cluster above their heads. Morpheus presses on, wondering what he will find at the exit of this fog. The faint sounds of water now come to him.

Child #1: Who are you?

Morpheus looks down, surprised. Whilst inspecting his surroundings, one of the children has run up to him, looking up at him through the mask of Daientine. Morpheus cocks an eyebrow in amused shock at the spry-looking youth.

Morpheus: My name is Morpheus. I wasn't expecting you to be here.

Child #1: Why not? I live here.

The child, apparently comfortable with the area, sits down on the charred grass underfoot, the green stains smearing his denim jeans. After a moment, the second boy comes running in. He is slightly chubbier than his play-mate, with long blond hair in stark contrast to the other boy's wiry black. He pauses, catching his breath for a second before looking at the other.

Child #2: Why'd you run off?

Child #1: I heard something, bro.

He speaks to his brother without looking back at him, eyes still fixated on Morpheus.

Child #1: So why are you here? And why do you wear more make-up than daddy?

Morpheus looks down at the child with a smirk on his face.

Morpheus: I don't think that's any of your business, child.

If the child's face was visible, it would be sneering.

Child #1: You're stupid.

Child #2: Matt!

At this, the masked child turns around, cocking his head to the side in an immature parody of his larger counterpart.

Child #1: What?

Child #2: Don't you think that daddy would like to see the man?

The child on the ground stands up and runs off into the thinning fog.

Child #1: Keep up then!

The larger child watches him go and shakes his head.

Child #2: Sorry about my brother. He's not very good with people.

Morpheus: That's alright.

They set off at a more leisurely pace, following the masked child's direction.

Child #2: So who are you then?

Morpheus eyes the child carefully.

Morpheus: I am Morpheus. I suppose that you could say that I work with your father.

Child #2: You work with daddy? Are you one of his inmate friends?

Morpheus: I guess you could say that.

Child #2: Is daddy scary?

Morpheus: ...I wouldn't say so.

Child #2: He scares me.

Morpheus: And why is that?

Child #2: He used to be nice.

Morpheus: I don't think that your dad is necessarily a bad person now.

Child #2: But he is!

The child pauses where he walks, looking up at Morpheus with rising annoyance in his eyes.

Child #2: Daddy was a nice man, a good man. Then things changed.

The lines on either side of Morpheus' mouth tighten. He drops down on his haunches to speak with the boy face-to-face.

Morpheus: Whatever your daddy might be, or will become, I am sure – in fact, I know – that he will still love you.

Child #2: ...you think?

Morpheus: Absolutely. Now let's catch up to your brother.

They press on through the dimming fog, to a small lake, where the masked boy sits.

Child #1: You took your time.

Morpheus: It doesn't matter. Where's your father?

He approaches the child by the lake.

Child #1: He's behind you.

Turning, Morpheus finds himself standing in front of the man under Daientine's mask.

Man: Evening, Morph.

Morpheus: You're the child I was speaking to?

Man: In a sense.

Morpheus: And the other child?

He turns back, but the child has gone, leaving the mask at the side of the lake. Faint ripples cut a path across the lake, coming to a stop in the centre.

Man: Dead from the beginning.

Morpheus: You have a lot of symbolism in your dreams, don't you?

The man smiles.

Man: Only if you want to look for it.

Morpheus: That's good. I like that.

Man: How can you be sure you haven't used it before?

Morpheus frowns.

Morpheus: Come again?

The man sighs, looking across the lake.

Man: It doesn't matter. All it means is that the breakdown is getting closer. Tell me this. How do I know you're here?

Morpheus: Because this is your Dream.

Man: Is it, though? Or is this just fiction? I could just be imagining this in my head, Morph. My mind is fractured to shit from... from...

He reaches down, snatching up the mask.

Man: This.

Morpheus: Let me tell you this. Regardless of whether or not you're Dreaming or if I'm simply a figment of your imagination, I understand. I'm not here to fight you.

Man: ...then I'm not interested.

He turns around to face the thin air.

Man: Regardless of whatever... I am in control of my own destiny. With or without this mask, I am who I am and what I am. Success and failure are just words. I could walk out of Ragnarok as the captain for my team or I could not. It's irrelevant one way or the other. I'm still going to be me.

He flips the mask up onto his face and grins.

Man: I am here.