Through the partially opened window, the sounds of the night air crept into the vehicle. The whirring of insects, coupled with the occasional hoot of some unseen owl, slid past their ears as they waited. Two dark profiles within a dark vehicle. It was partially concealed, both by the night's embrace and the bushes that surrounded it. One profile, considerably larger than the other, held something up near his face.

"Anything?" Quinn asked, growing ever more annoyed with each passing moment.

The aroma of flowers, blooming in the late Spring temperatures, was temporarily masked as he lit a cigarette. He exhaled heavily and reached down, rubbing his leg. They had been sitting in the car for several hours and it had started to go numb.

"Not yet," came Lupelli's reply. He raised the night-time binoculars to his eyes again and surveyed the area around them. So far, everything had gone according to plan.

Quinn took another drag and glanced behind him. In the back seat, barely visible in the meager light, sat a large duffel bag. The muzzle of an extra long rifle poked out obscenely. His head shook as he turned back.

"I don't like it. It's been too long."

Lupelli nodded grimly. He'd had a hunch and he rarely was wrong. There was something not quite right with this weapons deal. The tiniest movement caught his eye. A shadow twitched ever so slightly in a tiny stand of trees. The park was the perfect place to meet for these kind of transactions. Unfortunately, it was also the perfect place to set up an ambush. Lupelli shifted the binoculars slightly and adjusted the focus. The profile of a figure came into view, crouched down.

"What is it?" Quinn quickly crushed out his cigarette, knowing that the glowing tip would give them away.

"It's Garcia, but something's wrong." Lupelli grimaced and focused the binoculars as far as he could. He needed a sign, anything that would answer the burning question in his gut. A second later, he got it.

"Gotcha."

It was nothing more than a split-second, but it was enough. Lupelli saw Garcia glance quickly to his left before staring straight ahead again. Lupelli swung his binoculars over and finally made out another shape, this one off the ground.

"Care to fill me in?" Quinn asked, his annoyance growing again.

"Sniper. Garcia's planning on taking the weapons for free."

"Plan B then," Quinn said, shrugging.

Lupelli nodded, setting the binoculars on the seat and grabbing a black ski mask. "Plan B."

Garcia shifted again, the cramp in his leg growing worse. He'd been crouched there for at least an hour, waiting for Lupelli and Quinn to show up. He could see his man in the tree nearby, waiting to take the shot. This would be too easy. Finally, he noticed a pair of headlights as a car began to drift toward him, riding on one of the few paths in the park.

"Showtime," he said, standing up.

He waved and the car responded with a temporary flash of its brights. A second later, the car rolled up. Garcia stepped over to the driver's side as the window slid down.

"Where's Tony?" he said suspiciously.

"Couldn't make it. We gonna do this or what?" Quinn jerked his thumb to the back and Garcia saw the duffel.

"Yeah man."

"So, ye got the money?" Quinn opened the door a crack, but stayed where he was. He kept his eyes glued to Garcia's hands as they began to nervously move.

"Yeah, it's right over here." He motioned to a briefcase laying on the ground, illuminated by the car's headlights.

Quinn stared at him a moment. "Well? Ye gonna open it?"

Garcia grinned and turned around, grabbing the briefcase. A spring wind kicked up, blowing his hair over his shoulders. He opened the briefcase and reached in, removing the pistol. With a grin, he turned, pointing it at Quinn. His grin faltered somewhat when he saw the pistol that Quinn also had pointing at him.

"Do ye take me fer a fuckin idiot?"

Garcia grinned again as he heard a rustle from the stand of trees to his left. Footsteps approached and he saw Quinn's gaze drift slightly to the approaching figure. Garcia glanced over, making out a profile approaching. His gaze turned back to Quinn.

"I'd like you to meet my partner."

A second later, Garcia's partner flew in front of him and landed with a thud on the ground at Garcia's feet. Garcia glanced down in horror as he saw the ghastly image of eyes, locked in a final state of terror, and a tongue sticking from between blue lips.

"I'd like you to meet my partner," Quinn said.

Lupelli stepped into view, lowering the piano wire he had used to kill the sniper.

"L-look," Garcia began. He stepped back.

"I don't take kindly to being ambushed Garcia." Lupelli reached behind him and removed the silver baretta that he had tucked into his pants...

Several moments later, Quinn and Lupelli drove out of the park. Quinn glanced at the duffel bag and back at Lupelli.

"That could've gone better I'm thinkin."

"Doesn't matter. We've got plenty more deals lined up. Right now, we've got a plane to catch."

"So ye're still goin back then?"

Lupelli tightened his grip on the wheel as the black sedan slid into the night. On the seat beside him sat a match listing.

"Yes," Lupelli said, "I'm going back."

THE MYSTERY OF THE VIDEOTAPE (REVEALED)


I was high out of my mind on codeine as I left the bar, note with the tapeholder's address in hand. The name on the piece of paper struck a familiar chord with me. Not me personally, but with my past. Shamus O'Reilly was the name, and he was the former owner of Croaker's Pub, before the M.U.P.P.E.T.S ran him out of business, and, according to popular theory, back to Ireland. According to the paper JE gave me, he lived in the seedier part of the shipping district, probably eeking by on a meager existence. After all, when the M.U.P.P.E.T.S run you out of business, you're pretty much blackballed from making a decent coin anywhere in the near vicinity.

I arrived at the ramshackle apartment building about twenty-five minutes later (God damn city traffic). Three dope dealers occupied one corner of the block, while on the other, a homeless wino was passed out against the lightpost, bottle in hand. Typical scenery; I tucked my handgun into my waistband....just in case.

I entered (staggered?) into the building, my vision blurring to a light fog due to the copious amounts of codeine in my system. I sure felt like a million bucks, though. When I reached the door, I knocked three times, loud and steady. No fuckin' answer. For all I knew, the bastard was out somewhere, or passed out somewhere, take your pick. For shits and giggles, and I jerked at the door handle, and holy shit, the door slid open. Such loose security in this part of town didn't make too much sense, so I admittedly suspected foul play was afoot. I drew my gun and walked into the apartment. There, at the kitchen table, face down in a plate of shepherd's pie, was Shamus O'Reilly. Brain matter and blood covered the table and the surrounding walls, and a note next to his plate said it all:

"Too much information isn't good for you."

Great. Another piece of the puzzle gone. I'd have to let JE know at Endgame. Haha...the thought that I still had a match to contend with amidst all this struck me as funny. I strolled downstairs, got in my car, and drove about three blocks before I stopped and passed out. I needed some sleep. I had a match in a couple days.

A week before Endgame
A soaked towel hits the wall above a hamper, and shimmys down into a grave of soiled sweat and all that prepares these men for the long battles they encounter. The loud thundering screams of a legendary metal band fades off into the distance and a locker shuts enclosing the in house stereo used to encourage these men to push their bodies to the limits. The click of a lock to finalize the transaction, and PD looks down at his keys and cell phone. A vibrant green glow comes off of the face of the phone, and a persistant chirp charges a synaptic response to pick up the phone and check just who's been calling while he was in preparations.

He catches his breath for a moment, and flips the phone open scrolling thru the numbers. A late night work-out was almost second nature to him in this day in age. He needed every bit out of his body, and training had become as much if not more important than anything else in his daily routine. But just who would call him at this hour. Normal people would be asleep by now, or at least finishing up at the bar during a bender.

Infinity
Infinity 2, thats Hardy.
...

PD stops for a second, and gazes around the empty corners of the weight room. His mind is cluttered by recent developments in the fed, and his personal life. His life which has taken a sudden turn, and now leaves him in an unfamiliar territory. Sure this game, this passion for his job has remained, but as with everything in life, things change. Now this.

PD doesn't ask the obvious question of why. Why now? Why him?

He presses the call button, and flips it to speaker, and a familiar voice answers.

"Yo"

PD: When?

"I'll be in Austin tomorrow."

PD: Same shit?

"Just a different day man. You know where to find me."

PD: Alright. Alot has changed.

"You aren't the only one."

The following day is a blur, nothing much of circumstance occurs, but the superstars of ECF/411 merger are arriving in droves in the city of Austin. PD enters that same weightroom from the previous evening. But is suprised to hear music already being blared at near deafening levels. He takes a quick scan of his surroundings, and places his cell phone and keys down upon seeing motion in the far corner. A familiar tattoo covers this mans back, and PD is unsure as whether or not to approach him at this point. Too many things run thru his head to form a coherent thought, and it was so much easier in the majestic settings of this mans home.

PD decides to make announcement of his presence, not fearful of this man, just the memory of what happened the last time someone startled him in a weightroom, and coma and subsequent brain damage that former ECF superstar has yet to recover from. He slowly turns down the stereo to a dull roar, and sounds of a heavy bag being stricken down upon fill his audible senses.

As sweat drips from this man in the distance, PD stands watching him for a moment. Unwaivering and relentless. Some things never change. One final thwack, and the bag falls off his harness as beans spill slowly onto the floor from the point of impact. A glisten of light shimmers into PD's eye as this man turns around, seemingly finally noticing that the stereo had been turned down.

A single head nod is given, as this man walks slowly up towards PD while removing the padded gloves he wears during long sessions with the bag.

"I guess they just don't make those things like they used to."

The man grabs a towel off of the table by the door, and whipes off his face as he stands in front of PD.

PD- I never thought I'd see that again.

"Yeah? You aren't gonna hug me are ya?"

The thought hadn't even crossed PD's mind, as almost the complete opposite was what he had been preparing himself for the entire time he watched this man go toe to toe with the bag. They never quite saw eye to eye on things, and always ended up on different sides of fence when it mattered. But some time had passed, and it was still unclear why he was standing face to face with someone who he thought would never return.

PD- Hardly, I was actually considering what tactic would be most effective at making you my bitch as you stand before me, obviously pumped with a lethal dose of human growth hormone. Armbar? Rear naked choke?

And it was at that moment, that both men saw it. Something so obvious that neither had ever even thought about it. 2 men, cut from the same mold, decisions of the path that made them who they are today not withstanding.

"You'd have better luck with a cobra clutch, or some shit you saw on a cartoon."

PD acknowledges the quip, but moves on as pressing matters concern him, and his time is valuable.

PD- You back? Or just looking to catch up?

"I never should have left."

The man glances down, then his eyes meet PD's again, and that smirk is revealed.

PD- I'll see you around, Mathis.

Knowing that small talk is for pussies, and rarely ever gets anything accomplished. The two men part ways, to let the encounter sink in, PD moves in on the weightroom, and Mathis exits to the Hummer Truck.

As PD turns back up the stereo before his session, he stops momentarily and shakes his head.

"Things just got interesting."

((OOC- this is the end of this show's feud. I was a little late in posting it, but I wanted to finish things off. I hate leaving things left wide open-OOC))


The car stopped outside of the warehouse. Dante's colorless eyes scanned the building for a second, just to confirm what his mind was already telling him. Selenia was inside. Dante could feel it, flowing through his veins like fire. She was close and she was awake.

"Selenia?" His mind raced through the building, slipping through walls until it finally entered the warming embrace of her thoughts.

"Dante, I'm inside."

Dante turned to look at Freya, who stood bravely by his side, her eyes steady and unafraid. He felt an admiration for her bravery along with a pang of guilt for her getting involved in this. She turned her gaze toward him, aware of his stare.

"You don't have to do--" he began, but she cut him off.

"Are you ready?" she said, her face calm.

Dante smiled and nodded. The two tag team partners moved forward to the building.

Elsewhere...

Quinn stumbled along the streets, his eyes bloodshot. He had checked Lupelli's hotel room. The only other place that he could think of to check was the safe house that he and Lupelli had in case of emergencies. Quinn shook his head as he walked, fearing the worst for his friend. If he had taken refuge at the safe house, at least he would have ample weapons to pick from. It was their storage place for their arms deals in the area. Quinn lost track of the moment as his drunk eyes continued to remain fixed on the ground, inches in front of his feet. He didn't notice the shadowed profile beginning to walk after him...

Elsewhere...

Nabe and Rus shut off the television and looked at each other. Nabe slid the phone back into the cradle and looked over at Rus. "I thought you unplugged the phone?"

"I thought you did," came his bizarre partner's reply. He looked at nabe, his head slightly cocked sideways. "Let me guess who that was?"

Nabe nodded. "We have to go, this 'whoever he is' says that Lupelli's in trouble."

Rus sighed deeply and looked longingly at the television remote before standing up. "Fine, fine. Let's go help our messed up partner."

Elsewhere...

The shadowed man tapped his finger on the telephone a minute, smiling to himself. He looked in the corner of the room at Valentina, tied securely to a chair. His jeweled ring reflected brightly in the meager light as his hands folded. "It looks like your boyfriend lied my dear. We'll have to do something about that."

The man slid a hand over to a red button on his desk and pressed it calmly. A minute later, a gigantic man, wearing a black and white suit and shades, stepped into the room. The shadowed man motioned idly with his hand toward Valentina and the figure began to move toward her.

The phone on his desk suddenly rang and the man lifted a hand. "Wait." He lifted the receiver, "Yes?"

The Safehouse...

He expected it to be locked, or at least to create a loud squeal of rusted hinges, but dante found the front door unlocked. It slid open easily, making no sound at all. As he thought, the lights were not on. He heard Freya mutter angrily as her foot stubbed a chair. There was a tiny scraping sound and they both paused. Dante's eyes were much more attuned to seeing in the dark than Freya's, but even he found it difficult to see in here. He turned to his green-eyed ally. "Stick close to me. I can see well enough to get us around."

Freya nodded and followed behind the dark silhouette of Dante as he proceeded through the warehouse. They walked in a little further and noticed several crates stacked up. Each was labelled "Medical Supplies." Dante smiled and shook his head. "Medical supplies," he whispered to Freya, making quote motions with his fingers. She gave a tight smile in return and nodded, keeping Lupelli's ability with weapons close in mind.

As if in response to her thoughts, both of them stopped as the audible clicking of a gun being cocked back echoed out behind them.

"Well," Lupelli said from behind them.

Dante and Freya turned and saw Lupelli standing with Selenia clutched in one massive arm, a gun pointed at her temple. Dante locked eyes with his love and started forward. Lupelli shook his head, freezing him in his tracks.

"If you want her dead, take one more step Romeo."

Colorless eyes flashed in the dark. "If you hurt her in any way, I will personally see to it that you spend the next five thousand years in perfect blackness wondering just what it is that has been eating you from the feet up." Even Freya was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, but she remained resolved to help Dante get Selenia back. Dante hated his anger, but he was not going to relent, not where his love was concerned. Lupelli had gotten her invovled. What happened next would be up to him.

Lupelli grinned, his eyes the cold eyes of a ruthless killer. "There was a time not too long ago that I would even have felt bad about killing a woman. I actually could have left her in that blast. I was supposed to leave her in that blast."

Dante shook his head, keeping his eyes locked with Lupelli's. He inched ever-so-slightly forward, his feet sliding a couple of centimeters forward. "I don't care about your problems, Lupelli. I gave you a chance. I would have helped you. You chose to listen to some voice on the phone. How do you know they even have Valentina?"

"I HEARD HER!" Lupelli roared with violent ferocity at the mention of her name. His grip on Selenia's hair tightened and he wrenched her head back more, exposing her throat.

"I can't pity you Lupelli. You are doing the same thing that man with the ring is. Holding an innocent woman hostage."

Lupelli paused, his grip loosening slightly on Selenia's hair. "Ring?"

It was the opening that Selenia needed to wrench free from the Sicilian's grasp. She flew forward to where Dante was and Dante flew forward to where she had been. He leaped at Lupelli in a frenzy, his rage sending him flying through the air with extra force. He collided with the massive man and knocked the gun from his hand. Lupelli wrapped a massive hand around the albino's throat and heaved him away, turning to the floor to get his gun.

"No!" Freya shouted, kicking it away.

Lupelli's arm flew through the air, backhanding her to the floor. Dante leaped on his back and wrapped his fists around the big man's throat, his thumbs pressing into Lupelli's arteries. "Time to take a nap, Anthony," Dante said, applying extra pressure.

Lupelli felt his vision start to blur as he stumbled forward to the center of the room. He turned his back, and Dante's back by default, to a "Medical Supplies" crate and shoved himself backward. Wood splintered as the two men plunged through the wooden box. Dante's grip slipped free and Lupelli turned, his hands grasping the pistol that he had dropped. He turned and found Dante standing several feet away, pointing one of the medical supplies, an AK-47, at his chest.

A silence fell.

"We're leaving Lupelli."

"Not with her you aren't," Lupelli said, jerking a thumb in Selenia's direction. "If she goes free, Val dies and I can't live with that." He paused before adding, "Neither can you."

"Did we come at a bad time?"

Both men glanced to the side quickly and saw Nabe and Rus standing there, looking at the tense room. Rus grinned and looked at Freya, waving. Nabe elbowed him and they both turned to Dante.

"I think we have a standoff."

Dante looked at Freya and Selenia and then back at Lupelli, who still had the pistol levelled square with his chest. Finally, he nodded, lowering the rifle. Lupelli kept the pistol trained squarely at Dante's chest.

"You going to shoot me, Lupelli?"

"I haven't decided yet. Tell me about the ring."

"Your word first. You'll leave us alone until the match. No explosions, no kidnappings, no nothing." Dante's gaze told Lupelli that he did not fear death.

Finally, Lupelli nodded, lowering the pistol slightly, but keeping it tightly gripped in his hand. "Deal. Tell me about the ring."

"Red ruby, surrounded by black diamonds. I don't know if that'll help you or not, but that's what this man wore."

Lupelli stood in thoughtful silence for a moment.

Nabe looked around, confused, "What the heck did we miss? You guys were going to kill each other over a ring?"

"Not quite," Freya added, turning toward the door, her arm wrapped around the still-woozy Selenia. Dante lowered the rifle to the floor, where it was placed with the shattered remains of the crate and the multiple weapons now strewn about.

"Dante," Lupelli said.

Dante turned, his eyes locking with the Sicilian's. "I hope you find her, Anthony." He turned again and moved to the door.

"Dante," Lupelli said again. Dante turned. "I won't forget this."

Dante smiled until he noticed that Lupelli was not smiling back. "I won't forget that you held a gun on me. I'll keep my part of the deal, but after our match-- watch out." Dante turned away again as Lupelli added in a condescending tone, "--Champ." Dante paused a second before continuing out after his love and his partner.

Nabe grinned and elbowed Rus. "Looks like we saved the day!"

"Oh yes, I'd say things went really smoothly."

"Well no one died anyway."

"Touche."

"I'll see you two later. I've got some thinking to do," Lupelli said, tucking his pistol into his pants. With that, he vanished into the shadows.

"That man needs to switch to decaf."

"Or Prozac."

"Or both."

Later...

Lupelli sat in his room, his arms folded. The ring had sounded familiar. When Dante had described it, it had struck a tone with his memory, but he couldn't place it. He had seen it before. "Where have I see that ring before?" he muttered to himself. A second later, a small object slapped down onto the table in front of him with a thud.

"That ring?" Lupelli looked up at the grinning face of Quinn. He then looked down at the ring with a large red ruby, surrounded by black diamonds. It was still on a finger.

"Quinn!" Lupelli said, standing quickly. Quinn brushed him off and sat down heavily in a chair opposite his friend.

"I've had quite a day," Quinn said, lighting a cigarette.

Lupelli lifted the finger and studied the ring. "Who was it, Quinn?"

"Valdarez." Quinn said, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

Lupelli cursed under his breath. Valdarez, the drug kingpin of the Southeast United States. He had made a serious enemy of him on his last mission. Lupelli let the finger drop to the table with satisfaction. A thought flew into his mind suddenly, "Did you see Valentina?"

Quinn continued smoking, jerking a thumb back at the door. Lupelli looked up and saw an angel in the doorway.

"Hello Tony," she said.

Lupelli leaped up and raced to her, wrapping her in his arms. "Get a room y fuckin people," Quinn said, doing his best to hide a smile...























But wait, how did that happen? Here's what happened...

Quinn stumbled along the streets, his eyes bloodshot. He had checked Lupelli's hotel room. The only other place that he could think of to check was the safe house that he and Lupelli had in case of emergencies. Quinn shook his head as he walked, fearing the worst for his friend. If he had taken refuge at the safe house, at least he would have ample weapons to pick from. It was their storage place for their arms deals in the area. Quinn lost track of the moment as his drunk eyes continued to remain fixed on the ground, inches in front of his feet. He didn't notice the shadowed profile beginning to walk after him...

"Quinn," the voice said, sliding from the darkness like a snake sliding through the tall blades of grass in a field.

Quinn turned and saw a shadowed figure standing nearby. "Who th' fuck are ye?" he asked, forcing his eyes to focus.

"I represent a concerned party. One who wishes to correct certain errors." The shadow remained motionless.

Quinn stared at it a moment. "Why th' fuck should I believe ye? I cannae even see ye fer fuck's sake."

"I can't make you believe me, Quinn, but I can give you the location where Valentina is being held captive as well as who has her."

Quinn stopped short, his breath sliding from his lungs slowly as he processed the information. "All right. Talk."

The shadowed man tapped his finger on the telephone a minute, smiling to himself. He looked in the corner of the room at Valentina, tied securely to a chair. His jeweled ring reflected brightly in the meager light as his hands folded. "It looks like your boyfriend lied my dear. We'll have to do something about that."

The man slid a hand over to a red button on his desk and pressed it calmly. A minute later, a gigantic man, wearing a black and white suit and shades, stepped into the room. The shadowed man motioned idly with his hand toward Valentina and the figure began to move toward her.

The phone on his desk suddenly rang and the man lifted a hand. "Wait." He lifted the receiver, "Yes?"


"Mr. Valdarez," the raspy voice said.

Valdarez tapped his finger on the desk, his ring tapping it steadily. "Y-Yes?"

"You dissappoint me, Mr. Valdarez. I provided you with information on Lupelli and those involved in his match and you used it for some petty vendetta. I expected you to stick to my plan."

Valdarez swallowed and motioned to the large man to leave the room. Once the door was securely shut, Valdarez began talking. "Look, I know things didn't go as you planned--"

"They went nothing like I planned. You were supposed to attain Lupelli's services by blackmailing him with information about Valentina's whereabouts, not by taking her captive yourself and threatening to kill her."

"Look--"

"And you certainly were not to force Lupelli to attempt to kill Dante or Selenia. I told you that Dante is off limits."

"I know, I--"

"You failed to live up to your end of things, Mr. Valdarez. I do not tolerate failure."

"But, Dante knew things about me, he'll find you too. I had to get rid of him, for you--"

"Mr. Valdarez. Rest assured that even someone of Dante's-- heritage-- is well within the confines of my control. He can no more peer into my mind than his father could. Your excuses are wasted on me, as are your services."

"Please, let me explain--" Valdarez began, but there was no answer...

Later, after all events had taken place...

"So who was it that tipped you off?" Lupelli asked, his arms still wrapped around Valentina. For her part, she did not seem to mind one bit.

Quinn shrugged. "I dunno, mate. All I know is that there's still someone out there who knows more about you than they should."

Lupelli nodded grimly, his face set. Things were about to pick up...

Gabe Sapolski and Cary Silkin both sit inside the living room of Gabe's house the two ROH heads are watching the Endgame PPV and more specifically DeSean's match against Acolyte. The two of them watch closely as AJ Styles appears on screen and attacks DeSean causing Acolyte to pin him for the three. As Acolyte celebrates the win, Gabe uses his remote to turn of the television, he hits the eject button and pulls out the tape. He looks at it and throws on the coffee table in front of them, with his right hand he rubs the temple of his forehead.

Gabe: I think we made a mistake.

Cary: What do you mean?

Gabe: I think we made a mistake

Cary: How so?

Gabe: Jim, we made a mistake putting him in charge of all of this, I don't even know what to call it. We're not making money off this we still don't have our belts; AJ interfering just makes things worse.

Cary: Look Cornette reassured over the phone that he did not put AJ up to that, he was as shocked as we were.

Gabe: Yea right and you believe that.

Cary: You and me both know that Cornette's word is his balls, it's who he is. He wouldn't lie.

Gabe: Even so, this "war" isn't helping us, DeSean still has our belt and he's going to retaliate, he's just going to ruin another one of our shows. Don't forget that Friction will be in Miami, Florida. It won't be hard to go to Universal Studios and ruin a TNA taping.

Cary: I'm sure TNA isn't worried about that, their direct rivals to 411/ECF. They've probably warned DeSean about showing up there and giving TNA some extra publicity.

Gabe: Maybe you're right but does it matter? Does it really matter? DeSean is going to retaliate and we're going to retaliate back we have no choice but to. He has our belt and we want it back, the thing is it started out so small. First the trash talking back and forth, everything was professional but now it's escalating. The unwritten rules are being broken now, it's getting personal and it's nothing that you or me can do about it. We can't turn back not until there's a winner.

As Gabe describes what will happen to Cary, we go to AJ Styles who's walking to his car.

Cary: Don't you think you're worrying too much?

Gabe: I'm not worrying just being realistic. DeSean has too much pride we both know that, it's one of the reasons why we signed him. He's not going to take this lying down.

We go back to AJ who's now driving in his car, he turns on the radio and starts to vibe to the music as POD plays, AJ turns into a parking lot. He walks out and enters a small conveience store.

Cary: So what are you saying? That we just make a new belt?

Gabe: No not at all I'm just saying whatever we do later, we have to think about the consequences. Now either two things will happen, Jim Cornette gets attacked or AJ gets attacked. I'm not sure what will happen or how it will happen.

We see AJ walking out of the store with bags in his hand, as he heads back to his car, two arms grab him and force him onto the side of the building away from anyone's view. As AJ turns around, he's punched in the face. As he looks up he sees DeSean's face and he's not alone.

DeSean: You wanna poke your nose in my match in OUR fed?

Still dazed AJ makes out the figures, one is Stallion and another one is Quincy "The Gangsta" Anderson, there's another figure but he can't tell exactly who it is. Tony and Stallion hold up AJ making him a human punching bag for DeSean. He takes a big swing and hit Styles in the gut. Who let's off a huge groan then he starts to cough.

Gabe: We just put one of our wrestlers in danger I know it.



DeSean: You son of a bitch, keep him up!

Tony and Quincy continue to hold AJ up, he takes another swing and connects into AJ's nose breaking it in the process. Styles falls backwards and the four of them start to stomp and kick at AJ who tries to cover up but it's to no avail. DeSean grabs his Singapore Cane that was lying on a nearby wall and just whips AJ with it. Tony and Quincy pick up AJ and push him into DeSean almost like a weak Irish whip, when AJ approaches DeSean, the self proclaimed future of wrestling hit him in the head with one last Singapore cane shot flooring AJ.

DeSean: Phenomenal my ass, let's go guys.

The four of them left Styles all alone in the alley, bloody and broken. AJ struggles to get up as he reaches for his cell phone trying to call for help.




Gabe pulled out a cigarette and lit it, he put it in his mouth and took a puff. He blew the smoke out of his nose, the phone started to ring. Gabe closed his eyes and just concentrated on his cigarette, Cary stood up and walked over to the phone.

Cary: You know those could kill you.

Cary answered the phone, Gabe could hear a voice on the other end a voice of concern, he could tell from the tone of Cary's voice that it wasn't good. It was the same type of voice he used when he heard about Rob Feinstein trying to pick up little boys.

Gabe: What is it?

Cary: I just got off the phone from a TNA rep, apparently AJ Styles was seriously attacked, he's in stable condition but he's injured a couple of broken ribs, a broken nose. He's going to need stitches.

Gabe rubbed the temple of his forehead and took one last puff of his cigarette before rubbing it out.

Gabe: So, it's finally happening....

To be continued

He stared at the thin plastic for a while. After about a minute, his own neck started to hurt. But it was nothing compared to what his patient felt. He returned to a normal posture, turned around, and faced his patient.

Rob was giving him a cold stare, for sure. If you looked deep enough, you could see pain. But you could also see desire, too.

Or maybe he was pissed about the white plastic neck collar he was wearing.

Doc: Rob, how old are you now?

RDV: THIRTY FOUR!!!

Doc: I can hear you fine, Rob, you don't have to yell.

RDV: WELL EXCUSE ME, I JUST FEEL LIKE I'M IN A DAMN CANYON, AND I WANT TO BE SURE YOU CAN HEAR ME.

The Doc gave him a smirk and walked closer to Rob. He hovered over him and held the X-Ray up, into the light, at an angle that wasn't too severe for Rob's pain. He then pointed at the center of it. A couple of small cracks in his neck bones. It wasn't the fractures that worried Rob, more the shooting fire down his spine.

Doc: See these? Hairline fractures in your neck. Looks like you've had these for a while.

RDV: Well, you can only take so many chair shots to the head and neck before this happens.

Doc: Well, what has occ...wait, I'm the one who told you that!

RDV: Yeah, and I'm the one that didn't care.

The Doc shook his head while looking down at the X-Ray. He turned his back on Rob, to look at his file again. He took off his glasses and stroked his temples, before whipping back around to face Rob.

Doc: Rob, I know you think I hate what you do. I don't. I hate what it does to you, but it's your life, and it's something that you love. But you need to know, it's my job to make sure you are safe while you do it. And this...(holds up X-Ray and taps at it again) isn't a safe situation.

RDV: It's not safe when I do a hurricanrana, but I seem to have managed-

Doc: Have you?!?!? This! Isn't! Normal!!!!!!!!

RDV looked down at the floor. He could tilt his head down fine without much pain. At least he had that going for him. He got a bit choked up as he looked back at the Doctor.

RDV: Do you...wanna know why I do this, Doc? Do you? I do it...because it's the only thing I've ever been great at. It's all I know. It's all I've ever had to know. Without this...without it...I'm nothing. So I ask you. What do you think I should do?

The Doctor sat down next to Rob.

Doc: I'm not saying you can't do this ever again. And not just because I can't stop you, but because this CAN heal. What I'm saying is...maybe you should take a match off. I know it's not a plan you'll like, but you wanted my opinion. That's it.

Rob just stared forward, as if he was in a fog.

Doc: Think about it. Now I've got you scheduled for that Cat Scan tomorrow, I'll see you after that when we get the intial results. Until then, I don't know, go watch a movie or something, clear your head. You may not know this, but 34 is actually young for most people. You've got a lot to live for.

The Doctor left the room, and Rob stayed there on that cold leather table. He crinkled the paper under his hands, kneading into the bench, rocking slowly back and forth. Rob didn't know what to do.

But he knew he had to get that damn collar off. And fast.


Camera fades.

A SHOOT BY JE

A camera finds JE in a dark room lighted by a red light behind him. JE turns to the camera and begins:

"Just so you people know, this i a shoot. Ive had enough of people thiking im nothng more than a jobber, someone who will never get a push. Well gues whay? Youre wrong. I will amount to my potencial and you will see me as a champion one day. Ive decided that I will never let someone like Matt Strikmore or RDV get the best of me ever again."

"Barn Arnderson, you tolled me start getting some wins under my belt if I whanted a title shot. Dont worry, because not only will I leave youre friend/baby Flher ina pool of his own blood, Ill make sure he doesnt eaven make it to fight Kojack for the Aftershock title. One way or another, win or lose, Dick, there gonna need dental records to identify youre body."

"And If I win match, then I will have two objectives. One, getting a shot at Kojacks Aftershock title and then, Matt Strikmore. Dont think I havent forgoten about what you did to me at Friction. You son of a bitch, Im gonna make sure you never think of wanting to pick up another chair in youre life, never mind hitting me with it."

"But for know, Dick get ready, cos come Revolucion, youre gonna wish you hadnt been given a match against, The One And Only, JE"

Fade...

BREAKING NEWS: David Hardy To WWE?

By: E-Fed Observer Online

Word has recently broke that World Wrestling Entertainment has just offered TCW superstar David Hardy a multi-year contract in the seven figure range. The 22-year-old star's two year contract, signed back in the 411Fed days, expired back in June, and he has been working on a verbal agreement since then. Rumor is that Vince McMahon wants to bring in the youngest Hardy to form a faction with his brothers Matt and Jeff, as well as Lita on the RAW brand. Many backstage believe that with mounting tensions backstage at TCW, David will indeed sign with the E, but few are weiry that the young star may throw his career away by selling his soul to McMahon, especially after the treatment Matt got last year. We will report more info as we receive it.

UPDATE: We have an exclusive interview with David Hardy just mere days after the original story broke! Our very own Snott Beef sat down with Hardy to discuss the WWE rumors and other related stories. Here is a transcript segment:

Snott Beef: Thanks for agreeing to this interview with us, Mr. Hardy

David Hardy: My pressure.

SB: Been enjoying the Puerto Rico stop on TCW's world tour?

DH: Don't even ask, man, don't ask.

SB: Fair enough. Are you at least looking forward to the other destinations overseas?

DH: They sound like very lovely places, but who knows if I'll even make it that far.

SB: Oh?

DH: Well this whole thing was to discuss the WWE thing, wasn't it?

SB: Right, are there any details you can give us about it?

DH: Technically, no, but when have I ever listened to authority? (Smiles) I'm not the highest qualified dude when it comes to contract details, but I know the big things they threw at me. I think it's something like three years at seven million dollars. I think that balances out to about 2.3 million a year or something. Is that right? Yeah, something like that.

SB: Wow, that puts you right up there with the kind of money guys like Triple H and Shawn Michaels make!

DH: I'll say, I guess Vince recognizes talent.

SB: That and a good business opportunity, records show that you, The RoXoRz and more recently, have had the highest sales in terms of merchandise.

DH: (Laughs) Maybe I wouldn't be in the contract battle if I actually got a piece of all those merch sales?

SB: You mean to say that TCW isn't giving you any royalties from products with your own face on it?

DH: That's right, they've kind of been screwing me around with that since last year, saying that it wasn't in my first contract I signed two years ago and therefore I have no legal entitlement to any of that dough. It's bullshit if you ask me.

SB: Is that why you're considering this WWE contract?

DH: It certainly is one of the contributing factors without a doubt. But to tell you the truth, the money I make outside of the company easily eclipses what I make by wrestling. I have multi-million dollar contracts with Pepsi, S-Mart and a three movie deal with Universal. Needless to say, I'm doing very well for myself.

SB: So why even bother with the WWE if you're set financially for quite a while?

DH: Well, one of the things that they offered me was to form a team with my brothers, which has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. Besides that, I've been offered a main event position on RAW, which is something TCW hasn't even considered offering me.

SB: You seem to be a bit upset with a few things at TCW.

DH: A few? Fuck I could go on for days. Since Bruce took me out for a few months, everything I had has gone to shit. I had to form my own faction just to get some attention from the assclowns backstage. I never got a rematch for my IC/TC title and to my knowledge, I probably wouldn't be getting one soon.

SB: And the WWE is offering that to you?

DH: Absolutely, they want me in a program with Edge for the title right off the bat.

SB: Interesting, that brings me to the topic of Lita, whom you've had a bit of a past with, how would you feel about working with her again?

DH: Well... (pauses) it's been a while since we've spoke, but I'd be all for working with her. She's an extraordinary talent, a good friend, and she's hot, what's not to like?

SB: I don't mean to jump to conclusions, but you seem to be really leaning towards joining the WWE. Have you made up your mind already?

DH: Not totally, I mean there are still a few things and people in TCW that I like, so I have some serious thinking to do. I guess we'll have to see how I do in this tournamet, that'll likely be the deciding factor in this whole thing. If I win, I'll stick around, if I'm eliminated, then I guess we'll see... (grins)

SB: What do you think your Infinity teammates would have to say about that?

DH: (Laughs) Oh, Infinity, where do I start? There's a few things I wouldn't mind saying about Infinity. First of all, Pla...

TO VIEW THE REST OF THE INTERVIEW AND DOWNLOAD THE VIDEO, PLEASE JOIN THE E-FED OBSERVER ONLINE BY CLICKING HERE!

Place: Puerto Rico
Time: Shortly after Revolucion goes off the air
Setting: the dressing room of the Unified 411Fed and ECF World Heavyweight Champion Jason C. Dante

The champ enters his dressing room with an annoyed look on his face, tonight did NOT go the way he had planned it and his mind was already filled with ways to get back on track including a few thoughts not becoming of someone who's considered one of the good guys now

Force of habit I suppose.

Dante stops dead in his tracks when he sees a black metallic box on the table in front of him

- Is it a bomb?

- Is it take out??

- A new mission from Charlie??

Well one way to find out as Dante quickly picks it up and opens the box. Inside he finds three things

1) A sheet of paper, folded with writing on it
2) A piece of flat, long high tech looking-gizmo
3) A GPS tracking device

Dante unfolds the paper and reads it to himself

"My old friend,

A world title, the Hellfire Club banding together - It's good to see you prosper even if I wouldn't agree on your choice of friends, but then again you didn't always agree on my choice of friends either. I just popped by to say good luck and I think you've finally earned it

666

PS: Dress lightly, I left the heat on"

After a moment it sinks in what the hell the note was about

"He didn't?" Dante mutters as he holds up the gizmo that he's almost sure is an electronic key.

"He did!"

Dante turns the GPS tracker on and waits for it to show it's pre-programmed destination

When he sees where the target is pointed he smiles, then he laughs - he was convinced that Bruce had forgotten all about the promise made so long ago.

*Fade*

"Money can't buy you love and it can‘t buy you happiness"

It's been said before but not many people adhere to it, there's a thought process that the more money we have, the easier things get and the happier we become. In truth it only causes more problems, you now have problems rich people have. The young 20 year soon to be 21 year old was figuring that out the hard way, so far his stint in TCW has brought anything but happiness. Sitting down in the hotel room, watching TV, a French news program commercial came on the air.

"Michel Brantlett found dead in his office, we'll have more details at 10:00"

DeSean Wow...great I wonder who did that?

DeSean used the remote to turn off the TV, he lay back in the bed, tomorrow he'll have his first title defense in TCW. Needless to say he was a little on edge, being in a wrestling relationship, having your girlfriend get kidnapped and being forced to fight to the death would do that to you. He watched as Tiffany walked out the bathroom, wearing almost next to nothing except her bra and panties. She tried to slide next to DeSean but he stood out of the bed, walking towards the window, he looked at the Paris skyline, it was a beautiful night, calm and peaceful. Annoyed Tiffany sat up, all she wanted to do was spend time with her man, like it was in their early days together before TCW and before Infinity but those days were long gone.

Tiffany: What is it?

DeSean: Nothing, thinking

Tiffany: You're always thinking

DeSean: Tiff I have a question?

Tiffany: What is it?

DeSean: Have you ever...cheated on me?

Tiffany: What?

DeSean: Have you ever cheated on me?

Tiffany: No!


DeSean stood in front of the window back turned to Tiffany, he didn't want to ask the question but he had to know. The dreams they meant something, the nights when she was gone for hours meant something.
DeSean: You're not lying to me are you?

Tiffany: No! Jesus Christ why are you so fucking paranoid?

DeSean spun around and turned to Tiffany

DeSean: Why shouldn't I be? Where the hell do you go Tiff? Where do you go for hours at a time?

Tiffany: I'm with you every fucking day! I would have no time to meet a guy! Where am I? Seeing the sights, shopping, things you and me used to do. Why don't we do that anymore?

DeSean: Because I'm working my ass off! Trying to make ends meet, trying to make sure we'll have a home when we get back to the states! Why the hell are you being so selfish!?

Tiffany: Me selfish!?

DeSean: Yes! Everything I've done, I've done for us! If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have a phat ass car to ride in.

Tiffany: Even though that car is in my name?

DeSean: Who's money paid for it, Tiff? We wouldn't be anywhere if it weren't for me. Your little shopping sprees, your clothing, jewelry that's because of me.

Tiffany: You think I care about some superficial shit? I'm here to be with you, back in ROH and in the Indies, we weren't rich.

DeSean: We weren't poor either

Tiffany: But we didn't get everything we wanted but we were happy together. Why the hell are you so selfish?! uh?

DeSean: Now I'm the selfish one?

Tiffany: Yes because you want it all and you can't have it all, you think I asked for this? A big ass suite? A fucking car, jewelry, clothing?

DeSean: Yea you did, you asked to be in this lifestyle, the minute you waved your tits in my face and blew me the same night.

Tiffany: Are you accusing me of using you?

DeSean: Yea I am because you're ungrateful

Tiffany: You know what I can get any guy I want, I don't need you. I'm beautiful and I can get a modeling contract, I could get one before and I damn sure can get one after you.

DeSean: Then leave Tiffany, there's the door, get your shit and get the fuck out.

Tiffany: I will

DeSean: I'll call the next flight out of this shithole, for you

Tiffany: No I can do it myself

Tiffany stomped over to the dresser and pulled out her clothes, with suitcase in hand, she quickly stuffed all of her belongings in her bag. DeSean watched as she entered the bathroom and slammed the door, she quickly opened it again wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans, she opened the room door and looked back at DeSean.

Tiffany: Goodbye

DeSean said nothing, feelings hurt Tiffany walked out the room and closed the door, DeSean stood in one spot and sighed he closed the curtains and crawled into the big empty bed, falling asleep alone for the first time in a long time.

CNN the most trusted name in news

Hello Larry King here with Arizona Republican Stephen MacDonald he will be replacing Senator Jon Kyl in the Arizona senate race, Senator MacDonald has served on the House of Representatives now making a move over to the senate, we've been discussig his views on a number of issues including the war in Iraq, the economy and a little bit of Arizona sports but now we'll be taking calls from the viewers.

Larry King: First caller Virginia from Arizona are you there?

Virginia: Hi Larry, as a mother of three boys I see them wrestle each other all the time and I get concerned with the influence that things like the WWF and that Ultimate fight thing, the influences they have on my three boys I just want to know what is your opinion on those and other violent sports such as Boxing.

MacDonald: Good question Virginia as you know my colleague Senator McCain has tried to put an end to UFC and I agree with his sentiment, it is human cockfighting, the WWF

Larry:WWE now

MacDonald: Yes the WWE, is just garbage and even if it's not real the influence it has on the youth of America is a very negative influence, we're working hard to try and get rid of those companies that have a negative influence on our impressionable youth.

Larry: OK next caller, Dave from Idaho

Dave: Hey Larry, I just wanted to ask MacDonald if he has heard of the wrestling promotion TCW?

MacDonald: TCW?

Larry: It's the #1 wrestling promotion in the world, the fights arent' scripted they're real.

MacDonald: Well I'm not much of a fan of filth but if TCW is #1 in the world, then my opinion is we're going to have to go after the top dog and if everything goes right in November there won't be a TCW show in Arizona, there won't be a TCW at all.

Larry: OK next caller....

TCW Post Friction Press Conference

Commissioner Stern: -- and that's all I can say right now about the man I talked to on Friction.

The European press, well part of it, the part that actually covers wrestling actually, has converged for the latest TCW press conference. Since Commission Stern took over she's been doing this after each show to generate some media interest in her federation. The press had already asked questions about the bookings for next show, asked their deep penetrating questions and gotten such exciting answers as

"No" when asked if the Miracle Violence Combination had a problem with defending their titles already.

"No Comment" on a question about how she thinks Infinity will react to having two of it's members forced to fight each other.

"He'll do alright" she said when talk briefly fell on Chuck Hagan a.k.a. Mr. Acceptable.

"I think green is a fetching color" was her answer when she was asked what she thought of the Green Super Stealth Ninja.

Once the questions die down Mrs. Stern smiles as if she's got a big secret. She clears her throat and then addresses the crowd once more.

"In wrestling pure unadulterated talent only comes around once in a blue moon and when that talent appears everyone wants to sign that person right away. Well I'm here to announce that TCW has managed to sign such a talent to a full time exclusive contract" She says with confidence.

She pauses for dramatic effect.

"This superstar will lead us into the new millenium" then she ads "I mean *further* into the new millenium. A man who's synonymous with power, a man that strikes fear in the heart of his opponents."

"Excuse me Mrs. Stern but who are you talking about?" A reporter asks.

"All in good time, this superstar will make his first TCW appearance on Havoc and then you'll know why I'm so exited about this."

"Is this the "Big announcement" that you've been promising us?"

"No, not this is a deal that just got finalized 6 hours ago, this isn't the announcement but it is yet another reason why Havoc is the number one rated wrestling show on television. I cannot say anything else ladies and gentlemen other than tune into Havoc for the debut of..."

Mrs. Stern clicks a button for the next slide on her power point presentation and then walks off as Queen's "We will rock you" starts up

¤BUM-BUM¤TISH!!¤ ¤BUM-BUM¤TISH!!¤ ¤BUM-BUM¤TISH!!¤ ¤BUM-BUM¤TISH!!¤

As one word, five letters appear on the screen.

<center>STRONG!</center>

<center>¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

Through out the ages there have been many strong men



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

Many men that have personified strength



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

Who were larger than life and did feats no one else could ever dream of doing



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

They were Strong!



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

They were true men of courage



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

They were Strong



¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

And now?

¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

in TCW

¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤

HE IS STRONG!!

¤BUM-BUM¤CLAP!!¤



STRONG!: Making his debut on TCW Havoc</center>

"Come on, Jackson! That tryout is still a few weeks away...don't get smug. I've seen more talented guys than you piss away worse opportunities."

Amid a flurry of activity around him, Eric Spencer stands at the corner of the practice ring, his arms folded. He wears a scowl like it was permanently etched on his face. At least, that's what his closest friends—and especially his students—would tell you. He steadily watches as a young, sandy-haired athlete take another dropkick to the face.

Eric leans on the bottom rope. "What'd I just fucking say? You have to see that coming. Block, deflect, think about your counter. Plan three moves ahead or you'll never make it out of this fucking gym!"

The kid named Jackson races to his feet and dodges a short clothesline. He wraps his sparring partner in a full nelson, but quickly loses it as the other man drops out and latches on an armbar. A few seconds later, Jackson is locked in a modified crossface and frantically taps.

Dropping his hands and shaking his head, Eric walks away as the hold is broken. "It's a wonder they're even looking at you. Holy shit..."

A squat Marine of a man jogs over to walk with the disgruntled trainer. "You think we should recommend a few more weeks here, lengthen his stay?"

Eric takes a sip of water. "Hell yes. He'll be laughed at...WE'LL be laughed at if we send him along like this."

The two watch as Jackson and his partner walk back to first position and lock up.

Eric shakes his head. "Chris...what are we doing?"

Chris looks over at his old friend. "What do you mean?"

Eric smoothes out his weathered ECF shirt and gestures at Jackson, now caught in a headlock. "This guy. All these guys. They get younger, more cocky, more green, every fucking year. How do any of them find their way out?"

"How? ‘Cause of what you teach them."

Eric chuckles. "You mean they listen? Could have fooled me."

Chris pats Eric on the back before heading toward the heavy bag. "They hang on your every word. They know who you are. They just need time and experience for it to sink in."

Eric grabs his water bottle and heads toward his office, muttering. "They know who I was..."

Chris stops as if he just remembered something. "Hey...what time you want me to come over tonight?"

Eric thinks. "Around six. Game's at eight, but we'll make an extra burger or two for you."

"Andrea making her chili dip?"

Eric grins. "What's a World Series without chili dip?"

Chris corrects him. "A Tigers World Series."

"It's about damn time, too." Beaming, Eric walks into his office and shuts the door behind him. He takes a deep sigh...and then realizes someone is already in his chair. The man swivels around, smiling uneasily, hoping that it will help disarm the larger man.

The larger man, however, is not so easily disarmed. He takes one look at the one occupying his seat—the unearned smile, the air of entitlement, the tattoos peeking out from his long shirtsleeves—and he's right back to wearing his scowl.

The tattooed one tries a different approach. "I like chili dip, too."

Eric is not amused. "I was just talking about guys like you."

Titus stands, still smiling. "Oh really? Loveable younger brothers?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Titus chuckles nervously. "Wow...always one to get down to business."

Eric studies the younger man's face, watches his eyes, the quiver of his lip. "You're in trouble, aren't you?"

Titus nods, embarrassed. "Yeah. I couldn't think of anyone else who might help."

From the heavy bag out in the gym, Chris notices for the first time the duo talking in the office. He raises a hand to pause his trainee's workout in order to concentrate. He hears no words, but sees Eric receive a piece of information that he obviously doesn't like. There are raised arms and Chris can only imagine how loud Eric's rant must sound to the messenger.

He watches as Titus finally can respond, his whole body slumped, defeated and apologetic, before sitting down with his head in his hands.

He watches as Eric puts his hands on his hips, unsure of what to do next.

And finally, he watches as Eric says something else, now much calmer but every bit as stern. Titus raises his head to look at his older brother. The two embrace, one relieved, the other concerned.

Chris looks on, feeling some relief himself. "I told you it'd sink in sooner or later." He grabs onto the bag and signals for his student to resume. As he moves against the force of each punch, he steals one further glance back at the window. He'll want to hear about this later, and what it will mean.

Whatever it is...Andrea probably won't like it.

OOC: (This post takes place Saturday October 21, 2006. Even though the show is in San Torino, DeSean's hotel is in Venice)

Wake Up, Wake up, Wake Up! Wake Up, Wake Up, Wake Up!"
DeSean turned off the alarm clock and slowly rose from his bed, he looked over to his right and saw the empty spot where Tiffany would often lay beside him. It had only been a couple of weeks since they broke up, since she left him. He sat out of his bed and stretched his arms, today was his birthday the day he'll be turning 21.

He was waiting for this day to come wondering how he was going to celebrate, he didn't expect it to spend it in Italy that was for sure and he didn't expect to spend without his family by his side but here he was alone. He knew one of his stablemates would call him and wish him a happy birthday and seeing where he wanted to go party, he walked inside the bathroom, disrobed and got into the shower. Turning the water on, he put his head under the showerhead and let the water rinse his hair out. Eyes closed, he thought about what he's accomplished so far in his career and what he's done in his young life so far. While his friends and classmates were off in college working on improving their life and taking steps to their career, DeSean's career had already started, he's already experienced the high's and low's of being a professional wrestler.

He's won matches and titles, signed with the biggest promotions in the world but his ultimate goal still hasn't been achieved. A world title signifies that you are the best at your sport, you cannot get any higher than a world title, and everyone knows that including DeSean. It was no secret he was frustrated with his lack of success in TCW, it seemed like he was going nowhere and if he dared moved up his head would hit the glass ceiling, not able to break through. He didn't want the label of being one the best to never hold a world title, it meant that in the end he didn't have the killer instinct to close, he was good but just not good enough. He was good enough to be given the TCW tag team title but he wasn't good enough to defend those titles, he felt like the weak link in Infinity constantly letting his teammates down. He stepped out the shower and dried his body off, turning the fan on he waited for the mirror to become clear, after a couple of seconds he got impatient and wiped it with his hands. When he finished, he looked into the mirror and stared at it. Instead of his own reflection, the image of Tiffany of stared back at him and smiled. He closed his eyes and opened them again, his own image stared back at him. He shook his head and walked out the bathroom.

..........................................................
Somewhere in Philadelphia, around the same time

"It's a dumb idea Vince"

Cornette sat in the office of Gabe Sapolski, the ROH "commissioner" and creative team member sat in front of the booker talking to another figurehead on the phone.

JC: "Dammit Vince! People don't want to see that! They want to see wrestling that's what we give, we're a wrestling promotion with real wrestling fans!"

Gabe: Jim come on

JC: Fine the hell with it then! :click: Sorry Gabe, Russo wants to book a backwards battle royal whatever the hell that means.

Gabe: All right, now on to business, it's been 6 months and DeSean still has our ROH world title, how close are we to getting that belt back?

JC: Well, TCW is in Europe and we're not so we're not

Gabe: We're not close, that's what you're telling me?

JC: Yes, we'll get it back the minute they hit North America

Gabe: And when the hell will that be?

JC: It'll be awhile, may I make a suggestion?

Gabe: Go ahead

JC: Why don't we send guys over there? To Europe, we have quite a few wrestlers who tour in Europe, who take European dates.

Gabe: Sounds like a plan, I'll talk to Cary about it but I also have a plan in mind

..........................................

We're back in Italy

DeSean walked down the hallway listening to his IPod

Go ahead tell me you'll leave again
You'll just come back running
Holding a scarred hand
It's all the same

"Hey DeSean!"

DeSean could hear the familiar voice in the background, he turned the volume down and stopped.

"Quincy?"

DeSean turned around and smiled as he saw his old friend, the two of them shook hands and hugged

DeSean: Damn man, what the hell is up? Where you've been?

Quincy: It's been a while hasn't it? I'm just here in Italy meeting with TCW officials trying to get a damn job here.

DeSean: I see, well good luck on that I haven't seen you since the well you know.

Quincy: Yea but I heard about you and Tiff, I'm sorry

DeSean: It's cool, I'm not stressed over it.

If it isn‘t love, why do I feel this way
Why does she stay on my mind?

Quincy: What are you listening to?

DeSean: Uh...nothin

Quincy: Yea right, oh yea man, happy birthday

DeSean: Thanks, at least you remember it, no one else has even called except my family

Quincy: No word from Infinity?

DeSean: Naw, I'm little surprised but hey maybe they had things to do

Quincy: It has been hectic here people are running around with there fucking heads cut off, so what are you doing tonight?

DeSean: I don't know, I would go out but hell I have no one to go out with, Stallion, Jag and Marcus hate me right now, Eddie is with them, I can't find anyone from Infinity.

Quincy: Well I'll go with you tonight, we can meet some bitches tonight get your mind off of Tiffany.

DeSean: My mind isn't on Tiffany

If it isn't love...

Quincy: Ok man

DeSean: New subject, have you heard from Tony or Paul?

Quincy: Yea I have, here's the deal. Tony is pissed or was pissed, I think he's getting over it.

DeSean: Ok? Why was he pissed?

Quincy: He's pissed because you didn't visit him in the hospital

DeSean: I already know that

Quincy: Motherfucker would you listen for a minute? He got a letter from some mystery guy, he doesn't know from who. That letter, he felt like made some sense, why is he getting a letter from a stranger wishing him well when he hasn't heard shit from his own friend?

DeSean: I was going to visit him but I got caught up in some mess, I got arrested in Spain and I wasn't able to.

Quincy: You should tell him that

DeSean: I know, I will but this mystery man? I wonder if he's connected to Stallion's attack by Breed, Supreme is listening to someone.

Quincy: I wouldn't worry about that right now, don't give yourself a headache from some bullshit. They're your friends they'll come around

DeSean: You're right but this mystery guy is going to get head split open for trying to fuck with me.

Quincy: Yea fuck that motherfucker but we're in Venice, Italy we need to go out for your birthday, I heard about this club called Casanova we can check it out.

DeSean: Cool with me, you driving?

Quincy: Sure I can drive, what don't you have a rental?

DeSean: See what had happened was that, Tiffany when we broke up I let her take the Excursion

Quincy: You what!?

DeSean: Yea

Quincy: She has everything?

DeSean: Yea, pretty much

Quincy: Damn DeSean, (Quincy sighs) We'll go to a club then.

...................................................

With Quincy in the driver seat, the two of them rode through Venice looking for a club, Venice isn't known for it's nightlife but there were some hot spots that caught their interest. While Quincy drove, DeSean flipped through the stations looking for a good hip hop station or at least top 40s, hoping for some sort of connection to the US. They've been out of the states so long, that he started to miss his home country. For all the shit that was going on in the US, he started to feel an appreciation for all the things that's there. Not feeling satisfied with the stations, reached under his seat and pulled out his CD case.

DeSean: I have some new shit that you'll want to hear, it's hot.

Quincy: Well fuck, put it then.

DeSean popped the CD in the CD player

DeSean: I made this CD myself

Quincy: Oh word? Why didn't I get a copy

DeSean: Because I burned it recently, right after Tiffany left. I got all the new shit on there.

DeSean pressed the next button a couple of times and then stopped.

DeSean: This is my song right here

Quincy looks at DeSean in a weird manner as a guitar starts to play, he knew DeSean always had an open mind when it came to music but this was a bit much. DeSean began to snap his fingers.

DeSean: Living my life in a slow hell, different girl every night at the hotel
I ain't seen the sunshine in 3 damn days, been fueling up on cocaine and whiskey
Lord I wonder, if I ever change my ways, I put your picture away sat down and cried today, I can't look at you, I'm lying next to her. I put your picture away, sat down and cried today. I can't look at you, I'm lying next to her. oooooh

Quincy shook his head

DeSean: Saw you last night at the hotel

Quincy: Ok that's enough!

Quincy turned off the CD and threw it on the backseat

Quincy: Are you over Tiffany?

DeSean: Yea

Quincy: Then why the hell are you listening to all those love, pussy whipped songs?

DeSean: I'm not

Quincy: What the fuck was we just listening to then?

DeSean: Look, I'm not pussy whipped, I whip pussy

Quincy: Yea we'll see, when we get into the club

DeSean: Yea we will, which club are we going to anyway?

Quincy: Some club called Casanova, it's supposed to be pretty big here

Quincy pulled up into the parking lot of "Casanova" and the two of them hopped out.

Quincy: You'll like this place man

The guard at the door didn't even check IDs as the two of them walked past him, not one of his friends called him and wished him a happy b-day but he figured he'll have a good night anyway. They both entered the main area of the club where DeSean was greeted.

DeSean: Oh you gotta be shitting me

Surprise!

.....................................

All of the members of Infinity, Stallion, Jag, Eddie and Marcus sat near the bar, with glasses raised.

Marcus: A toast to 21 more years I guess

Everyone: 21 more years

DeSean: Fuck that, 100 more years

The group clang glasses and shared a laugh, Tony, Paul, Marcus and Eddie all walked up to DeSean, Tony had a brown bag in his hand.

Tony: Well it's your birthday and we figured we could all chip in and get you something

DeSean: Thanks man

DeSean opened the bag and pulled out a box, inside the box was DVD case

DeSean: What's this?

Stallion: Open it

DeSean looked at the smiling faces in front of him and shrugged his shoulders, he opened the case and looked at the DVD and rolled his eyes.

DeSean: My Thick Black Ass #12, thanks guys.

Jag: We figured you would need that now that you're single

Eddie: for those nights that you feel a little alone, you can pop that in and appreciate yourself.

DeSean: Wow, very funny guys but I won't need this DVD I can get any girl I want just like I got Tiffany.

DeSean points at a young Italian woman sitting at a bar

DeSean: You see her, nice legs, nice ass, big breasts, she'll be in my bed tonight, watch and learn fellas.

The 4 of them watched as DeSean walked over to the bar and sat next to the Italian woman after a couple of minutes DeSean turned back around smiling, he walked over to Stallion and grabbed the DVD out of his hand.

DeSean: I'm a little rusty

DeSean walked back towards the bar this time sitting alone, he ordered two beers and as the bartender slid him the glass, a guy who looked to be in his late 30s, early 40s sat next to him. DeSean looked at him and nodded his head, the neatly dressed man ordered a scotch on the rocks.

DeSean: What's up?

Man: Hey, having a good time?

DeSean: It's my birthday so, I will have a good time what about you?

Man: Not really

DeSean: You're American?

Man: Yes, I'm here with my client, he's an actor you may have heard of him Vincent Chase.

DeSean stopped his drinking and put the glass down, he smiled and looked over at the agent.

Man: He's over there with his friends

The agent pointed at his client and his entourage as they were in the corner, drinking and hanging around a bunch of the local Italian girls. Star struck DeSean stared in the corner, before he broke his trance and could only say one sentence.

DeSean: Holy shit, he played in Aquaman. I'm DeSean Blackwell big fan.

Man: I know you are, professional wrestler for TCW?

DeSean: Yea that's right, I'm here with my friends celebrating my birthday, the big 21.

Man: Yea, you know I see something in you, I only represent actors but I've been thinking about adding an athletic division to Miller-Gold, I want to represent you personally.

DeSean was surprised, hell shocked, he always thought about getting into movies, maybe some TV shows, plus he needed somebody to represent him when it came to contracts. S-Mart had a bunch of agents but DeSean was hesitant to hire one of them due to conflicts of interest, now here was an, the head agent of the agency and an agent for an Hollywood A-lister.

DeSean: You know what? I would like that, I can see myself acting, getting into endorsements. DeSean Blackwell athlete slash actor, I fucking like it. I have no pen but the hell with it, let's go old school...wait what's your name?

Man: Ari Gold

DeSean: Ari Gold, handshake deal?

Ari: Motherfucking handshake deal
The two of them shook hands and Ari handed DeSean his card and bought him a drink.

Ari: After tonight DeSean your life is going to change my friend.....

To be continued

Valerie Stern is in her office in the Ano Liossia Arena in Athens, overlooking the preparations for Stranglehold. She's looking over some notes when there's a knock at the door.

"Come in." says Stern.

The door opens, and out steps the new TCW Enforcer, Bruce.

"You wanted to see me boss?" asked Bruce as he stepped in.

"Ah yes, come in. I wanted you to meet the new addition to the TCW roster. You know, so he can get a feel for the place."

"All right, where is the guy?"

"He'll be here soon. So, how did you like you're first day on the new job?"

"Haha, I loved it. I'm gonna have a ton of fun with the new role. Just wait and see."

"I look forward to it."

KNOCK, KNOCK

"Ah, there must be the new guy," says Stern. "Come in"

The door opens and in steps a man wearing a "Ramoens" t-shirt and wearing some torn jeans. Not very formal to meet the new boss.

"You wanted to see me Miss. Stern," says the man as he extends his hand to Stern.

"Yes Mr?" asks Stern as she shakes the man's hand.

"Please, just call me K.I.D"

"Ok, K.I.D it is. This is our enforcer, Bruce," says Stern as she turns to Bruce, who is standing next to her.

"Hello their sir" says K.I.D as he extends his hand to shake Bruce's.

"Please, call me Bruce. Less formal." Replies Bruce as he shakes K.I.D's hand.

"Have a seat." Says Stern to K.I.D, which he quickly does.

"Now, I read you're resume and saw you're training and I was very impressed. Ju-Jitsu, Tae-kwondo, an extensive background in mixed martial arts. You're exactly the kind of competitor you're looking for here in TCW."

"Well thanks you, I was quite taken back when I was offered the contract. But I new I couldn't let it go past without accepting it."

"Were just happy to have you here. Unfortunately, our next show is a PPV and we don't have any room for you on the card, so you'll have to wait to have you're first match."

"That's ok, I'll just train a bit before then. You know, you have a brother of mine here in TCW."

Both Stern and Bruce look at each other with a puzzled face on them.

"Who?" asks Stern.

"JE" replies K.I.D.

"He is? Well, we'll just book you in a match with him on the next show after the PPV."

"That's a kind offer and all, but I have to turn it down. You see, my brother and me have some issues and we don't get on very well. We used wrestle when we were younger against each other, but there was some personal stuff that went down and things got heated one time and we decided to never wrestle with or against each other again, except in extreme circumstances."

"Ok, we can respect that." Replies Stern.

"If it's ok with you, I saw a gym when I was walking up here and I wanted to check it out before my first match."

"Fine. We'll let you know when you're first match will be."

"Thanks" with this, K.I.D proceed to leave the office.

"Wait." Says Bruce, stopping K.I.D in his tracks. "Let me ask you something, why are you in the business any way? Is it for the money? The glory? The women?"

"No sir. I love the competition. Fame and glory is secondary to me. If I was to get a title opportunity, I would do my best to get it, but if I lost, I would just look forward for the next match."

"And the women?"

"They approach me, not the other way round."

With that said, K.I.D leaves the office and heads for the gym, leaving Bruce and Stern to discuss plans for Stranglehold.
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