"I don't care about your tournament..."

"C'mon, it's for the number one contendership," Shabadoo began to plead, "Don't you want to reclaim..."

"I don't care about your number one contendership!"

With a roar of fury and exertion, Darkness heaved the desk in the commissioner's office over onto its side, spilling papers, files, and toys (executive and children's) across the plush carpet. Shabadoo looked terrified now that nothing stood between himself and his angry employee while Pyro was shocked into silence for once in his life.

Darkness did not pander to the chain of command now. He was fond of Pyro, but he had other things on his mind and he was interested only in appealing to the real power in the federation.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked in a voice that was more growl than speech.

"D...doing what...?"

Darkness advanced, fists clenched, on the quaking man. "Putting me in this tournament; making me fight men I have already proved I am better than."

"Everyone is in the tournament, Darkness," Shabadoo protested, "That's kind of the idea."

"I don't care about the belts anymore," Darkness said as he brought his face close to Shabadoo's. As he spoke, fire flashed in his eyes in the manner of Dante and Bruce before him and, for just a second, Shabadoo thought he could see the flares of buildings on fire and a red sky rent with explosions in the depths of the former champion's eyes.

"Then why are you here?!"

Darkness turned, looking at Pyro for the first time. The commissioner looked at Darkness with a steely resolve in his eyes. The bizarre figurehead leader of the federation whom Darkness had always regarded with warmth but not with respect was showing some spine for perhaps the first time since his appointment to the comically inappropriate position. Though Pyro usually got his way through sheer petulance or approval of shareholders, never before had he stood up and, in all seriousness, demanded an answer in this manner.

"What?" Darkness asked after a few seconds had passed.

"Why are you here if you don't care about the belts and you don't care about beating people?"

Darkness frowned. The kid had a point...

* * *

"Glad you could all make it," Shadow nodded to each of the men in the room, glossing over the newest member of Infinity who was conspicuous by his absence.

Highone smiled over the bottle of beer from which he had just taken a sip. It was imported, something good and expensive from a small brewery in Germany. "It's no trouble, Shads - sometimes you can't conduct business in a locker room."

"I quite agree," Shadow replied, inclining his head as if conceding a point to his stable mate. Shadow was not wearing his mask, but his dark skin was daubed in the black and platinum cross design. On someone less stinking rich, the affectation would have seemed insane. For Shadow and his ilk, it was merely an eccentricity.

PD stepped from the shadows that cloaked most of the office. There was something oddly clandestine about their meeting which he couldn't quite place his finger on. He wasn't yet sure why he and his stable would be discussing matters as if they were plotting something evil, but he had a feeling he would soon understand why.

He had not dressed up for the meeting. Cameron Jones was a simple man - shrewd, of course, and not a dullard by any stretch of the imagination, but he had a family, a son, a home. Cameron Jones didn't dress up for anything that didn't happen in a church.

Shifting the belt on his shoulder, becoming accustomed to its weight after the more-familiar Transcontinental belt had been taken from him - a subject he and Highone tended to step carefully around - he nodded towards Shadow's matching title, "Nice, aren't they?" he observed.

Shadow ran his fingers over the gold surface of the title and chuckled dryly, "Yes, they are a very...worthy...acquisition..."

It was PD's turn to laugh, "Acquisition? You make it sound like a business take over."

"That's because it is, Cameron," Shadow explained, "There are very few things indeed in my life that I do not think of in such terms."

"Does that include Infinity?" Hardy asked from near the back of the room. He slouched against a wall near the door feeling somewhat out of place in the mahogany and leather of Shadow's office. He was getting used to the finer things, but this was all kind of...old... Where were the naked RoXettes?

Shadow nodded again, "It does."

Highone raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from his bottle again, "That's a pretty cynical think to say, Shads," he said, a strange undertone in his voice.

"My friends," Shadow began, the latter word coming in the same tone of voice that someone else might say ‘corporate associates', "You must understand that to a man like me, business and pleasure are no different. It is my one driving passion to relentlessly crush those who stand against me. In another time, I might have been a general or a gladiator, but in this modern world I am the greatest living businessman and one half of the World's Tag Team Champions. Didn't you check the slogan on the latest Shadow action figure?"

Infinity looked at him askance.

"Those who stand against me shall soon fall before me, of course. It is a mantra to me; a motto by which I live my life."

PD seemed unimpressed by Shadow's pontificating and took a step closer. He held the belt in front of him and looked grimly at his partner, "Well congratulations, you did it. But no story has a happy ending in the real world - if we want to go down in history, we're going to have to make sure that people keep falling before you - before us."

"I couldn't agree more," Shadow replied, unfazed, "Which is why I have gone to the effort of procuring details of the upcoming card for Friction." He reached into a drawer of his desk and produced several sheets of paper. Quickly he distributed them to each member of Infinity, barring the absent Titanium Insomniac, and allowed them to peruse their matches.

"Hey, there's no ECF and 411fed logo at the top of this," Hardy noticed after a few seconds.

"A printing error, I assume," Shadow shrugged, "But as you can see, we have some difficult encounters ahead of us - some more difficult than others," he added.

PD held up his sheet, "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"It's the fixtures..."

"No," he shook his head, "My match. What point are they trying to make here?"

"Not they, Cameron, us," Shadow explained, folding his hands on the desk, "It's amazing what one can ensure if one has enough sheer capital at one's disposal - it was I who made that particular match a reality."

"Well...I've beaten Dante, and Dante beat him last night..." PD mused, still looking at the fixtures.

"Of course. A burnt-out, injured and doubtless angry former world champion should prove no obstacle to you."

Highone grinned eagerly, "And this is just what Infinity needs to show everyone that we mean business."

"Exactly," Shadow agreed. The atmosphere in the room had picked up considerably since the thought of an Infinity member beating Darkness had occurred to them. Now all five men present, with the exception of PD, seemed cheery, even elated.

"Darkness won't ever forget the name ‘Infinity'," Highone vowed, raising his bottle in salute. Golden Infinity rings glinted in the low lighting of the office as his stable mates raised their own drinks in unison.

**On the surface, it was what it appeared to be...2 superstars. The newer star. The aged veteran. One still on the pinnacle of greatness, looking up, but facing the potential downward slide that always follows the rocket fast ascent to superstardom. The other, no longer on the pinnacle, but memories of his stay cause him to try & fight to reach it again, even though he is well beyond his abilities. Both former world champions. Most promoters would bellow out about the "match up to end all match ups!" "The fight you've waited years for!" "Old school against new school." Cameron Jones, aka PlausibleD versus Darkness.**

H1-"Yo Cam! You want more Cristal?"

**Cameron Jones sat in Shadow's office, staring at the nameplate on the tag belt that rested on his lap. He looked over at the desk where Shadow was seated. His smile & wink to Cameron were colder than the chill that rushed down his spine. Cam gave a half-hearted smile back & slowly stood up, holding the tag title strap firmly in his hand.**

PD-"Umm...no thanks. Guys...I'm outta here. I still need to catch up on some rest. Plus I need to do some research on Darkness. I need to stop by A/V and..."

**His words are cut off as a manilla folder slaps the top of the desk. He cuts his eyes away from Highone & sees the label across the the folder...

Darkness

...Cameron looks at Shadow, who is grinning from ear to ear.**

Shadow-"Everything anyone knows about that guy is in there. Plus there's a disk with all his matches. You won't have a problem knowing him & his moves."

**Cam looks back at the folder & nods his head silently.**

Shadow-"Matter of fact, you'll probably end up knowing him better than he knows himself."

**Cameron mutters to himself as he reaches for the folder.**

PD-"Somehow I doubt that."

**He lifts up the folder & slides it into his duffelbag & slings that over his shoulder. Spinning around on his heels, he grabs the door handle & turns it.**

PD-"I'll catch up with you guys later."

Shadow-"The S-Jet leaves exactly at 6 whether we're on it or not. Don't be late."

**PD pauses for a moment & nods, then heads out allwoing the door to close behind him. He stops just outside the door & hears Highone talk about a buzzkill & needing to show him how to party it up after winning a title. Shadow replies something about Jones not having all his priorities set yet, but that they would soon help him with that. Cameron looks at his settings around him & walks off down the hall towards the exit.**

Janitor-"Good match Mr. Jones."

**Cameron smiles & nods. Under the surface though...the stuff you find underneath when you scratch at the top layer with your fingernail. Looking at that, this wasn't a battle to end all battles. This was a fight to end something...but what? And why would Shadow throw PD into this. He knew of the beating Cameron had taken at the hands of what the industry rags were already calling one of the, if not THE most brutal TLC matches or any matches for that matter, in the history of wrestling. Shadow it appears, was going to be someone PD would have to deal with in the future, but Darkness would have to be dealt with even sooner than that. And the fact that PD had beaten Dante & Dante had beaten Darkness meant absolute shit & he knew it. That backwoods line of rationale would only serve to get PD injured or maybe even killed if he truly believed that. Him saying it to Infinity was more lip service for the moment as oppossed to a core belief.**

"You are about to be in a bad way."

**Cameron is snapped to the moment by a rough & gravelly voice. A man wearing a beret backwards sits in the driver's seat, leaning over & yelling out the passenger side window towards Cameron. He looks around & takes a step towards the cab.**

PD-"Excuse me?"

Cabbie-"I was asking if you were the one who called for a cab?"

**PD shakes his head & the cabbie mutters something, driving off. PD reaches into his pocket & pulls out a pair of spectatcles. He carefully places them onto the bridge of his nose & wraps the ends around each ear. His vision focuses in immensly.**

PD-"I'm getting too old for this."

**The wrestling world is a vain one. And the crowd of fans would not react positivly to him wearing glasses. Geritol jokes, AARP, social security jokes & cracks about depends would start flying & then it's all downhill from there. The fact is, Cameron needed this gig still. Atleast for a few more big paydays. And this match against Darkness...this will be one of the bigger ones. As Cameron reached his rental car, he stops, looking around for a moment. No one else is in the parking lot. But he knows he's being watched. He opens the door, places his tag belt into the duffelbag, tosses it into the backseat & slides down into the Sebring convertible. He grabs his cell phone & checks to see if he's missed any calls. He has not. A solemn look appears across his face. Looking at the dashboard, a picture of Kim & Zach is taped over the tachometer. He kisses his fingertips & places them to the picture. He cranks the engine & shifts it into gear. As the camera pans up to a nearby rooftop, Darkness leans against a small outcropping of bricks, watching Cameron Jones pull away.**

Darkness-"Your intentions may be pure Cameron...but your soul is corrupted. And it's time for it to stop."

fadeout

The silence seemed to last for hours, though in reality it was only a few seconds. A thousand thoughts whirled through Darkness's mind. Memories of a battle too brutal to ever tell anybody he might meet here - save those who had been there in person - anything about; a declaration on the Tower of Hades that had shaken him to his very core; the tearful face of his daughter, taken from him a second time, in a new way.

Darkness thought he knew himself inside out, but now he was questioning every single thing in his reality.

Why did he stay here?

What did any of this mean to him?

What did he have left now?

No belts, no family, no friends since he had let Doe go with Marta and the Shadow Slayers. He couldn't even cling to his near-spotless record now that Dante had pinned him cleanly.

"Darkness?"

He looked ‘round at Pyro. The commissioner had said his name correctly today and Darkness wondered if maybe there was something more to the strange fellow than any of them realised.

"I...I don't know..." he finally stammered in reply to Pyro's question that seemed to have come a lifetime ago.

He had entrusted his friends with the duty of finding his daughter. Seth, he knew, could evade him indefinitely, but with a team his most hated enemy did not know seeking him, they had a glimmer of hope. He cared nothing about the World Championship, not after what he'd been through with Dante and the thought of fighting his way through a hungry roster - hungry to beat him and make a name for themselves as well as for that coveted title shot - made him feel physically ill.

"At least hear what your match is," Shabadoo said, interrupting Darkness's wandering thoughts.

Darkness blinked. So caught up in his confusion and anger, he had not given thought to who his opponent might be. He found that the thought intrigued him. Since this time last year, he had fought matches either leading up to his Championship match or leading to title defences. It was a long time since he had fought simply to fight.

Shabadoo still looked at him questioningly, a hint of fear still in his eyes though he now sensed - correctly - that the worst of Darkness's rage had passed.

"Go on," Darkness nodded to him.

Shabadoo cleared his throat as he reached down for a piece of paper that lay on the floor from when Darkness had heaved the desk over. Retrieving it, he scanned the page for a few moments. "Ah yes, here we are," he began, "Well, Shadow approached me and said that Infinity..."

"Who?"

Shabadoo blinked, "What...Shadow?"

Darkness waved a hand, "I know who Shadow is. The other one."

"...Infinity?"

"Yes. Him...or her...or whatever..."

"It's...well," Shabadoo scratched his head, taken aback by Darkness's apparent ignorance of fed matters, "It's a stable; a kind of team."

Darkness made an ‘ah' noise and folded his arms, waiting for Shabadoo to go on.

"They're...um...well. Are you sure you've never heard of them?"

"I've been busy."

"Ok, well, they're Highone, Hardy, PD, Shadow, DeSean Blackwell...you've heard of all of them, right?"

"I am aware of them, yes."

"Plus now Titanium Insomniac."

Darkness's eyes widened a fraction, but his demeanour didn't change. "I was not aware he had returned to active competition."

"He came back at Endgame - he called you out as matter of fact. Called you...um..." Shabadoo scrabbled around again, turning over a few sheets of paper before finding the one he wanted, "Let's see....uh, yeah, he implied you were the offspring of He-Man and Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

"I'm not certain who those people are, but it sounds as if that assessment may be accurate."

"Anyway," Shabadoo shrugged, "They don't like you - hence this match against PD."

Darkness frowned for a second, "PD...you mean Plausible Deniability?"

"That's him."

"I watched a match of his - a doubly jeopardy involving Dante and Misfit. He was impressive."

"We thought so too. Anyway, they can't wait to beat you."

Darkness barked a short laugh. "Beat me? No one..." he paused and corrected himself, "Almost no one beats me."

"They disagree."

Something rose unbidden in Darkness; the anger he had suppressed for the duration of the conversation began to return. There was something hateful about the things he was being told, something intolerable.

That some group, a faction of whom he had never heard and that he knew nothing about would put some kind of price on his head because of some perceived point to prove enraged him somehow.

He was Darkness. He had been the greatest Shadow Slayer in a hundred years. He had slain Abbadon himself and laid waste to an entire army almost single-handedly. He was the Antichrist, the Champion of Heaven, Earth and Hell.

He was not some obstacle to be overcome to feed the egos of a group of ingrates and glory hounds.

"Mark my words," Darkness vowed as he came close to Shabadoo again, "Infinity may try to bring me down, but they will discover just how unstoppable a force I am. I have chosen my battlefield in the War To End All Wars, and they are standing on it. This is not about the belts, this is not about glory, this is not about a vendetta. This is simply house keeping."

He turned and walked to the door, leaving Shabadoo open mouthed behind him and Pyro still looking defiant but with a hint of some strange pride in his eyes. Darkness looked back one last time at the two men and nodded to each in turn.

"I am about to begin a rampage," he told them, "This is my battlefield and I will not tolerate having it cluttered with miscreants who distract me. Cameron Jones is the first; there will be more."

* * *

Cameron gave no thought to the eyes he had felt piercing his back. He knew who they belonged to and he knew how this was supposed to work. You find out your match, you track down your opponent and then you kick his ass. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Was it so hard to just keep to yourself before a show and let both of you go into the match fighting fit? Cameron couldn't remember the last time he'd walked down to the ring feeling healthy - seemed like every opponent he had ever had just had to run him over or throw him through a window or something equally ridiculous and unnecessary.

Patiently, he waited at a red light as the drizzle intensified into fully fledged rain and began to form rivulets on the windshield of the Sebring. Unseasonable weather he thought to himself, but then adjusted his thinking to his location and realised that he was sitting on an intersection in Florida a month into hurricane season.

"Fucking weather," he murmured to himself anyway.

Irritably he tapped his fingers on the wheel. If it wasn't the rain annoying him it was this red light. At his age he ought to have learnt to be patient, Cameron knew, but he was someone who fought for a living - they teach you not to bottle up that anger. Being pissed off was par for the course in this game.

He wondered if Darkness was as pissed off as him right now.

Probably not.

Mentally, he reviewed everything he knew about the man who, until just last night, had been the ECF and 411fed Unified World's Champion. It was not a long list.

"Let's see," he mumbled quietly, "Wears a lot of black...carries a sword...doesn't like to lose, according to Hammer..."

There were a lot of crazy stories about Darkness flying around. Some stuff about him hijacking a car and driving across a state, destroying everything in his path. Word backstage says he'd ridden off into the night before Endgame too and then had stepped out of his locker room before the match when no one had even seen him come back...

Exaggerations, he had to believe. But who knows in this place?

Absorbed by thoughts about his opponent, Cameron didn't notice the light change. Glancing up a moment too late he cursed and depressed the accelerator, but it wasn't fast enough and a smashing noise to his rear and the sudden jerk of movement as he was thrown forward into the wheel startled him.

The loud beep of the horn behind him brought him back to his senses. "Jesus Christ," he cursed, unbuckling his belt and checking himself over for injury quickly as he had a hundred times before - after the amount of fights he'd been in these things become instinctive. He opened the door and swore again as the rain came down in a sheet, soaking him almost instantly.

The sound of car horns assailed him as he pulled his coat closer and ran a hand over his shaved scalp. He'd gotten rid of his hair as soon as it'd started to recede - another way for him to ignore the signs of his age, he supposed. He splashed across the soaking asphalt towards the back of the Sebring to investigate the damage caused by the smash. The headlights of the cars blurred in his vision as the sky darkened and he hoped it was just the rain.

"I need to keep a fucking scuba tank under my seat or something," he muttered.

The other driver was out of his car too, gesturing angrily at him. A string of curse-words came out of his mouth, polluting the wet evening. Cameron found himself getting angry. Yeah, so he was swearing too, but that was just at the weather, it wasn't driected profanity.

"Whoa, calm down, buddy - it was just a fuck up on my part," he started to shout above the noise of the rain and traffic, "Give me your insurance details and lets get on with our lives, ok?"

"Hey, fuck you, man," the other driver said, "What the fuck are you doing? There's a green light, dick hole - wake the fuck up, yeah?"

Cameron frowned and looked the man over. He looked like the kind of guy who got off on drinking fifteen beers before going home and beating the shit out of his wife. Plus he was way too young to be speaking to a guy like Cameron that way.

All in all, he was a real shit.

So here he was. A family man, a decent guy with a kid and a wife back home waiting for the chance to see him again about to start a fight with someone half his age who couldn't let a genuine mistake drop. He recognised that guy and wondered when he'd stopped seeing him in the mirror every morning.

Cameron was just a good guy trying to get by. He didn't want a fight.

So why was everyone so intent on trying to kick his ass?

**Have you ever noticed how the same rainfall can cause a wide array of moods in people? And it's only because of the rate of speed at which it falls to the ground. One person might get annoyed because of a newly washed vehicle that they spent $10 on is getting rained on. Another will get complacent because of the steady hum & rhythm it emits. A couple inside their house might become intranced by the erotic overtones that it creates. But in the end, it's just rain. Water falling to the earth. And Cameron Jones happens to be standing outside in it. With an angry twentysomething fuck who wants to slug out a mistake.**

PD-"Listen up buddy, let's just swap our insurance info & be on our way. In case you hadn't noticed, it's pouring out here & I need to get going."

**The man, athletic in build, was wearing clothes that appeared to show another reason he might be so hostile. He appeared to be a construction worker & in this type of weather, he wasn't getting paid, which meant no beers after work & a trip straight home to have to deal with his "bitch wife" & "bratty kids".**

Man-"Oh, you need to fucking get going?!? Too bad asshole. If you'd have fucking moved your vehicle when the light turned, we wouldn't be standing out here in this rain."

**Cameron bit his lip & walked back to the tail end of the rental car.**

PD-"Great...and I didn't purchase the insurance option."

**The man walked towards Cameron & looked at the crushed in front end of his Malibu. His grill & both lights were shattered & partially laying on the quickly puddling pavement. The man turned towards Cameron, who was pulling at the back fender, hoping to somehow work some magic & fix the dent by moving the bumper back into it's proper position. He grabbed Cameron on the shoulder, causing Cameron to turn his head just in time to see the man take a swing at him. Being a wrestler had taught him many things, but one thing it hadn't, was luck. But in this case, mother nature had him covered. The man, stepping into his punch, placed his lead foot onto some broken pieces of one of the cars, causing him to stumble slightly & his punch to miss wider right than a Beckham free kick. Cameron hopped back, instinctivly raising his hands.**

PD-"What the fuck is your problem?"

**The man caught himself on the hood of his car before he fully hit the ground. He turned around, walking towards Cameron.**

Man-"My problem? MY PROBLEM? You don't fucking pay attention at a light & you wanna know what my problem is? It's you!"

**Cameron knew there would be no near misses this time. He took a preventive step back & braced himself for the man's onslaught that never came. He didn't need to turn around as he could tell by the flashing coming from behind him, that the local police had shown up. He watched the man's eyes get wide & instantly knew that something was wrong.**

PD-"What's..."

**The man's eyes stop getting wide & become like slits as he pulls something from his pocket.**

PD-"Wrong..."

**During the initial impact, Cameron's glasses were knocked off. The heavy rainfall & darkening conditions don't help his eyesight either, but he know's what the man is holding in his hand & the explosion booming out from it's chamber & the flash of fire erupting from it's barrell confirms what he believes it is.**

POP-POP-POP

**A chorus of screams & screeching tires from the 'gawkers' replaces the sound of the rain. The gunshots echoing in Cameron's ears replace all other sounds. This moment in time, Cameron will never be able to recant to anyone. He will not remember it because he likely does not know what he is doing anyway. His mind almost shuts down & his instinctual "fight or flight" coding in his brain turns on. Wrestling has it's faces & heels. Good & evil. Heroes & villains. The face declares himself a hero to the people. The villain spits on the hero's people & values and even beats him down. But the hero always stands strong & rises up, defeating the villain.**

AHHHhhhh. I've been hit!

OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN! NEED BACKUP!

**But Cameron Jones only plays a hero on an expensive tv show. And he misses his wife. And his son. He sometimes cries himself to sleep while on the road because he is alone & doesn't think he can make it anymore. And if he can't make it, then they won't be able to make it. And he hates himself for thinking that.**

OH MY GOD I'M BLEEDING. HELP ME!

POP-POP

**It only takes the first shot from the next round of gun fire to get Cameron Jones moving. He dives onto the hood of his car, sliding over it & landing with a smack onto his shoulder on the wet pavement. The 'pop' he just heard was his shoulder separating from it's socket, but the pain won't hit him until the adrenaline runs it's course & dissapates from his system. The momentum from his impact upon the ground causes his body to roll another couple of feet. He hops up to his knees & sees the downed officer. He recognizes the quickly spreading dark puddle under the man. His mind rushes to thoughts that he'll never be able to understand or possibly even remember. He wonders if the man get's paid hourly or if he's responsible for cleaning the stains out of his uniform.**

POP-POP

**Cameron Jones is shocked away from his thoughts & gets up to his feet. He begins to sprint away from the scene. He does not know where he is running. This isn't his city. It might as well be a war zone in another country. Right now Cameron Jones isn't a hero. PlausibleD doesn't exist. Cameron Jones is a husband & a dad. He misses his family. And he knows that if he stops running, he might never see them again. And while running, Cameron Jones begins to cry.**

fadeout

The rain was beginning to irritate him now; a relentless patter from the grey Florida sky that turned everything a dull monochrome except the lights of the traffic ahead of him and the neon haze of a city coming to life. Storms followed him everywhere; it was just one of those things.

The fact that he now understood why was something he found...unsettling...

Wind caught his coat as he revved the bike's engine and hurtled across the asphalt of the freeway. At this speed, the weather could barely touch him and he didn't feel the cold. He could lose himself in his building rage.

Get ready...

Abruptly, Darkness slammed on his brakes. Lost in thoughts from a thousand lifetimes ago, he hadn't noticed the stationary traffic. As he recovered himself, he frowned at the tail lights that stretched ahead of him and away into the grey curtain of rain. It was late evening; too advanced in hours for rush hour traffic, certainly.

An accident then? Something in Darkness already knew the answer to that unvoiced query. He paused for a few seconds, scanning his surroundings. The rain was getting heavier, dampening his vision, his hearing, his sense of smell and, most importantly, the supernatural Slayer Sense he relied on in times like this.

He had lost track of Cameron several minutes ago. He hadn't been expecting the man to arrive so soon and it took him too long to get down to the parking lot and onto his bike. It hadn't taken long for the older man to lose him - not that Darkness believed his evasion to be deliberate - but he knew enough to figure out that he was headed downtown, to check into his hotel and get some rest most likely.

So here he was. No belt, no friends, no family, only the burning anger he had long thought discarded, now opened up like an old war wound to plague him again: a dull, near-forgotten ache replaced with the raw, searing pain of a fresh injury.

Adrenaline coursed through him like blood pumping rhythmically from that wound. Everything else was forgotten in the face of a new agony, at once familiar and alien to him.

Darkness was enraged. Furious. Not in the way he had been after Bruce beat him and his subsequent possession, but in a way not driven by the righteous indignation of an unfair defeat. This was not about martial pride, but something more fundamental to his character.

It was the anger of being underestimated. Of being seen as an obstacle by someone who barely registered on Darkness's radar.

And there was something else there inside, but Darkness was quite ready to face that yet.

Get ready...

He twisted the throttle and peeled off from the line of traffic, taking position between the two lanes of the freeway and accelerating. Car horns marked his passing as he ignored half a dozen of Florida's traffic laws to reach the scene of the accident his well-honed intuition had told him lay ahead.

* * *

Downtown lay ahead. Cameron didn't know where he was running; didn't care. All he knew was that he had to run. Didn't know why; didn't care.

There were only two things he cared about now and his own life wasn't one of them, except by association. Without him, Kim and Zach would lose everything. Neither he nor his wife had the qualifications necessary to land a job that could provide Zach with the care he needed just to have a normal childhood; they had been dependent on Cameron's pay checks to foot the endless medical bills.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the rain, leaving him soaked in heartache, panic and plain old water in equal measure. He was running, splashing through puddles, dodging through alleyways. Dimly he realised that he'd left the picture of his family in the rental car.

Equally dimly, he felt an ache in his side beginning to form and intensifying rapidly: his lungs felt like they were burning and his heart was beating too fast. He stumbled, his foot catching on some nameless pothole or piece of detritus. Cameron pitched forward and his wrestler's instincts deserted him at exactly the wrong time as his body made contact with the hard concrete.

He couldn't speak. Air wouldn't come. He tried to roll over, but he suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder that he hadn't noticed before. The rain was torrential now, beating down on him like a million tiny, angry fists. Minute blows of all the people who had pissed him off over the years, maybe, who he had pissed off in turn and made examples of for the others that would follow them. Coming back for revenge...coming back to teach him what it felt like to be on the other end of a cocky bastard with an attitude problem...

Cameron had left part of that bastard in the Church where he made Kim his wife. He'd finally thrown what was left of his ass in the gutter in the maternity ward a decade ago as he held his infant son in his arms.

Thoughts flashed through his mind as he tried to recover, tried to roll over and get his bearings. What had gone wrong with tonight? One moment he was an innocent man just trying to get by, and now he was some kind of fugitive. He didn't deserve this, no matter what kind of person he'd been in the past. He was a victim here, a victim of a storm in more ways than he realised.

Cameron groaned as he pulled himself into his back and reached for his shoulder. It felt dislocated, but who could tell like this? He ran a large hand over his sodden shirt, moving over a gut that was a little bigger than he would have liked and checking over his body for any further injuries but found none.

No wallet though. In the car, he realised. In his panicked flight, he had lost everything. Hotel keys, cell phone, bag, title belt, the folder Shadow had given him in his office. All he had left now was an ailing body and a brain too tired and hurt from his shoulder and from the pain of the separation from his family that never went away to think straight.

Cameron tried to focus on his surroundings. The rain turned everything a dirty grey and made even the swankiest part of town look squalid. Unfortunately for Cameron Jones, the alley he now found himself in had started out squalid. He managed to push himself up into a sitting position, using a dirty wall to support his back.

He coughed and held his shoulder as the motion moved it uncomfortably, exacerbating the injury. In the wet evening, the shadows loomed menacingly from every quarter. The adrenaline wasn't coming though.

Cameron was tired, he was hurt and he was the furthest away from angry he'd ever been in his life.

To his right, someone loomed out at him.

Get ready...

"Darkness?"

* * *

"Who?"

The young cop shrugged. His hair was still damp from the storm outside and he was in no mood to explain to the detective anything more about the scene than he had in his report. They had one gunman in a cell already, one officer with a bullet lodged in his gut who might not make it through the night, one witness missing and then this guy no one seemed to know anything about in an interrogation room.

"Darkness, sir. That's the only name he'll give."

Detective Murray peered through the two-way glass at the strange figure.

"And he just showed up at the scene when Jerry went down?"

"Yeah, about five minutes after," the cop sighed, "Sir, this is all in my report...I should have gotten off-duty about a half hour ago...I'm real worried about Jerry..."

Murray turned to the cop and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder, "Alright, Tom. Go get some rest, okay?"

The officer nodded gratefully and ducked out of the observation room, leaving wet footprints behind him.

"Who the hell are you?" Murray asked himself as he returned his attention to Darkness.

The former world champion moved around the room like a caged animal. He hadn't taken off his coat and, like Tom, was leaving puddles all over the floor in his wake. They had confiscated his weapons and impounded the bike he had roared up to the crime scene on. At the moment, they had no reason to think he was anything but some weirdo.

Still, Murray had a hunch that he was involved somehow. He sighed and nodded to his partner to follow him as he entered the room containing Darkness, Styrofoam coffee-cup in hand.

Darkness turned slowly as the two police officers entered, but said nothing. Unless Murray missed his guess, this was not the first time this character had run foul of the law.

He took a seat while his partner leant against the doorframe, eyeing Darkness carefully. Murray produced a number of documents and slapped them down on the table. "Let's see," he began, leafing through the papers, "Darkness, is it?"

The man who managed to dominate the room simply by standing in it nodded, still refusing to speak.

"You wanna take a seat, Mr. Darkness?"

He shook his head.

"Alright then." Murray sighed and leant back in his chair. "I'm Detective Murray, this is my partner, Detective Randall. We were wondering if you might help us with some of our inquirers regarding the shooting of our colleague today."

"I was not present for that," Darkness finally said, speaking slowly as if unsure how much to reveal.

"He can talk!" Randall exclaimed with a wry look at Murray who smirked in return.

"But you rolled up only five minutes later, apparently from nowhere..."

"I was looking for someone else. A...friend of mine..."

Murray caught the hesitation. A police officer of some thirty years, he was able to read people better than any college-educated psychologist.

"Right. So you're looking for your...‘friend'...on your bike with your guns and your...what was it, Pete?"

"A full size replica of a medieval broadsword," Randall chimed in.

"It's not a replica," Darkness told him with a cold look.

"Whatever. Now, even if you had the correct documentation to hand, I'm not even certain the current concealed carry laws cover five foot swords and as for your guns..."

Randall reached behind him and produced one of the weapons sealed in a plastic bag. In the man's hands it looked huge and bizarre, ornamented as it was with golden etchings bearing holy symbols.

"...we can't even begin to figure out what these are supposed to be."

Murray's mind went back to the quick report ballistics had handed him ten minutes earlier. The stopping power of a desert eagle and he was carrying two, each one custom built to be held in a single-handed grip, one for the left and one for the right. Firing two of these ought to blow his hands off.

"So let's review shall we? A cop gets shot, a witness goes missing and then you arrive with weapons we can't begin to classify minus appropriate licences - if they even existed for what you're carrying - and you have nothing to tell us?"

"I'm not involved in the shooting of your colleague," Darkness said, "I wasn't even there."

"Nonetheless, you're behaviour easily falls into the realm of what we in the law enforcement business call ‘suspicious'. How about you tell us why you're here in Florida?"

Murray knew, of course. They'd run the requisite checks on this guy already and apparently he was some kind of pro wrestler. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know anything more than that. No name, no address, a bank account that was set up the day he joined his current employers registered to "MR D ARKNESS". As far as Murray could work out, this guy had popped into existence about eighteen months ago.

At least, that's what he thought before they looked through the stuff they'd found in the missing guy's rental car. A bag, a wallet, a cell phone, hotel keys, a picture of a wife and kid and a manila folder marked with a single word.

Yeah, they'd figured out a while ago that Cameron Jones was the man they were looking for. All that was left was the missing piece of the puzzle standing in front of them.

Murray slapped the folder on the table in front of him, "How about we have a look through some of this, Darkness?"

Darkness looked at the folder and frowned. Fire shone in his eyes and his fists clenched.

Get ready...

A rampage is about to begin...

**Murray sat on the other side of the two-way glass. He stared at the man who gave off an ominous presence. He was scared of Darkness but didn't know why. And instead of let it eat at him in public, he walked next door, giving the standard "we'll let you think about it" bullshit response. Darkness sat at the table, alone in the room as the fluorescent lights flicked, brightening & darkening the room in slight degrees at random intervals. He pulled his glance away from the manilla folder up to the window & stared, knowing Randall & Murray were standing there, unsure what to do with him or what bullshit charges they could bring up to hold him longer.**
=================

**The dingy washed out alleyway where Cameron Jones sits continues to offer no help or cover for the injured wrestler. The rain has let up some, but it still falls hard enough to register sound in his eardrums. The steps of an approaching...something...are heard through the rain. Cameron turns his head towards the sound that grows louder. Through near-sighted & sore eyes he tries to peer at who grows near.**

PD-"Darkness?"

**Maria Flores is 24 years old and lives in apartment 4A. She makes $250 a week as a seamstress in a squallid factory a few blocks from here. Her ex-husband, now deceased, worked hard enough at citizenship that before he passed away, he was granted it & when he died, she did what she had to do to help afford her little slice of Americana. His death is listed as a debilatating work disability & she collects SSI for it. Today she would have been working, but she received her first of many monthly checks in the mail. The $769 was more than she was receiving but a lot less than she expected. At least she would be able to stop sucking the super's dick in exchange for the rest of her rent each month. Her window is partially open to allow the breeze that carries the fresh smell of the cleansing rain into the apartment. She sits in a chair on the other side of the room, away from the window. The Counting Crows play in the background.**

I am colorblind

**Down in the alley, a group of young men circle Cameron Jones. They say things to each other & at him in a language he does not recognize.**

Coffee black and egg white

**Maria stares at the check as a single tear falls down her cheek & leans her head back in the chair, allowing the check to fall from her fingertips. It floats down to the carpet, landing quietly.**

Pull me out from inside

**Cameron slowly tries to stand up, knowing that they want something, whether it be to rob him or beat him or worse.**

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am.....

**A quick swing of a bat connects with his knee, knocking Cameron back down to the wet alleys waiting grasp.**
========================

**Back in the police station, Randall & Murray walk into the interrogation room where Darkness remains seated. Randall leans up against the closed door while Murray slides the chair out, turns it around & sits down, facing Darkness while straddling the back of the chair.**

Murray-"So..."

**Murray places his hand on top of the folder with Darkness' label on it. He spins it around & looks up at Darkness.**

Murray-"It appears that you have some very interesting..."

Randall-"And rich."

**Murray grins & nods.**

Murray-"And rich enemies."

**Darkness looks out the top of his eyes without lifting his head any.**

Darkness-"Their economic standing does not matter to me. I measure worth based on how full their soul is."

**Murray glances over at Randall who raises his eyebrows at him, then lowers them, steeling his outward appearance.**

Murray-"So, let's forget about all of this... car accident & cop shooting that you so...conveniently showed up at."

**Darkness knew the next words coming from Murray's mouth & mouthed them himself as the fell off his lips.**

Murray-"What can you tell us about Shadow & this Infinity group?"
====================

taffy stuck and tongue tied

**The group of boys begin talking turns kicking at him. One boy reaches down & feels his pockets for money, keys, anything they can claim as a souvenier while another one of the boys, wearing steel toed boots like the construction worker, kicks at Cameron exploding two of his ribs.**

Stutter shook and uptight

**A noise from out in the alley is not normally a cause for Maria to get up & walk to the window, but in this rain it does spark an instance of cusriosity. She opens her eyes & leans forward in her chair & slowly stands up, wiping the tears off her face.**

Pull me out from inside

**They find nothing in his pockets & begin stomping at him. Even in his injured state, he is able to deflect some, but not all of the blows. He can feel his skin split open in places where they strike him.**

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am.....

**Maria gets to the window & sees the angry pack of kids beating on someone. She yells from the window & they turn their faces towards her, their faces almost looking demonic for a second before they run, disappearing down the alley into the rain. She reaches to her chest & gingerly places her fingers around the cross that lays upon her skin. She looks away from where the group ran & sees the broken & bleeding body of a man.**

fine
==========================

**Darkness remained seated at the table, staring straight ahead. Unblinking. Unmoving. After a few moments of this, the intense quiet snapped inside Randall, who lunged at the table, smashing both fists onto the table top, causing Murray to jump. Darkness never moved.**

Randall-"Listen you goth fuck! Tell us what you fucking know or so help me god I'll fucking throw you in the pen with guys that'll make you wish you'd fucking cooperated."

**Darkness slowly turned his head to allow his face to become parralell with Randall's. He leaned in ever so slightly.**

Darkness-"If God wants me in the pen with those guys, I'd already be there & they'd already be dealt with."

**The calm chill sent out by him made Murray want to vomit, but against his bodies wishes, he held it down. Darkness lookd over at Murray.**

Darkness-"Now will be the only time I ask you nicely to let me go."
========================

**Maria ran down the stairs as if he building were on fire. She did not understand the reasons why. She had convinced herself on the trip down that the man was either a vagrant or somehow had deserved the beating that was delivered to him. But when she started to lean away from the window, she knows she was told by a voice she did not recognize to go to him & care for him.**

I am covered in skin

**The alarm to sound the fire exit had been removed months earlier. Opening it was no issue to her. She pulled on the garbage bin to lean it against the door so she would not be locked out in the alley as the rain fell.**

No one gets to come in

**As she slowly surveyed the scene, she could see the blood pouring from the mans head, saturating the alley that drank it up like the rain falling from the heavens.**

Pull me out from inside

**The gash to his forehead would require stitches, but she had no vehicle & no phone. And most 911 calls from the corner pay-phone went unanswered. She had needle & thread upstairs and after all, she was a seamstress. As she crouched down next to him, she saw bruising on his abdomen from where his shirt had been ripped open during the attack. Her brother had been a boxer in Cuba, but a dirty fight doctor allowed him into the ring with the same marks...bruises from broken ribs & the further damage caused by his opponent caused internal bleeding that took him from her, finally giving her the strength to leave for America.**

I am folded and unfolded and unfolding I am.....

**He slowly opens both eyes, but no sight comes to the one. A heavy throbbing convinces him that the eye works, but some damage has been suffered to his head & the blood dins his sight. The other eye allows him to see a beautiful Spanish looking young woman leaning over him. Her clothes make him think of a thousand hotel maids he has passed in the numerous places he has stayed.**

colorblind

**He reaches up to her, at this point, not caring who she is or what she may be planning on doing to him or for who she would be doing it for.**

Coffee black and egg white

**Cameron places as much weight onto her as he needs to, to be able to stand up. The rain stings his head & tastes dirty to him. Maria struggles a little under him, but she is able to shift his weight slowly & gets her arm around him. They head towards the alley door.**

Pull me out from inside

**They slowly climb the stairs. He blacks out every once in a while, but his body keeps him moving until they reach the 6th floor. She walks him in through the door & gravity grabs him, causing him to fall from her arms & collapse onto the floor in a bloody & rain soaked mess.**

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am.....fine
==========================

**As Darkness walks from the police station, he checks his weapons, making sure they are in the condition he handed them over in. Sliding the broad sword into it's sheath, he looks up at the colorless sky and his face contorts slightly at a question itching at the back of his mind.**

Darkness-"Why are you crying?"

**He scans the clouds & sees off in the distance a spot...an anomoly...where the rain appears to be falling even harder. He nods & lightly licks his lips as he flips the collar up on his jacket and heads out into the impound lot for his bike.**
=========================

**Maria has finally been able to roll Cameron onto his back & propped his head up with a pillow. As he lies on the floor, the rai pelting the window causes her to run to it, closing it completly. She glances outside briefly before accepting the fact that at this moment, it's fruitless for her to try & see beyond the pounding rain fall out her window.**

I am fine

**She walks past Cameron & eneters her bathroom. Running tap water can be heard & then just as quickly shuts off. She returns to the room, ignoring the chill she feels through her soaked dress & kneels next to him with a warm washcloth. She gentley slides it over the gash on his forehead.**

I am fine

**She lies the washcloth on his face, grabs a blanket off her couch & slowly begins to undress him.**

fadeout

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. Isn't it strange how your body knows time has passed, even though you weren't conscious to observe it? When you're a kid, you always tell yourself that when you go to sleep on Christmas Eve, the next thing you know is waking up on Christmas morning, but it never quite seems to work out that way.

Cameron knew he had been unconscious for hours. His sleep, induced by stress, pain and good old fashioned blows to the head, had been dreamless, and yet he knew that time had ticked by slowly without him, leaving him behind in his suffering.

He didn't know where he was, but then he expected that. He stayed in a different hotel every night and he was used to that few seconds of confusion every morning when his eyes flicked open. But this was different...

Cameron was in an apartment. It looked like two or three rooms, shabby and ill-furnished. He was in the living room-cum-kitchen-cum-everything else not a bedroom or bathroom on a couch under an old blanket. A damp washcloth sat near his face, resting on the arm against which his neck was wedged uncomfortably. There were taller guys in the fed, but Cameron Jones was still a fair bit over six foot in height and the average couch - at least in the price bracket in which this particular specimen fell - could not easily accommodate his prone form.

He then realised that he was naked.

Hmmm...that definitely wasn't right. The last thing he remembered was the shadow looming out of the alley at him, a few garbled words and then...pain. Blackness. And now this.

He moved to check himself over, but tears almost came to his eyes as he moved and triggered an intense pain in his chest. He took a shallow breath and realised he had broken ribs and maybe a dozen other nagging injuries besides. After twelve years on the road and being beaten up more times than he could easily count, a vicious beating from an unknown assailant didn't do him any favours.

One word floated into his mind from the encounter.

"Darkness..." he said aloud, his voice coming hoarse in his throat.

"You kept saying that in your sleep."

Cameron tried to turn around as quickly as the shock of the sudden interruption to his thoughts by a very Spanish, very female voice demanded, but could only manage a stuttering shift in position and a crane of his aching neck to look around behind him.

She was young. A little more than half Cameron's age, he guessed. Dark hair pooled on her shoulders and framed an olive-skinned face that would have been beautiful if not for the dark lines under darker eyes and the hard lines of though work and an even tougher personal life.

Nonetheless, she was enchanting.

Cameron felt himself redden. He tried to recall anything at all about this compromising situation but his mind was blank. He glanced down at himself, embarrassed and having no idea what to say. He hadn't been naked in a room with a woman besides his wife (and a female doctor on one painfully embarrassing visit to surgery after some forgotten injury) in some twenty years. He wasn't sure what the etiquette for this situation was...

The young Spanish woman saved his embarrassment by nodding towards a low, metal clothes horse standing by a cheap three-bar fire on which were suspended his clothes. He saw that they were sodden, filthy and bloodied.

"Ah," he said, still not sure what was going on.

She came to his rescue a second (third?) time as she crossed the room and crouched down close to him. "How are you feeling?"

Her English was good, but heavily accented. Cameron didn't know where she was from and wondered if it would be rude to ask - was he prejudiced if he couldn't tell the difference between a Mexican and a Colombian? Dimly he realised that thinking something like that was another sign of his increasing age.

He pulled the blanket around himself, even more conscious of his nudity than he had been before. She looked at him expectantly and it took a few seconds of awkward silence before he remembered she had asked him a question.

"Uh...how am I feeling?"

"Yes," she nodded. She seemed to have adjusted her way of speaking to compensate for his perceived concussion - or maybe she just thought he was a little stupid.

"I...I don't know..." yeah, ok, maybe that didn't do much to dispel her opinion of his intellect, "I mean...I don't remember much..."

"Some gang beat you up," she explained, "I got you inside and cleaned you up. I was going to try and stitch some of your wounds closed but I don't think my sewing kit is...uh...clean...? Pure?"

She seemed to be struggling for the word and Cameron interjected, "Sanitary - you mean it's not sanitary enough to use for medical purposes."

She nodded gratefully, "Yes. They hurt you...my brother he was a boxer. Your ribs..."

"Broken. I know."

Memories began to swim back into Cameron's head as he talked to the woman. He seemed to remember seeing her face last night and, as she had told how he'd come to be here, he knew the truth of her words.

Another memory came back and he reached up to his forehead. He felt the ugly wound and the sticky texture of a recent scab.

"I cleaned it. It will heal, I think, but you must see a doctor."

Cameron shook his head. "No, I'm involved in some...things..."

The events of the pervious evening swam back into his mind: the accident, the gun shot, the downed cop. He could be wanted as an accomplice or something. But he'd done nothing wrong...he had nothing to fear.

Except...

Two things told him to keep a low profile: first, he was starting to wonder where things were going with Infinity, if he was honest. Shadow was a legitimate businessman, but rumours had been flying around about his clandestine practices for as long as S-Mart had been the market leader in...well...everything. If he was dragged into a police station, he wasn't 100% sure that he hadn't done anything wrong.

And then there was the other thing. He was scared; scared for his health if he was out there on his own. Frankly, he didn't trust even the likes of Shadow with his unlimited resources, Highone with his unlimited ferocity or even Titanium Insomniac with his unlimited brilliance to protect him from Darkness.

"I should lay low for a while...uh..." he looked around, not sure how much he should impose on the young woman.

She extended a hand, "My name is Maria," she said, "You can stay here for a while if you want."

"Thanks," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it weakly, "I'm Cameron."

"Nice to meet you, Cameron," she told him with a smile as she straightened and crossed the room, "It's good to have a man around the place again."

Cameron opened his mouth to say something but no words came out and he sank back into the couch, pulling the blanket tightly around him. As he drifted off back to sleep, he avoided asking himself why he hadn't mentioned anything about his wife to Maria.

* * *

"Why'd you let him go?"

Murray looked around at Randall and made a non-committal noise.

"Huh?"

Murray took a sip from his cup of coffee and shrugged. "We got nothing on him."

"What about the stuff in the folder?"

"Rumours, hearsay and outright lies for the most part. He looks like a nutcase, not a criminal to me."

"If he is a nutcase, then he's one you just let walk free with two guns and a sword. Couldn't you even get him on the lack of licenses?"

"Not without more paperwork than I feel like dealing with at this time of night," Murray sighed as he sat down heavily and leafed through the folder for the umpteenth time, "Besides, he has some powerful friends."

"Yeah?"

Murray pulled out a photograph and held it up, "Look familiar?"

Randall took the picture from Murray and frowned, "Is that Rachel Hunter?"

"The very same. Former FBI turned pro wrestler, now missing-in-action as far as anyone knows."

"How does this Darkness guy know her?"

"Professionally, but she also bailed him out of a jail cell about seven months ago. Then we have the story of a spree of violence and vandalism across Kentucky that his employers were able to cover the cost of. Darkness has been in some pretty hot water a few times already."

"I'll bet..."

"And that's not all," Murray continued, "Did you catch his accent?"

"British?"

Murray nodded. "I put in a call to our colleagues across the pond and asked if they had anything on him."

"And?"

"And this." Murray reached across his desk and handed Randall another file. He let his partner scan the details for a few seconds before he continued, "The guy has a list of offences as long as my arm - some of them pretty serious - but a court ruled he was insane."

Randall laughed, "Well I can believe that..."

"But the story doesn't end there - that came from the expert witness assessment of a woman he later married."

"You're kidding..."

"Nope. The next thing we have on him is a 911...uh...999...call about a house fire in which his wife died. He has some counselling, the usual crap, and then drops off the face of the earth."

"Is that so?"

"Yup, and then suddenly he's on TV."

Randall shook his head as he returned the folder to Murray. "So we have a legally insane guy with a criminal record as thick as War and Peace who might even be an arsonist and murderer and you let him walk out of the door with enough firepower to take down an elephant?"

"Yeah, an elephant, or maybe just this guy..." Another photo landed on the desk showing an African-American man in a distinctive mask. "Powerful enemies - like this guy and his cronies."

"Infinity?"

Murray nodded.

"Why are we wasting time on this wrestling shit, Steve?" Randall asked as he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Does this look like ‘wrestling shit' to you?" Murray asked as he drew his finger down the pile of documents that had been in Shadow's manila folder a few minutes earlier, "This guy is involved with something big; bigger than we know, maybe. I wanna know who he is and who his enemies are and the only way I can see to do that is turn him loose and keep an eye on him."

Randall nodded, but looked unconvinced.

"I've put in a few calls and, unless I miss my guess, Darkness is making a beeline for Cameron Jones. When he finds him, we'll be there too to lock up both their asses."

"You think Darkness is going to come quietly?"

"He'll have to unless he wants a gut full of lead," Murray smirked.

Randall didn't feel like telling his partner that he wasn't certain even that was going to stop the man they'd just released back into the city and that if the look in his eye when he'd clenched his fists was anything to go by, he wouldn't give a damn about taking out anyone who got in his way.

The wind roared past Darkness's ears, a constant enraged howling permeating every one of his other senses with its intensity. He didn't care. Being held prisoner always fuelled his anger in a way that he was unable to properly articulate or reconcile with the duty and sense of responsibility towards human beings that defined him as a person.

Being caged...it was like the paralysis he had experienced at the hands of Shogun's Brilliant Jade nerve strike, or the similar moves utilised by his servants Malthus and Murmur.

Odd. He hadn't thought about them in a long while now. The resolution of his experiences with Shogun had been so intense, so cataclysmic, that he'd never given any thought to what had become of the man's demonic allies. Dimly, he wondered if they might still be at large, somewhere out there...

Darkness shook his head, nearly futile at the speed at which he travelled, in order to dismiss these tangential thoughts from his mind. He was angry; so, so angry. Being imprisoned and questioned by people who would probably be dead without the sacrifices he had made was an affront to him and his way of life. Darkness was a warrior...no...he was the warrior - the sum of all heroes that had come before, the ultimate extrapolation of the human will to survive and to protect - and he must be free to pursue what aims he desired.

He did not abide by the rules; he made them.

Darkness chose not to question the part his anger played in his decisions. He chose not to think about how pursuing Cameron Jones for reasons of personal integrity and satisfaction might conflict with his self-appointed duty. Those questions were too difficult right now.

Shaking his head again, he twisted the throttle and accelerated down the freeway. Darkness still didn't know how he would find Cameron Jones; he simply knew that he would.

He narrowed his eyes. The patch of storm he had noticed earlier had remained in the same position, despite the tumultuous skies.

"Bingo."

* * *

"Thanks..."

The cup was warm in his hands, but not too hot to hold. Slowly he lifted the cocoa to his lips and sipped briefly. He smiled and nodded at Maria.

"It's good," was all he said. Cameron was still strangely nervous around the beautiful woman who had taken him in. Kindly, she had lent him some of her late husbands clothes that she had hung on to - Cameron was not in a sardonic enough mood to suggest that it was just in case an injured pro. Wrestler stumbled through her door.

Besides, if she had been keeping them for a wrestler, she was sadly mistaken about how many pounds the camera added. Cameron moved his arm uncomfortably against the tight fit of the too-small t-shirt, but didn't show his discomfort.

"How long has it been?" he asked a few minutes later after sipping a few more times from the mug.

"Since what...?"

"Since..." he looked down, unsure of how to phrase the difficult question. The hallmarks of a male presence were everywhere in the small apartment as well as a small photo-frame with a picture of a young couple; one was Maria, the other a young man of roughly the same age and ethnicity. A small crucifix hung from it. Cameron floundered, but Maria guessed what he was asking.

"A few months now."

"Is that all?" Cameron asked, a little too fast. He was not sure why he had expected it to be longer. He tried to cover up his impoliteness, but, again, floundered. "I'm not so good with...well...you know...emotional stuff..." he finished weakly.

She nodded, seeming to understand. "It was an accident on the docks. Someone they didn't...didn't...uh..." she moved her hands in a twisting motion as if manipulating a rope, trying to mime the word that her lack of English and her abundance of grief prevented her from finding.

"Um...tie? Secure?"

She nodded, "Yes. A crate. It fell..." she trailed off and glanced away, rubbing her hands across her cheeks, ineffectually smearing away tears.

"Hey," Cameron reached out a hand, but Maria mover her shoulder away and shook her head as she stood up. She crossed the room and stood motionless, looking out of the small window for a few seconds. Finally, she turned around and spoke again.

"You have a family, yes?"

Cameron nodded slowly.

"I saw your ring," she pointed.

He glanced down at his wedding band almost guiltily.

"And the other one," she added.

Confused, Cameron looked to his other hand and saw the new addition to his small collection of personal jewellery. He'd almost forgotten about them.

"That's...that's not from my wife..."

"You have other women who give you rings?"

There was an unspoken question there and he shook his head quickly. "No...this, this is from some friends of mine." He brought the ring closer and observed the detail. The colouring was somewhat mottled as the metal used to forge it was a mixture of the silver, metal and bronze of the old 411fed Intercontinental Championship belt. On the front of the sovereign ring the lazy eight infinity symbol was engraved, leaving his group affiliation in no doubt.

Funny, with everything that had happened, wrestling had been the furthest thing from his mind.

With that thought, everything came rushing back to him. Infinity...Darkness...

His eyes flicked to the door.

"You're safe here," he heard Maria say, but he knew she was wrong.

Get ready...

The door seemed to explode inwards as a black thunderbolt crashed through and rolled to its feet before them. Cameron was already up, his legs still feeling weak beneath him, but he was doubled over in pain a second later as Darkness buried a knee in his gut with a savage ferocity.

"Ooof..."

Two gloved hands grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him upright. Steel-grey eyes bore into him, a spark of fire in the depths of their pupils that penetrated Cameron in a way he didn't fully understand.

"I am not an obstacle to be overcome. I am not a problem for you to simply remove when convenient."

Cameron did not know how to respond to the outlandish statements, so he did what he did best and kicked back, catching Darkness between the legs with his boot.

Darkness staggered back and dropped Cameron heavily onto the couch. The former champion gritted his teeth and shook his head. "You'll have to do better than that," he growled, diving towards the man he saw as his enemy.

As Maria screamed, registering only dully in the back of Cameron's mind, the couch tipped back under the weight of the two wrestlers. Darkness flipped over onto his back but kipped up effortlessly as Cameron tried to struggle to his feet.

Darkness's roar was primal as he grabbed the back of Cameron's borrowed shirt and heaved him upwards. Quickly, he delivered a series of hard jabs to the stomach before throwing him over the overturned couch and immediately following him with an agile jump over it. Darkness planted himself over Cameron and clenched his fists.

Fire raged in his eyes.

Cameron felt panic. In his injured and surprised state, he was no match for Darkness and he knew it. Tears welled in his eyes, not out of fear for his own safety but out of a stark horror for what his injury, maybe even his death, would mean for his family and even for Maria.

Maria...

She was the focus he needed right now, the small, innocent life he had to protect here and now. If he could just...

"Leave him alone!"

Darkness's attention leap from Cameron to the small woman who now stood before him, steak knife in hand. He tilted his head quizzically, "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare!" Maria exclaimed in a voice far more shrill that she intended.

"Trust me, you aren't a patch on my worst nightmare," Darkness assured her.

"Just let him go, ok?!"

Darkness shook his head, "You don't understand..."

"Understand what?"

She had balls; Cameron had to give her that.

"Understand that I..." Darkness paused, and Cameron perceived that the man who stood over him seemed to be considering his words, or perhaps the very motives behind them.

"I'll tell you what I do understand," Maria continued, her voice growing in volume and strength, "I understand that Cameron is a good man...with a family...and that you have come here to kill him maybe because you can't understand that he is just trying to survive...to feed himself and the people he loves, just like everyone else. Everyone except you, anyway."

"Except....me...?" Darkness's voice was hoarse and quiet.

"You break my door, you beat up my friend, you come here and fight because you are heartless, because you want revenge or..." she struggled to find the word again, moving her hands in a circular motion.

"Satisfaction," Darkness said, quietly.

Cameron and Maria stared at him.

"I came here seeking personal satisfaction, wanting to hurt someone I felt had underestimated me, someone I felt had..."

A sudden crash interrupted Darkness and all three of the room's occupants stared out of the door that Darkness had just burst through. Seconds later, the room was filled with half a dozen uniformed men in riot gear.

"GET DOWN! GET DOWN! EVERYBODY DOWN!"

Maria screamed again as Darkness stared around in shock. "You set me up," he hissed, throwing Cameron an accusing glance.

"I...I never...I..."

Darkness let out a low growl in his throat as he stepped away from Cameron and looked at each of the SWAT team in turn. In one swift motion he shrugged off his coat, dropping his sword and guns to the floor with it.

"Alright, if this is how it's going to be..."

Darkness caught the first nightstick aimed at his skull and twisted it from the cop's grip, at the same time kicking out and knocking the man standing opposite him to the floor. As one, the team moved to attack their target and Darkness dropped another cop with an elbow to the sternum.

The first tazer barb pierced Darkness's flesh and he roared in pain, almost dropping to one knee. "Not...good...enough..." he said through gritted teeth, ripping the barb from his skin. Another pierced his back and he stumbled forward with a second bellow.

Maria's eyes were wide as Darkness shook his head and shrugged off the second electric shock with a grimace, pulling away from his attacked sharply and pulling the barb from his body again.

A nightstick drove into his gut and Darkness grabbed it, pulling the cop closer and head butting him, shattering the Perspex of his helmet. A third tazer shot finally brought the former champion to his knees but he continued to fight, burying his fist in another cop's groin and felling him. He turned, still on his knees, still with the third tazer barb in his flesh and grabbed the final SWAT team member's leg, pulling him to the ground. Furiously, he mounted the cop and drove an elbow into his face, smashing another helmet. Tazer shots rang out again and Darkness's roared in agony but his assault was unrelenting.

Finally, as a second wave of cops entered the apartment, Darkness collapsed, the prone forms of six heavily armed police officers around him.

A rampage...is about to begin...