Good ol fashion cage match where you win by escaping the cage or pinning/submitting your opponent. Hardy had possibly the weirdest stip so this cage match should be a little refreshing. And the monster Drakus has already had to deal with steel in his matches.

There couldn't have been more than 100 people in the tiny venue that night. But David Hardy was still nervous, pacing in the cramped, putrid locker room area while he waited for his match. Sure, the crowd might be small, but they were fired up to see some live wrestling, and he was eager to give each and every one of them their money's worth. After all, this could be the day, the day some dirtsheet writer or friend of a big time promoter saw David Hardy wrestle and decided to make him famous.

David tried to talk to his opponent beforehand, work out some spots, but the big guy just sat their, face hidden by his long stringy hair. He grunted something, then glared at Hardy vacantly until the rookie got the hint and left him alone. Somebody said he'd been with 411 Fed for a while, but got kicked out. David thought he was like the other guys who used to work for the big promotions, all about respect, wanting him to prove he deserved to hang with them. Maybe it was the dyed hair and Hardy Boys style outfit -- it put some guys off, made them think he was a poser. They never thought that after they saw him work, though.

On the way to the ring, David was still smiling. He climbed the ropes and posed for the fans just like his brother, then waited for his opponent. He really hoped he'd have a chance to do his big move, a swanton bomb off the top rope. The big man came out, head still down. He threw his trenchcoat on the ground and slowly climbed into the ring, barely even looking at David. Hey, the guy was a pro, he knew what he was doing, right?

As soon as the bell rung, David found out how wrong he was. The first clothesline hit him like a baseball bat to the face. He felt his jaw swelling almost immediately. The big man didn't lose a step worrying about it. He practically wrenched David's arm out of the socket whipping him into the corner, then rammed into him at full speed. He tried to say something, but couldn't catch a breath. A sudden, sloppy overhead belly-to-belly suplex nearly brought David down on his neck.

He'd been roughed up in the ring before by veteran wrestlers testing his determination, but that night was different. For the first time, David Hardy was afraid. With that suplex, he realized that his opponent didn't give a damn about his safety. A couple of stomps to the ribs confirmed it. He didn't pull back. It was like he'd wanted to break David's ribs while he was lying on the mat.

What happened next was a blur. David fought back desperately. His sudden burst of engergy had stunned the big man, and it bought him time to shoot himself off the ropes and hit and enzuguiri that brought his opponent to his knees. For a minute, the crowd was on its feet. The pop was amazing, it was a high that made him forget what kind of fight he was in for a minute. David went to the ropes and started climbing, heart still set on showing them that swanton bomb.

He should have known better. The big guy drilled him in the gut with a hard right, pulled him down, and started punching him over and over. He put his hands up, but it didn't do much good. Someone tried to pull them apart, probably the ref, but the big guy shoved him away. Before he knew it, the big guy had David in the air, gorilla pressed over his head. A split second later, the ground was coming towards him fast. The thin gym mats around the ring didn't do much good. David curled into a fetal position as the bell rang. A half dozen of the guys came out from the back and stopped the big guy as he climbed out of the ring. There was a lot of screaming he couldn't make out. A few minutes later, a couple wrestlers helped him to the back.

The promoter was an old hardass, but even he came back and apologized for what happened. David got a whole $300 for the show, more than twice what he expected. The money was gone almost right away, but he never forgot the lesson. Out there in the ring, it wasn't always kayfabe, and you couldn't count on the other guy to watch out for you. And sometimes you had to fight like your life was on the line, because it was.

As Lita quietly slips into the room and approaches David from behind, she sees him scribbling on a TCW publicity photo of Drakus with a black sharpie. For some reason, he seems to be drawing long hair on the bald wrestler's head.

Lita: "Uh, David, is something wrong ...?"

David stops and holds up the crudely modified picture.

David: "See? I thought I knew this guy from somewhere!"

Lita takes the photo, looks at if for a minute, then shakes her head.

Lita: "I don't get it."

David: "I had a match with this guy, before I signed with 411."

Lita: "And ...?"

David: "You should've seen the bruises. Had to pass up shows for a couple weeks after."

Lita wraps her arms around David.

Lita: "That's too bad. What was this guy's name?"

David: "Drakus."

David feels Lita tense up.

Lita: "Matt mentioned that name ... said some of the guys from OMEGA had matches with a wrestler who used to be with 411 called Drakus, real psycho who liked hurting guys in the ring."

David: "Yeah, that's him all right."

Lita: "Be careful ..."

Hardy cuts off Lita.

David: "Please, you've beaten one dumb musclehead you've beaten all of 'em. Besides, in case you didn't notice, I've got backup."

Lita gives him a dirty look.

Lita: "You mean the guys I'm supposed to hide from?"

David winces at the accusation.

David: "C'mon, I just need some time to figure out how to tell 'em."

Lita: "Just tell them."

David: "It's not that easy."

Another dirty look says "Yes, it is." David puts a hand on Lita's arm, gently massaging her skin.

David: "Just a little while longer."

Lita is about to respond when the door begins swinging open. Hardy practically pushes her into the corner behind the door. TCW road agent Jason Fragg pokes his head inside.

Fragg: "The commissioner wants to see you now."

David: "Yeah, yeah, keep your combat boots on!"

He slams the door in Fragg's face and turns back to Lita, sighing with relief.

David: "False alarm ..."

A stinging slap to the face cuts him off.

Lita: "Jerk!"

She storms out of the room, past a slightly puzzled Fragg. Hardy rubs his now throbbing cheek.

Fragg: "So ... ready to go?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SAN JUAN

Pryce: "This is absurd!"

Drakus grunts and continues to rub his neck.

Pryce: "You should have seen a doctor after your match in the Bahamas."

Drakus touches the bandage on his forehead, the spot where he was busted open by the cage in his match with Titanium Insomniac and DeadZone.

Drakus: "It's fine."

Pryce: "And the ribs?"

Drakus: "Fine."

It's a lie, and not a very convincing one. Pryce has already seen the massive, ugly bruise left by TI's sledgehammer shot, a lasting reminder of his confrontation with the legendary 411 world champion and Infinity member.

Pryce: "You should at least have an examination, let a doctor take an X-ray."

Drakus: "Doesn't matter. I'm gonna be at the show, and I'm gonna win."

Pryce: "Wouldn't you at least like to know who your opponent is, and what ridiculously violent stipulation your next bout will be fought under?"

Drakus shrugs. After a hangman match and a house of horrors match, he's numb to the prospect of yet another sick stip, despite the mounting injuries sustained so far in his pursuit of the Majestic Cup.

Pryce: "Your opponent will be another member of Infinty -- David Hardy. As for the match, it will be a standard cage match."

Drakus: "A cage? That's all?"

Pryce: "Something for which you should be exceedingly thankful."

Drakus recalls the impact of his head on the steel of the cage at Havoc. Thankful isn't the word he'd use.

Drakus: "Infinity again?"

Pryce: "Unfortunately."

Drakus: "Why?"

Pryce: "Because Titanium Insomniac took you to the edge in your last match."

Drakus: "You too."

That gets a nervous laugh from Pryce, who would rather forget his uncharacteristic loss of control provoked by Insomniac's verbal barbs.

Drakus: "Anyway, I won, so what's the big deal?"

Pryce: "Allow me to provide a visual aid."

From his jacket pocket, Pryce produces an iPod. He selects a video clip and hands it to Drakus. He watches the members of Infinity attacking Darkness, Dante and Acolyte en masse, overwhelming them with superior numbers and inflicting several minutes of punishment before unceremoniously dumping them out of the ring.

Drakus: "So? Looks good to me."

Watching his erstwhile partner Dante take a merciless beating is always enough to perk Drakus up. After all, his whole reason for wanting to win the Majestic Cup is to do the same to Dante in a TCW ring with the world title on the line.

Pryce: "There were three of them, and they were unable to fend off Infinity's attack. You on the other hand are quite alone, a much easier target. And even before his association with Infinity, Mr. Hardy was never known for a belief in fair play."

Drakus: "Let 'em come."

Pryce sighs and rubs his temples.

Pryce: "That is idiotic bravado. If they come in numbers, you will lose."

Drakus: "Then maybe I should pick 'em off one by one."

Pryce: "The only one you should concern yourself with is Mr. Hardy. He enjoys baiting his opponents. Don't let him goad you into an ambush, no matter what he says. Hardy may not be as physically imposing as the Insomniac, but he is quite cunning, and has a violent nature."

Drakus: "You don't think I should pay him a late night visit too?"

Pryce: "Not unless we can be quite sure his allies are otherwise occupied, and that may take time."

Pryce opens his attache case and hands Drakus the file on his latest opponent.

Pryce: "In the meantime, I suggest you review this dossier."

Drakus opens the folder and immediately finds a picture of Hardy.

Drakus: "Looks like a little punk bitch."

Pryce: "Don't, Drakus. You are too close to your goal, don't allow yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security because of the way your opponent chooses to dress."

Drakus continues to stare at the photo of Hardy, perched on the top rope of a 411 ring. Something about him seems vaguely familiar.

Pryce: "And besides, how many championships have you held so far?"

Drakus snarls at his attorney's snide reminder that he has never held a title in 411, ECF or the new TCW.

Drakus: "Just wait."

But first, he has another member of Infinity to swat aside.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as David Hardy sets down his bags in the hotel room in San Juan, he immediately checks to see if there's a message for him from Lita. Nothing. Not at the hotel, not on his cell, nothing since the night of the show.

David: "Dammit!"

He kicks the wall, putting a dent in the plaster, then falls on the bed. For a few minutes David just stares at the ceiling, trying to think of a way to smooth things over with Lita. He almost doesn't notice the single sheet of paper on the bed next to him.

David: "What the ..."

It's a list of names, obviously wrestlers, but no one he's ever heard of.

David: "The Shrieking Sheik? Dirk Hardpec? Switchyard Sullivan? Cash Flagg? Dax the Hipster? Kid Gruesome? Man, what a bunch of losers ..."

At the bottom of the list is a handwritten note.

"Drakus made quite a few enemies during his career on the independent circuit. Maybe some of them would be interested in a chance for retribution. If you'd like, I can arrange an opportunity."

The note is signed "Shadow."

David: "Not a bad idea."

Maybe it's time for Drakus to face his past, courtesy of Infinity.

David Hardy stepped out of the San Juan airport and slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lita walk right past him and into a waiting taxi. She glanced over at him for a mere moment before jerking her head back the other way as the cab quickly pulled away from the airport. Hardy shook his head as he saw the cab fade off into the distance and traffic. She had been giving him the cold shoulder since shortly after the last show, even requesting to have a seat on the airplane away from him. Hardy had to sit coach, while she got both of his executive class seats..

"Women..." Hardy sighed.

As much as it hurt him to have Lita upset with him like this, it was probably for the better that she kept her distance for the next several days. First of all, it would relieve some of the stress of hiding her from Infinity. Secondly, and more importantly, he was now dealing with some psychotic monster who seemed to get off on destroying other people, and he didn't want her anywhere near the situation, for both of their sakes. That being said, he still wished he could figure out what the big deal is with her and get her back.

The sun was slowly starting to set, bringing a red glow to the city before the darkness would take over. Then the time would be right. Hardy wanted this to be a nice vacation in paradise, sipping drinks on the beach and hitting the town, but all that changed when he discovered Drakus to be his opponent. Drakus, the same man who beat him within an inch of his life in one of his earlier independant matches. The man who showed no mercy to a youngster just wanting to do what he loved, and instead gave him the Bob Holly treatment tenfold. The memory was something that haunted Hardy for the past four years.

To say Hardy is an emotional person is an understatement, and to say he holds grudges would be an even bigger one. Since he joined 411 and subsequently TCW, he gained his fair share in enemies, like Shogun, Supreme, The WMDs and now the New Hellfire Club. But long before Hardy even met any of them, there was Drakus. It wasn't so much of a feud that they had as much as it was an extreme hatred he had for the big man for what he did to him. Drakus had probably forgotten about the young, flashy punk, but Hardy thought about Drakus every day for a year.

After that fateful match/beating, Hardy spent about four weeks in the hospital receiving surgery and recovering. All the money that the promoter gave him for his match with Drakus had been spent on the medical bills, and he even went into dept paying for the rest of them. The few months after that were equally hellacious thanks to the loan shark that lent him the money to pay off the rest of his hospital bills. Luckily for Hardy, his first 411 paycheque got the shark off his back. But he still had one thing on his chest: Drakus.

Hardy tried to press charges, but the judge in Kentucky threw his case out of court stating that Hardy knew the consequences and that Drakus wasn't liable for any injuries suffered. As far as Hardy knew, Drakus never heard about that, otherwise the psychopath may have come after him and given him an even worse beating. David Hardy didn't give up after that though, it just feuled the fire even more, and all Hardy could think of was getting revenge, by any means necessary.

Throughout a large part of 2003, David Hardy toured the indy circuit in search of Drakus, though it seemed his name popped up very rarely. When it did, however, there was usually a shitstorm behind it. From the looks of things, Drakus would completely brutalize whoever he was in the ring with, though none to the extent that Hardy suffered. Whenever Hardy would ask a promoter about Drakus, he would get little info, other than the usual: that he was a maniac and that they'd never hire Drakus again.

For months, Hardy trained nonstop in order to get himself into good enough condition to beat Drakus. In that time he racked up an impressive winning streak and began to get the attention of the IWC, but of that mattered to him. All he wanted was to repay Drakus for the pain he put him through. In late 2003, he had finally found Drakus, and was just days away from meeting him face to face again, when fate struck again: Drakus was arrested. Hardy didn't know the details, but he did find out that Drakus was supposed to be behind bars for five years for assault. Naturally, Hardy was disappointed that he didn't get his chance to put Drakus into the hospital, though he was relieved that the beast wouldn't be able to hurt any more young wrestlers behind bars. And it would give Hardy more time to prepare. He knew he'd need it.

Truthfully, David Hardy was terrified of Drakus. The guy looked like a monster, and in a fight, acted like one. Hardy was never one to back down from a challenge, but he would often question his own desire to go after Drakus. Their first and only encounter was a humbling experience for Hardy. Although he had always been depressed throughout his life, he always had his fighting skills to fall back on, though Drakus put that in jeopardy. It made Hardy feel weaker than he had ever felt before, and part of him wanted to beat Drakus to get his confidence back. Hardy wrote off the loss as simple rookie mistakes, though deep down inside, knew that Drakus was the better, and more intense of the two then. Maybe he even still is.

Hardy always remained haunted by the encounter, and just thought of that night would send pain coursing through his body. The fact that Drakus was arrested for assualt frightened Hardy even more, though him being behind bars was a bit comforting. Since that point, Hardy more or less pushed the whole Drakus experience to the back of his head, thinking of it as little as possible. It never fully went away, but Hardy certainly didn't worry about it as much. Which is why it was such a huge shock to see Drakus' name opposite his own on the card for the next match. In the three years since his pursuit of the man who tore him apart, Hardy slowly forgot Drakus' name and other details about him, only remembering his face. It took a photo and pen to recognize the man and his new look.

David Hardy was scared again. Which is why he made certain choices. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a button on speed dial. He put the device up to his face.

"Shads?" he spoke softly, "Yeah... do it..."

With those words, he hung up and stepped over to the limo waiting for him.


**************************************


Drakus and Mr. Pryce stepped out of the hotel and descended down the long flight of stairs to the street where they saw a man in a suit standing beside the limo. He was holding a card which read "Drakus and Pryce." Drakus leaned towards to Pryce.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered.

Pryce shook his head, "I'm not sure..."

Drakus also shook his head, still speaking softly "We didn't order this, someone is fucking with us."

"Let me handle this," Pryce said.

Pryce stepped up to the limo driver.

"Are you the one that called us down here?" asked Pryce.

"Yes sir!" the driver said, "If you'll just hop in, we'll be right on our way!"

Pryce shook his head, "What is this meaning of this? We heard nothing about a limo being sent our way."

"That's peculiar," the driver said, "though understandable. Every TCW employee has been sent a ride to the arena immediately. Miss Stern has called an emergency staff meeting. It's mandatory and looks like she means business. And from what I've heard, she's not the person to disobey, so I'd highly suggest getting in."

"Pardon by scepticism," said Pryce, "but how do we know this is the truth?"

"Certainly," said the driver.

He pulled out a TCW identification card and a slip of paper from his pocket featuring the request and Valerie Stern's signature. Pryce nodded slowly after observing both pieces. He then looked at Drakus and gave him a reassuing nod.

"I still don't like the looks of it," Drakus muttered.

"I think we should get in," Pryce said, "We both know you're lucky to have this TCW contract and jeopardizing it is the last thing either of us need right now, so I'd suggest we go."

"Whatever," Drakus said as he walked to the car.

The driver opened the door and Drakus got in. Drakus edge along the seat and examined the inside of the limo. Something suprisingly strartling were that the windows were so dark that he couldn't even see out of them. That's when the door suddenly closed.

"Pryce?" he asked.

Drakus looked over at the now shut door and instantly felt that something wasn't right. He quickly edged back over to the door and attempted to peer through the window but could see nothing. The car then started up and he could feel it was in motion. He grabbed onto the doorhandle but it stapped off like a twig in his hand.

"What the hell is going on!?" he grunted.

With a yell, he drove his powerful elbow into the glass but it bounced off with no damage done. With an angry demeanor, he threw a few fists into the glass, but again the glass remained undamaged. A speaker then hissed then a voice came from it.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remain still," the driver's voice said.

"Who are you and where the fuck are you taking me!?" he roared.

"You're invited to a reunion party, asshole..." a different voice said, "and you're the guest of honor..."

Before Drakus can respond, he felt something sharp strike his neck and everything faded to black.


****************************

"Get up."

"Wake up, you son of a bitch."

Drakus slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a dark room, looking straight up at a light hanging down over him. He could tell by the shadows that this was a large room, maybe even a warehouse, though he couldn't tell currently. He heard more voices and suddenly Drakus felt the ground move underneath him and he quickly found himself tumbling off of a table and onto the hard concrete floor. He felt woozy and it took a few seconds to get to his feet.

"Glad you could finally join us," said a man, stepping out of the shadows.

"Who the hell?" Drakus growled, "Hardpec?"

"That's right, shithead," said Dirk Hardpec, indy jobber extraordinaire, "Long time no see."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Drakus said as he cracked his knuckles, staring down his old rival.

"I've been waiting for this..." said Hardpec before letting out a yell.

With those words, Dirk Hardpec charged at Drakus. Drakus had seen this many times before. Another time, another place, another situation, but really, it was all the same. Hardpec charged headfirst towards Drakus, looking to land a headbutt to the chest, but his aggression was cut short. Drakus stepped forward and raised a heavy boot, landing it between Hardpec's eyes. With a sickening sound, Hardpec's head jerked back and he dropped to the ground. Drakus quickly mounted him and placed one hand around his throat and raised his other fist.

"Was this worth kidnapping me for, dickless?" Drakus yelled.

Before an answer could come from his mouth, Hardpec's face nearly caved in due to the massive fist now firmly planted into it. Like an exaggerate video game such as Mortal Kombat, a cloud of blood rose from Hardpec's face. Drakus grinned sickly at the site. He remembered Hardpec well, especially all the time he kicked the jobber's ass. Hardpec always chaged headfirst and always ate the boot. That's why he was in his current position.

Drakus shook his head, "You stupid-"

Suddenly Drakus felt something heavy jump onto his back and an arm wrap around his neck. For a few seconds, Drakus felt himself being choked until a sudden jerk forward brought his assailant over his head and onto the ground infront of him. Drakus grabbed him by the head and lifted him up. He observed the small man infront of him and shook his head.

"Kid Gruesome?" he said in disbelief, "what the fuck is going on!?"

Before the kid could answer him, another figure charged out of the darkness into the small lighted area. Switchyard Sullivan. Another hopeless jobber Drakus had destroyed some years ago. A joke of a wrestler and a waste of life. Drakus displayed this without words by suddenly darting forward and striking him in the head with a massive clothesline, still holding Gruesome's face with his other hand. Sullivan's head bounced off the concrete and didn't move after that.

"A fucking ambush, huh!?" Drakus shouted at Gruesome.

The kid attempted to say something, but Drakus ignored him. The big man hoisted Kid Gruesome onto his shoulders and charged forward. With a sudden stop, Drakus tossed Gruesome head first like a lawndart. He disappeared into the darkness and a sick thud could be heard as he hit the shadowy wall. Drakus growled as his temper began to rise, but then he heard another noise behind him. It sounded like a middle-eastern man screaming. Drakus turned around, and sure enough, it was.

"God dammit, Sheik..." Drakus snarled.

The Shrieking Sheik charged towards Drakus with a pipe raised over his head, yelling like there's no tomorrow. Drakus let out a roar of his own and charged right towards Sheik. Before the Shrieking Sheik could swing the heavy pipe, he was tackled by the hulking Drakus. Drakus yelled as he picked the Sheik up and ran several feet holding onto him. With a sudden jerk, Drakus dropped forward and drilled the Shrieking Sheik with a tremendous spinebuster onto the pavement. Needless to say, the Shrieking Sheik was down for the count, just like every time he faced Drakus in the past. Drakus hopped back up and stomped down on Sheik's chest in a fit of rage.

"Who's next!?" he screamed, expecting more jobbers to attack him like old Batman henchmen.

Sure enough, he felt a sudden blow to his back, but it barely fazed him. Drakus quickly turned around and grabbed the man infront of him: Cash Flagg. Another jobber who Drakus barely recognized, though Flagg held a grudge against the bigger man. Drakus wasted no time in jamming Flagg's head between his arm and body. With a sudden pull, Drakus brough Cash Flagg down headfirst into the ground with a DDT. A splatter of blood signified the end of that threat. Drakus stood up and looked around him, expecing more, but none came. After not too long, though, he did here a voice through his heavy, angered breaths. Suddenly, another familiar opponent, Dax the Hipster stumbled forward and onto the ground, skidding a few feet. He slowly sat up and wiped a heavy flow of blood from his nose.

"You assclowns are all fucking useless!" said the voice.

The form a young man, early twenties stepped out from the shadows. His black, blue and silver colored hair glistened in light as he approached Dax. He had a pissed off look on his face, and what looked to be a few streams of tears rolling down his cheeks. Drakus slowly recognized the young man as the same person who's photo he looked at a few days ago. His opponent at Revolucion: David Hardy.

"I ain't gonna fight that thing again!" whimpered Dax as he tried to back away.

David Hardy glared down at one of the men he and Shadow hired to take out Drakus. His right eyebrow twitched slightly and with lighting like speed, he delivered a hard buzzsaw kick to the back of Dax's head. The Hipster's eyes rolled back and he quickly fell forward to the pavement.

"God dammit, Shadow..." Hardy whispered, "Is this the best you can give me!?"

Drakus stepped forward and spoke impatiently, "You! Did you arrange this!?"

Hardy turned his head and made eye contact with Drakus for the first time in nearly four years. The look shot a jolt of nervousness through Hardy's body. That combined with the frustration of his brutally failed plan set off a flurry of emotions within the young superstar. He breathed heavily as he stepped towards Drakus.

"You're goddamned right I did..." Hardy said through gritted teeth, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Drakus glared right back at the young punk and said, "you're the next roadblock in the fed... another curtain to tear through."

Hardy winced and growled, "Is that all I am to you?"

"No..." Drakus said, "you're a loud, annoying curtain with a flower print..."

"Don't you fucking joke around with me, you son of a bitch!" Hardy screamed at the bigger man, "Don't you remember me!? What you did to me!!??"

"I don't fucking know you, kid," Drakus snapped, "but cute trick you tried bringing out all these pieces of crap from the past. I'm guessing you want to be next..."

"Look me in the face and tell me you don't know me!" Hardy screamed.

Drakus looked at the young hothead and shook his head. He seemed somewhat familiar, but not enough to ring any bells.

Drakus muttered, "If we've met before then I don't remember, I go through jobbers like you like toilet paper..."

"You don't remember..." Hardy said softly.

He quickly pulled out a handle and extracted a switchblade, something he hadn't done with his psychotic encounters with Shogun. The sharp blade glistened in the light surrounding the two TCW superstars. Hardy had a crazed expression on his face.

"I'll make you remember..."