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LIVE!! From the already sold out Plaza De Ventas, Madrid Spain
(Card subject to change)

The Mr. Majestic Memorial Tournament Finals
4-Way Elimination Match
Darkness Vs Matt Strikmore Vs DeSean Blackwell © Vs Drakus
"After all the action, all the blood, the weird matches and the hard fought close calls it's come down to this - four competitors fighting it out in a free for all for the ultimate prize. Who will take the tournament, the sack of cash and the giant trophy? (And some piddling detail about booking something or other)"

Non-Title Match
Jason Dante © Vs Mutaaz "The Hammer" Tareef
"Infinity and the New Hellfire Club have been at odds before, well honestly before either faction was formed. On Revolucion it reached a boiling point and the Acolyte got injured in the ensuing brawl at the hands of the Hammer. The current World champion steps up to revenge his friend, fighting a man that's already injured one Club Member and is looking to hurt another, or worse."

TCW Transcontinental Title Match
HighOne © Vs DeadZone
"After being tied up with the Majestic tournament and then proving that he doesn't take a back seat to the current World champion HighOne is looking forward to defending his Transcontinental title and has been opening stating that he wants the toughest competition around. Beating 2 guys in a match qualifies as "tough", Comissioner Stern thought so and gave this promising rookie a shot. Several years ago HighOne was the rookie shooting for a title, now he's on the other side in a slightly ironic twist."

TCW Aftershock Title Match
Kojack © Vs "The Supa Natcha boy" Dick Flehr
"Last PPV Dick Flehr won a shot at the Aftershock title and he's finally remembered it, now it's time to cash the title shot in as the proud Canadian Kojack puts not only his pride on the line, not only his title but maybe also his dignity as he fights the "glamorous" Dick Flehr"

Grudge Match
Shadow © Vs Plausible Deniability
"Infinity: A band of happy brothers with everyone working for a common goal? Until Revolucion that might have been true yes, but Plausible Deniability returned out of left field and let it be known that he did not appreciate being replaced as one half of the tag-team champions and quite effectively and quite viciously severed his ties with the super group. Now Infinity gets to deal with something they've not come across before, a defector."
Stipulation: If PD wins he gets a tag-team title shot with a partner of his choosing. If PD loses he will never get a shot at the tag-team titles as long as Infinity holds them.

Bleeder Title shot to the winner
David Hardy & Titanium Insomniac Vs Supreme & Mac Avoy
"Two men who are stable mates but have never teamed together take on one of the toughest men in the business and the self proclaimed "ECF Icon" in a tag-team match with more potential than you can shake a stick at. Supreme ended Hardy's run with the Transcontinental title and there is no doubt Hardy has not forgotten. If you look up the word "Icon" then Titanium Insomniac would be listed under the definition. The person who gets the pinfall in this tag-team match is promised a shot at the Bleeder title ASAP, could this cause a bit of inter-team tension?"

Tag-Team Division Rankings match
Legitimate Business Associates (JE & Kermit) Vs Jack Frost & Father Savage
"JE and his "Legitimate Associate" Kermit take on 1/2 of Blitzkrieg and a man hell bent on saving everyone's soul - whether they want to or not. Neither side have teamed together before so in that regard they're even, time will tell which of these manage to work together better. A win here will get either team that much closer to a title shot (Note: A win for Frost/Savage would benefit Blitzkrieg's standings and give Savage a singles "bonus""

Tag-Team Division Rankings match
The Miracle Violence Combination Vs The Hellions
"There has been bragging, there has been trash talk now it's time to see if either of the these teams have what it takes to rise to the top of the TCW's limited tag-team division. One team seems to have the credentials but in TCW what you did elsewhere and a buck will get you a cup of coffee and the Hellions are out to take MVC's buck away from them. A win here will get either team that much closer to a title shot"</center>

A new locker room, not that that was anything unusual to the Miracle Violence Combination, except for an 8 month stint with the WWA James and Frankie had always enjoyed a very "Unrestrictive" working environment wherever they went.

But this was different, Frankie knew it and he could tell from James' facial expression that he knew it too. In TCW it didn't matter if you had been big in Japan and well as far as tag-teams go there hadn't been anyone bigger in Japan than those two for 5-6 years. It was the first time they'd been in the "new guys" locker room in ages - even in the WWA they got their own locker room because of the expectations put on them. But here they weren't treated any differently than any other new guy that walked through the door, in a way that was refreshing.

"Man I haven't been the opening attraction since 1989" James says as he tapes up his right knee. Not that he was bragging or anything, just stating a fact.

"Odd?"

"It's kinda nice actually" Hawk says as he tears the tape off and then pulls up his knee pad "It's good to be just one of the boys now and again, I mean when we went to Europe those small time federations treated us like gods and worshipped us - I'm not a god, I'm just a guy doing the only thing he knows"

That's good ol' Hawk for ya, out of all the people that Frankie had known he was one of the few that was happy with just being what he was. James didn't seek moviestardom or wanted to be a rock star, he was a wrestler and he wanted to do that until his body said stop. Going up and down the road with Hawk for these last 4 years had rubbed off on Frankie, where he before dreamt of fame and glory and having his house on MTV Cribs he was happy with what he was doing now, finally.

"Hey Frankie" James said as he pulls out a black marker and hands it to his tag-team partner without ever being asked to do so.

"Yeah old man" Frankie replied as he took the pen.

This was part of their ritual, each new show, each new town this is part of how they prepared.

"Do you like our odds tonight" Hawk asks

"Nope" Frankie replies as he pulls the cap off the marker and then writes "Pops" on the wrist tape of his left hand.

"Yeah you're right I'd be better off with your dad" James says, even though they both know that it's not actually true - as good as that team was, when the MVC got together it gave both of them a new lease on life.

"And I'd be better off with a young good looking woman" Frankie says with a grin, four years ago before their first match in the "Futureshock" tournament he probably meant it but now it was just part of the ritual.

Coming to TCW seemed to agree with Hawk, he'd been more talkative and excited about this than any big contract they'd landed in the last two years or so. Their deal with the WWA was more because of the money thrown at them than a desire to go there, but TCW was different - here they were expected to prove themselves and not have everything handed to them and Hawk was confident that they'd prove themselves here just like they had proven everywhere else that they are the best tag-team in the business..

Not that these people realize it yet

Frankie finished taping his wrists, then pulled the straps on his singlet up over his shoulders as he observed the other people in the "New guys" locker room, the guys that hadn't made connections or anything like that yet. Yeah he saw the looks some of them gave them when they got here, that big Asian looking fellar gave Hawk the most curious look earlier on, maybe he was trying to figure out what an old man like him was doing here in the locker rooms.

And that guy, what's his name? "Spike" yeah Spike had been eying them for a while and made a few comments to that other guy. Frankie heard what Spike had said and Spike knew Frankie heard yet he didn't seem to care.

"Oh well, he'll either get over it or do something about it" Frank thinks as he stands up, they've just been given the signal by the road agent

"It's go time Frankie" James mutters as he gets up, takes the cowboy hat off the peg and puts it on and then grabs his ever present bullrope. It was indeed "go time"

James and Frankie were on early tonight, it was their place in the wrestling world after all they were the debuting team here tonight. They were scheduled to go out there and cut a promo and then later on they'd take on the Sewage Kings - the name made James weary but what can you do? The boss tells you you're facing the Sewage Kings and you're facing the Sewage Kings, end of story.

"Alright guys 2 minutes and we'll cue the music" Adam Wilson told them.

There was a certain kind of nervousness about the Gorilla position, just before you go on. The adrenaline is flowing, a million thoughts go through your head and you picture everything that can go wrong in an instant. Frankie began to jog in place, getting the pulse up again before the get to go on. Hawk crosses himself while saying a little prayer and then he kisses his cowbell as it's time to step through the curtains

As the theme to "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" begins to play both guys have one common thought

"Dear god please don't let anything mess this up"

Whoooo-eo-oe-oooooooh!

Whua-whua-whua

James Hawk steps through the curtains just as a spotlight shines on him, they've done this entrance a million times but whenever they're in a new place they're worried that the lighting crew's timing is off.

Whoooo-eo-oe-oooooooh!

Whua-whua-whua

Frank Hayes Jr. steps through the curtains, raises his right hand in the air, one finger outstretched as he smiles.

DENG-DENG-DENGDENG!!

WO-HA-WOHA!!

As soon as the music speeds up the crowd reception warms up as well, that's always how it went - the crowd was quiet so that everyone could hear the whistling but then they picked up right after. Despite them both being focused on nothing messing up they take their time to high five some of the fans as they head to the ring, making sure that no hand remained up slapped.

This is what they lived for, this is their element - in front of a live crowd putting on the best show they knew how. Frankie looked over at Hawk for a moment, gone were the aches and pains of the old man and he was "on" smiling and high fiving fans and laughing over the smark section going nuts over them.

"I didn't know there were that many tape traders in Spain" James says to Frankie as they approach the ring and then enter it.

"Alright old man let's knock it out of the park" Frankie says without worrying about anyone hearing the two chit-chatting in the ring, the Spanish crowd is quite vocal which is one of the perks of being the opening segment on the first TCW house show in Spain.

Hawk asks for a microphone and is promptly handed one, now the Miracle Violence Combination discussed how smart it was to cut a promo in English in front of a Spanish crowd but well wrestling fans tend to be more international so they figured it wasn't a problem.

"We are not rich millionaires" the old man starts out by saying immediately quieting the crowd down. Then he points to Frank Hayes Jr. who raises a hand to greet the crowd "This man right there is not a time traveler and I'm not a demon slayer or some twat who runs around and moans because he can't sleep!"

YEAH!!

Frankie owes Hawk 10 bucks, Spaniards do know what "twat" means!

"We're not psychiatrists or magicians! My name is James Hawk! And this is Frankie Hayes - AND WE COME TO FIGHT!!" Hawk belts out with such a passion that it is very obvious that it's from the heart

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

"Some of you already know us, know what we have done in the past. Some of you don't know us yet but that will soon change as we take this federation by storm!" Hawk says and then gets ready to hand off to Frankie Hayes for a quick run down of their past accomplishments.

Everything was going SO well up until this point

"Excuse me? EXCUSE ME!!" A voice yells over the PA system as the entrance lights are turned back on.

"What the hell?" Frankie mutters as he sees two guys come out to interrupt their promo time.

"I'm sorry but my partner and I just happened to hear you talking about what you are and what you aren't" the short, scraggy looking guy that Frankie identified as Spike earlier on says as he and the big oriental-ish looking guy come down to ringside.

"You forgot to add something on the "What we are list" sunshine"

Frankie had to fight the urge to let rip on these guys verbally, he hated the unexpected and didn't cope with it well. James put a hand on Frankie's shoulder to get him to calm down a bit and let him do the talking

"And what might that be sonny?" Hawk asks

"You forgot to add that YOU are over the hill and that THIS GUY" Points to Frankie "would be nothing without you."

Spike turns to Thorne and then nods as if the big guy told him something "Yeah that's right! What you need to realize Hawk is that there is only ONE team poised to take the tag-team division by storm and that's the Hellions!!"

"Who the hell do you think you are!!" Frankie yells, letting the temper get the better of him "We've won titles all over the world, we've beaten guys bigger, stronger and better than you night in and night out!"

"Calm down Frankie!" Hawk cautions him and then whispers "Can't lose our cool already"

"OOOOOOOOH I'm sure you're big in Japan or whatever, but this is Americ... well it's Spain but this is TCW and here you ain't jack until you prove it" Spike says with a grin.

Hawk quickly takes the microphone from Frankie to keep his cool and then addresses the Hellions on the floor.

"Is that right?" Hawk says with a calmness that pisses Spike off, it takes more than that to get under James' skin unlike his partner. "There is a PPV coming up and you know it's not like you've got a list of credentials to your name, so what better place and time to put up or shut up?"

That got the crowd going even if some of them were probably hoping for it to happen tonight.

"Pay Per View huh? You mean it wouldn't just be these people here who gets to see that you're a couple of hasbeens and that the Hellions are the future?" Spike says with a grin "That ain't half bad innit? Shame your first PPV appearance for TCW will be a loss"

And with that Spike drops the microphone and heads back to the locker rooms with Thorn right behind him. The fans ate up every moment of that exchange while Frankie and James were less than pleased with what just happened.

That thing about nothing messing up? Yeah that was wrong - damn those two idiots for jumping all over their debut.

"Come on Frankie let's go" Hawk says and motions to the locker room.

"Yeah let's go kick their asses!!" Frankie hisses as he steps through the ropes.

"All in due time partner, first things first"

"What's first then?" Frankie asks as they head down the aisle once more slapping a few hands as they go, the excitement and joy they had going in had been diminished by the Hellions interrupting them.

"We still have a match" Hawk reminds his partner as they step through the curtain to the back.

"Oh shit I forgot"

That's how pissed off he was, he had totally forgotten that they were facing the Sewage Kings later tonight.

"Alright match first, THEN we find those two tweps" Frankie says.

"Deal"

As the Miracle Violence Combination head back to their locker room James Hawk has one single solitary wish for their match later tonight

"Please let it go smoothly"

It is immediately after Revolucion. Officials have finally been able to pull apart the jumbled angry mass of men in and around the ring. Stagehands nervously wait just behind the set, unsure of what will find its way back through first, and what sort of mood it'll be in.

A faux wooden table is flipped over, startling a few of the workers. An assortment of raw vegetables and lunchmeat flies against the wall as metal trays clang against one another before making dull thuds on the carpet. A moment later, two folding chairs hurtle through the air, one after the other, adding to the chaos and people's anxiety levels before finding their own resting places among overturned broccoli and dip.

Just before that, Titanium Insomniac had barreled through the curtain, still picking clumps of dirt from his shoulders and arms. Highone, Hardy, and the rest appear a moment later, doing their best to keep up. TI seems not to notice them. His adrenaline blinds him to his teammates; his sense of decorum; his desire to maintain an air of calm intimidation. He wouldn't call this anger...this is excess energy that he simply has no plan to ration carefully.

The latest addition to the din is a splashing followed by a hollow clunk as a plastic water cooler bounces off the concrete. "What NERVE!! What...fucking...NERVE!!"

Highone stretches his arm to place a hand on TI's shoulder, but thinks better of it. "The cobra clutch was a statement, TI. They really know who you are now."

The Insomniac stops and is eye to eye with the one who risked saying something. His face is a twisted combination of malice and pleasure. "Of COURSE they know who I am...they always have. In FACT...obviously my near-destruction of Strikmore aroused something within them."

Highone looks at his teammate warily. "Um...what do you mean?"

TI takes a few steps backwards, his breathing still manic. "Please...why else would Darkness attempt to distract me when I was so fucking close to putting Strikmore exactly where he knew he'd end up? Are you blind to the implications of it all? That mutant out there didn't want to face me in the finals. He's afraid."

The only sound heard now among this haggard group is TI's breathing. He stares at them with a raging fire behind his eyes. Again, Highone is the only one of the group to speak despite the fatigue setting in. "You need to be careful. You've never faced him. Don't assume that he's anything."

TI tilts his head to one side. "Careful...I know all about careful. But if I or you or anyone else wasn't seen as a legitimate threat to that cheap imitation of what Bleeder created...why the fuck would they waste their time screwing me over? Why keep me from the finals, if he's so above me?

"The real fact of the matter is that I've just managed to wedge myself into something until this point deemed impenetrable. Like an icepick under a toenail. They've let me in. And one day, when the time is right, I'll find my way all the way up into their brains."

Now much more composed, The Insomniac awaits the reaction from his teammates, who regard him with a certain tired confusion and acceptance, as if they're willing to go along with whatever he says as long as they can get back to the dressing room.

TI resigns himself to the fact that for the time being, he's surrounded by men defeated by long hours, an evening of mixed results, and betrayal. "All right...if tonight wasn't enough to convince you...I'll continue rebuilding my reputation, and I'll see to it that you believe as much as everyone else will."
______________________

Titanium Insomniac and David Hardy have just pulled away from the scene at Supreme's place in a dark BMW, which somehow has become Infinity's unofficial vehicle of choice. Hardy turns onto the road in silence, his sledgehammer resting in the backseat, a hint of blood on its head. To study Hardy's face is to notice the slight biting of the inside of the lip, the wild tinge to his eyes, the overall sense of determination.

TI actually finds himself admiring his teammate. "Wanna talk about it, dear?"

Hardy doesn't even look over. "Not if you're going to talk to me like that, no."

TI nods and watches the quick passing of yellow that shines in the headlights. He rubs his upper lip and snickers, surprising himself at what a good mood he's in. "So what do you suppose is really in store for us this week? After all...a team from a faction that is supposed to be feared and reviled pit against two guys who just last week wanted to kill each other."

Hardy still doesn't take his eyes off the road. "It'll be what it is."

TI turns back toward his partner. "I never took you to be the philosophical one."

"We've never spoken before a few hours ago."

TI nods again. "True. Although you come highly recommended from Highone."

"Let me get something straight this week, okay?" Hardy's tone has turned stony. "I'm not your hired gun. I've got my own plans and I'm not going to play second fiddle to a guy with an inferiority complex. Got it?"

TI's eyes narrow. "You're better versed on inferiority complexes than I am. But none of that is consequential this week. Let me put it this way: I have my own plans, too. And so long as you don't fuck up mine, I won't fuck up yours. How's that for a working arrangement?"

Hardy makes no acknowledgement of The Sleepless One's latest statements, much less his proposal. The only sound for a few moments is the passing of asphalt underneath the BMW's tires.

"Do you know how big of a brick Highone would shit if he heard us talking like this? His world would wilt a little." TI props a black boot on the dash as he reclines in his seat, leaning his head back.

Hardy finally loosens up a little as he chuckles. "Supreme had no clue I was behind him with that sledge."

TI rolls his head toward Hardy, smirking. "Strange bedfellows..." Hardy isn't so comfortable with this particular Shakespeare allusion. TI shakes his head.

"So what do we do now?"

"We pay a visit to the other half of our hapless opposition."

"All right...but what's our plan?"

"A more straightforward encounter, wherein I twist the knife that he's been dying to pull out of his side."
______________________

Mac Avoy had left Supreme's place with a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Was it enough that Supreme had squeezed out the victory and had stolen back his numskull drone to boot? But now the two were teamed. What sort of hand had fate dealt him?

He now sits at the doors to...a library. A library? "Go to find them," he'd said. That black-coated one wouldn't be able to resist this opportunity, dangling himself out like a worm on a hook. Come on, you gruesome son of a bitch...

"What an evening!"

Mac sneers. This one is predictable.

"So...were they fresh out of Macbeth? How about Oedipus? Maybe you're into religious reading...Pharaoh from the book of Exodus might be up your alley."

The Insomniac takes a seat next to Mac on the steps, resting his arms on his knees. He turns his head toward a still-silent foe. "Know what they all have in common?"

Mac still makes no movement to acknowledge TI's presence.

"Oh, come on...take a guess."

Mac looks at The Insomniac for the first time. TI is impressed with the eye contact. He'd actually expected Mac to be so bold, he just wasn't sure why it'd taken so long.

"Is it that they were all once referenced in a ridiculous little attempt to get inside my head? All three quoted by a presumptuous little git with face paint?"

TI smirks. "You're not even going to try a serious guess?"

"No...that IS my serious guess. And I'm right."

"Mac, Mac, Mac...you're not going to achieve icon status with that attitude." TI stands and turns to face his increasingly annoyed protagonist. "You see...I've been thinking about that word. Icon. And I can't quite wrap my head around why YOU, of all people, think you're entitled to such a phrase. Sure, your blowhard of a father earned it...your flake of a trainer deserved it...I once associated myself with a perpetually angry man-beast of a guy to whom I'll grant such a status.

"But YOU, Mac...I mean, how the hell do YOU have access to it? How is it that you think YOU, better groomed at this point in your career—well, at any point in your career—for the soupline, deserve to be called ‘icon?' Now ME on the other hand...well, you know my accomplishments so I won't bore you."

"Thank God."

"But I need to finish my riddle. You've never answered my question. Do you know what those three classic literary characters had in common?"

"You should be amazed that I'm still listening and not lunging for your throat, so just fucking tell me."

TI sighs. "Not very iconic in patience, either. Fine. Macbeth, Oedipus, and Pharaoh all falsely believe that they hold their destinies in their own hands. And they're GREAT destinies. But really...someone else is pulling the strings. And if that doesn't fuck all, they all turn out to be some of the most magnificent failures one has ever had the chance to read about. Tricked by life into thinking that they've got big bright futures...and then the rug gets yanked from under them.

"My friend...you won't even make it to the ‘bright future' part. And yet you keep speaking the word ‘icon.' You inherited all the delusion from your father, but none of the silver lining. That HAS to piss you off."

Mac is staring right into The Insomniac's eyes. "You know what...it does."

TI looks at him smugly.

"And because of it...you'll be my latest and greatest casualty." Mac lunges at TI as if going for a spear, but is barricaded by an already bloody sledgehammer and a multi-colored head of hair. Mac steps back a few inches. "After all that talking, you're keeping me at bay with this?"

"What can I say, Mac? It's not your time. Hell, at the rate you're going it never will be."

Mac watches as the two climb back into the BMW and begin their departure. "I'll be the judge of that."

Revolucion. Flehr is just off the heels of a very important match. With another win under his belt, he's more confident than ever... not to mention fat. He is currently in the medical area getting some wounds patched from the night before.

Barn: Well Dick, you did it. I was worried about you getting injured last night, but you managed to come out on top.

Dick: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! The supa natcha boy was on his game last night! I was profilin and stylin! I'll admit, it was tough at first, but when I found the rocky road... WHEEEEEEEEEEEE! THE SUPA NATCHA BOY WAS READY TO GO ALL NIGHT LONG! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Barn: Alrighty then. Now Dick, at the last PPV, you won a shot at the Aftershock, or Canuck title. If I recall, you're supposed to be going up against Kojak.

Dick: You're talking about the guy in that tag match that lasted several hours?

Barn: The very same. His team won ya know.

Dick: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SO DID THE SUPA NATCHA BOY!

Barn: Yeah. So about that, it's going to be one on one. You versus Kojak. This is going to be by far one of your biggest challenges yet.

Dick: I'll have to admit Barn, challenging for the Canuck title is going to be a great challenge, but as long as I'm in Flehr country and have a fresh pair of Depends, there's the nothing the Supa natcha boy can't do!

Barn: yeah... so are we done in here? are you ready to go Dick?

Dick: Nurse?

Nurse: Sure, your tests are all ok.

Dick grabs his bath robe and the two exit the area. Dick has only one thing on his mind right now. Oddly enough it's not ice cream. The geriatric duo head for entrance to the area...

I hear those ice cream bells and I start to drool
Kept a couple quarts in my locker at school
Yah, but chocolate's gettin' old
Vanilla just leaves me cold
There's just one flavor good enough for me, yah me
Don't gimme no crummy taste spoon
I know what I need

Out comes Flehr and Barn and the two are in rare form...

Baby, I love rocky road
So won't you go and buy half a gallon, baby
I love rocky road
So have another triple scoop with me, ow

The crowd is loving this change in music for Flehr. Flehr is now strutting down the ramp and Barn is following behind...

They tell me ice cream junkies are all the same
All the soda jerkers know my name
When their supple is gone
Then I'll be movin' on
But I'll be back on Monday afternoon, you'll see
Another truck load's comin' in for me, all for me
I'm singin'

Dick is now in posession of a microphone and he's strutting in the ring and begins singing along with his theme...

Dick: I love rocky road, So won't you go and buy half a gallon, baby! I love rocky road
So have another triple scoop with me WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The music is stopped and the crowd is WHEEEing along with Flehr.

Dick: It is SO GOOD! IT IS SO GOOD TO BE IN THE MIDDLE OF FLEHR COUNTRY! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! RIGHT HERE IN CHARLOTTE NC! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Obviously he doesn't have his locations right, but the crowd doesn't seem to care. Flehr's their hero... they must have really low standards...

Dick: LAST NIGHT! IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS RING! I BEAT THE 1 2 3 KID IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! I KNOCKED HIM OUT!

Crowd: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Dick: Now... what makes the Natcha boy mad is what happened afterwards! He knocked me out and pinned me for the 1 2 3.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Dick: Now while it wasn't counted as an official win, it was most definitely a slap in the face so 1 2 3 kid, you better watch out for me brother! BUT ON TO BUSINESS AT HAND! RETRIBUTION! THE SUPA NATCHA BOY FINALLY GETS TO CHALLENGE FOR THE AFTERSHOCK TITLE! IT'S GOING TO BE ME VERSUS KOJAK! Now Kojak, if you're listening in the back, all I have to say is good luck to you and may the best man win!

Dick begins strutting in the ring. Barn grabs the mic.

Barn: Dick, aren't you forgetting something?

Dick: Huh?

Barn: You know...

Dick: OH YES!

Dick grabs the mic.

Dick: Now about last week. It has come to my attention that I was walking around in the nude and I offended alot of people. So! To make up for it, I want every one of you to look under your chairs.

The crowd does and on the underside of the chair is a picture of Flehr (clothed) which he autographed.

Dick: Like I said, sorry about being naked, and all that. But like I said. At Retribution, Kojak, best of luck.

Flehr and Barn are playing it up to the crowd...

**fade**

He'd never flinched from anything before in his life.

He'd stood toe-to-toe with the lord of Hades, crossed blades with Lucifer himself and looked through the eyes of a man dead for eight centuries and through all that, he'd never once flinched.

Darkness raked the hair from his eyes as he examined his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror. He was fresh from the shower, so there was no face paint right now and the livid white scars that stretched from the top of his cheek and up to his brow looked like bolts of lightning against his skin that was flushed pink from the hot shower.

There was no fear in him. On a fundamental level, it was something alien to him; a simple facet of his nature that made him different from other people. He'd been called courageous before, but he knew that that was a poor descriptor.

If you're not afraid of something, how do you have courage?

He was sure he'd heard someone say that recently...

Darkness turned around and paced quietly into the hotel room proper. It was early evening and the Puerto Rican sunset stained the suite like the aftermath of some horrific battle.

Appropriate, in a way.

What had happened as the show closed earlier barely qualified as a minor skirmish in Darkness's long history of conflict...and yet...

...He'd never flinched before.

Sighing, he dressed himself quickly and tried to make plans. He hadn't been back to the continent of his birth in several years, not since he'd left for America when he saw Bleeder's face on a television set, in fact. Spain hardly qualified as old stomping grounds, but it would still be a strange and oddly comforting experience to be surrounded by the culture, history and architecture of a country that could trace its history back for over a thousand years.

So...now he was in the final. He cared little for the trophy up for grabs, though of course he respected the memory of the man for whom it was named, and even less for the proposed prize. He'd told Shabadoo as much when he first told him he was in the thing.

Darkness had nothing to gain: nothing except his warrior's pride.

He'd never flinched before and he wouldn't again.

* * *

He thought drawing his blood would make him feel better, but it was strangely unsatisfying and not a little disconcerting given how Darkness reacted to the chair shot. DeSean sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out whatever Tiffany was complaining about.

He glanced down at the tape in his hands. Shadow had given a copy to everyone in Infinity without telling them what it was. From what DeSean could discern from his expressionless mask, the CEO hadn't been happy with whatever it showed.

With the tape had also come a warning from Highone. He carried Infinity's banner now, he'd been told, he was the only member of the faction to make it to the final stage of the competition and their pride rested on his shoulders.

It was a lot for a young man to bear.

Highone had also told him that he couldn't afford to do what came naturally. He had three opponents, but everyone knew which of them he would be most likely to focus his attention on.

A drop of Infinity blood was not lightly shed, Highone had vowed, but revenge had left them hollow. No, if they wanted to deal a blow to Darkness and the NHFC it would have to happen in a match and it would have to happen soon.

DeSean stood up. "I'm going out," he said brusquely.

Tiffany looked at him with a frown, "Baby, I was just talking to you about something..."

"It'll have to wait."

She didn't look happy, but he didn't much care. He had other things on his mind and he needed to deal with them in his own way.

"Well where are you going?" she asked, anger showing in every muscle of her pretty face.

DeSean shrugged. "Out. I dunno...just need some time..." he trailed off, unable to express to her what he was feeling at the moment. With no further explanation he grabbed his coat and left the suite, his feet carrying him out of the hotel quickly.

The sun was going down, paving the streets with blood where he walked. Darkness's blood and his own, mingled and splashed around like cheap wine. The truth was that he was humiliated; he didn't need anyone's charity and it galled him that the only reason he was here, as he saw it, was someone else's pity.

And now he had to face that someone in a match and also watch his back while two other guys were after the same thing as him. Darkness's words came back to him, words he'd heard only dimly while he lay there on the mat, blood pouring into his eyes.

Faith? Was that what it took to impress him? Is that what the man who had torn through the roster faster than anyone in history valued?

Maybe someone who spoke so highly of belief in God should think about renaming his little club, DeSean reflected but drew no relief from the thought. It was just another contradiction that made his opponent that much more unfathomable.

How do you beat someone you know nothing about? How can you attack someone who seems to be able to see everything you throw at him even before you do?

He had reached the harbour. Still trying to resolve his inner conflict, he looked out over the deep blue ocean, now dark beneath a crimson-tinted sky flecked with small clouds. With a start he realised he was still carrying the tape Shadow had given him in his hands. He looked at it and idly turned it over. Shadow had told him nothing about the content, merely saying, in an ominous tone, that it would be wise for him to view it.

In other words, it was probably something to do with Darkness.

DeSean wished he could clear his head and think straight about the match. There were two other men standing in his way, but Darkness was all he could focus on and that wasn't helped by the fact that everyone was telling him do stop doing that and look at the other threats he faced.

Things had seemed simpler when he first arrived. He knew what he came here to do and he knew how to do it. Winning was something that had always come naturally to him and, the truth was, his career in the now-TCW had been extremely successful.

In any other circumstances he'd have been a shoe-in for rookie of the year...

Darkness had been in his way since the beginning. When he agreed to join Infinity he couldn't have imagined that the former champion would place himself in their way and, worse, would prove as formidable an obstacle as his reputation would suggest.

And now...now he was the one who was expected to remove that obstacle...

As he looked at the gently swelling ocean below him, DeSean knew he wasn't afraid. Sure, he was only human, but his defining characteristic was his confidence in his own abilities. Darkness could win all the EWI's he wanted, but the fact remained that DeSean Blackwell was no pushover and he knew that, given half a chance, he could take Darkness to the cleaners.

He shivered as a cool breeze blew in off the sea and turned away. He began walking back to the hotel, feeling a flush of renewed confidence. Darkness could be beaten: it had happened before and it would happen again.

And DeSean Blackwell would be the man to do it.

* * *

"Okay, don't panic..."

He was in the locker room, pacing in circles. "Don't panic..." he repeated.

There was no one else there to hear him, but that had never bothered Matt before. He was looking at the floor as he walked and moving his hands. Despite his own advice he could feel a kind of dull terror beginning to churn up in his stomach.

"C'mon, Matt...pull yourself together...all you did was beat the biggest legend in the industry within two months of joining the roster...it's no big deal..."

It was a big deal. He knew it, the fans knew it and management damn sure knew it. Everyone had expected him to make a good showing, sure, but to win? To actually win?

"Goddamn..."

He looked up at himself in the mirror, reflexively flinching as he half-expected to see the black and silver paint still there. Instead he saw his own, perfectly normal, slightly scarred after his match with Titanium Insomniac, pink face. His eyes were a little wider than normal though, like he was permanently shocked.

Matt figured that he probably was.

Still...everyone in that arena knew how he'd won. Matt wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. He didn't know Darkness; had never spoken to the guy. He seemed like the type who got pretty into his gimmick, maybe he used the same one in every promotion or something. Mind you, Matt had never heard of him before coming here.

"Maybe he has to change his name for copyright reasons like Gangrel..."

One thing he knew though was that if he was nervous stepping into the ring with TI, he was ten times more nervous now. Against TI he had known he was in for an ass-kicking, and he'd taken it like a man before pulling out a win against all the odds.

But now...

"Now I might actually win..." he gulped, still looking into his own eyes.

* * *

They were nervous: all of them. Three men, all with no idea how to proceed, with no idea what the future would hold, waiting for something to change and make it all better.

Well that wasn't going to happen.

A pair of eyes watched Darkness leave his hotel. Knuckles cracked.

"This is your time," Pryce's voice came from behind him.

Drakus nodded silently as his eyes continued to follow the shadowy figure in the fading light. Pyrce turned away and stepped back into his car, leaving Drakus with a speech he had been waiting to give for half a year.

"This is why you were brought here. This is your purpose. Fail here and this is all over."

Drakus nodded again.

"Show him the meaning of pain, Drakus. Be who you were born to be."

He was a weapon; a tool. He always had been, but no one had seen it yet because this was the first time he'd been given the right task.

Darkness, DeSean, Strikmore...they were all confused, doubting themselves and their futures. Three men united by a common lack of cause.

But Drakus? Drakus knew exactly what was going to happen. And it wasn't going to be pretty.

The laughter trickles down from his head to his mouth with no obvious pattern, like droplets of condensation slowly, equisititely making they're way down a pane of glass. It trickles and it babbles and it merrily goes about its own laughing business as MacAvoy makes his way out of the library. He had felt the shudders in his torso and new that that the simple snigger was growing and mutating and turning into an altogether more vicious customer. The laughter now came from his chest. Loud and deep and bitter and with a dirty rasp that revealed the true nature of this laugh. This was no laugh in the face of danger. This was no evil soliloquy to wallow in the oppulance of that last witty retort he had made, but made only after he was sure they where out of earshot. This laugh was a dam. This laugh was a temporary wall his subconscious had constructed to fight against a rising tide of problems and issues and psycosises and closeted skeletons. On that knife-edge, finely balanced between his mess of a mind and his goddamned inbuilt stubbornness, that need to give up and crawl into a ball and that will to just keep going and going and going, MacAvoy finally went to a place that had expected his arrival for quite some time. His controll had deserted him almost as quick as PD's would in a house full of man-ho's. Cause you see, PD likes the sausage and MacAvoy had just lost his mind.

Later

Quinn opened that latch of the door and to an extent pushed and to an extent supported MacAvoy, making his way into the rented accommodation. No matter where in the world they seemed to go and no matter what phat palatial mansions they seemed to find, the scar that ran down his face still seemed to itch. He'd noticed the partially scabbed over letters scoured into the forearm of MacAvoy. E C F. How could this kid think he was an icon of a company he'd never had more than a cup of coffee with. This had caused Quinn to contemplate the man himself. Quinn had been through some shit in the past and knew the expression written subtely across the complection of MacAvoy. He recognised the deadness in the eyes and sight of caked trails of saline that traced where the tears had careered down the face of MacAvoy. The thing he didn't quite know how to factor in was the slight upturning of the lips of MacAvoy to give the subtlest expression of a smile. It was incomfortable and unnerving. Stupid fuckin' kid, he'd barely had a fuckin' life, not enough to warrant this though. Quinn had some, let us say acquaintances, in the Spanish underworld and had called in a few lesser markers to find the whereabouts of his bosses erstwhile tag team partner for the week. He wasn't gonna waste any favors on a scrawny little punk like MacAvoy.

Quinn leaned his quarry against a wall and made his way down to the bedroom. He made sure not to step in the small droplets of blood that littered the floor made up of sun-baked tiles. Not because he cared about the mess, but because he had always been the superstitious sort and there was bad karma from being covered in a friends blood. He couldn't really understand how there could still be anything dripping from the wound located on the back of Lupelli's cranium. He seen the blood, the pints of blood that had slowly oozed out onto the floor of the room he had located him in. Lupelli had gone there under the assumption that this was where TI was situated this week. Quinn had found no trace when he arrived there after receiving a slurred call from Lupelli. He didn't like the fact that this joker had tricked Lupelli twice in the same night. He hadn't met anybody who had crossed Lupelli twice. Not twice in the same lifetime anyway. He walked into the bedroom. Everyone knew the score. No hospitals. Keep him comfortable; keep him stable, till the private physician could be flown in. As bad as he knew this was, he also knew it would only keep Supreme down for days, not weeks. As much as blood had unsettled him, it wasn't the physical harm that concerned Quinn. It was how Lupelli would process this mentally. He and Valentina made eye contact. She had sent him to track down MacAvoy as soon Quinn had returned originally with Lupelli. She wanted as much muscle as she could muster. She knew something was wrong by the way Quinn didn't speak first.

Valentina - You did find him, didn't you?

Quinn - Most of him.

Valentina - He was attacked too? How badly is he hurt? Another hammer attack to the skull?

Quinn - Not in the way you think. He's fucked up, that MacAvoy. In the head. I talked to a few eyewitnesses. All TI did was talk to him. For less than three minutes. And left. They said that MacAvoy just started walking and laughing. I think TI cracked him like a boiled egg. Oh they remembered the laugh. Fuckin' terrified some old mamacita. Thought El Satanico had possessed the kid. Laughed so hard he started crying. Then click. He just shut down. Little fuckin' pussy. I found him just sitting against a wa.......

But Valentina has heard enough. She s already making her way towards MacAvoy. She gets all up his face and shit.

Valentina - Damn it I hate it when I'm wrong. I thought I saw something of Anthony's strength in you. I was wrong. Very wrong.

She slaps MacAvoy across the face. A second time. A third. MacAvoy doesn't even flinch.

Valentina - Through him in with Breed, I don't have time for any of this. Maybe if we're lucky he can beat some sense into him.

Valentina returns to her beau as Quinn helps MacAvoy to the room Breed has taken residence in. Quinn dumps him in a corner.

Quinn - I need an f'n drink.

For a time, both (I'll use the word men here) men are undisturbed in this room of darkness and silence and dust and decay. Like flecks of light in front of his eyes, though, images flash across MacAvoy's mind, glimpses and reflections of waiting in a dark room like this. For a time. For such a long time. The same smell of musk. Something deep in MacAvoy grabs for them, as they twist in the wind and refuse to come to a complete halt. Pain replaces the smile on the face of MacAvoy and this causes a most peculiar occurrence. The great blue behemoth moves. And goes over. And picks MacAvoy up.

And he growls with his lower deep guttural voice.

Breed, or whoever used to be Breed, recognises something familiar in this .........icon.

He knows of pain.

Kermit sat silently in his leather chair, relishing in his wealth and stature. It wasn't often that one of his plans failed and this one was going exactly as he intended. JE was going to prove a useful ally in his tear across the face of TCW. He started from his reverie when he noticed one of his lackeys walking in.

"Ah, Animal. Youv'e been tailing Father Savage, correct?"

"ANIMAL! ANIMAL!! ANIMAAAAAAL!!!" His lackey started to gnaw on the chair.

"Animal, what did I tell you about freaking out?" Kermit stared at his lackey with narrowed eyes.

"Sorry boss," Animal said, collecting hismelf, "Had some bad acid."

"So tell me about Savage. What has he been doing all day?"

Animal handed Kermit a portfolio with his exploits written down:

Father Savage:

8:00 am- Drank three shots of whiskey, had sex with nun

9:00 am- Smoked bowl, had sex with another nun

10:00 am- Smoked a bowl while having sex with another nun

11:00 am- Vanished into the bathroom for an hour, presumably having sex with another nun

...

Kermit looked up at Animal, his eyes wide. "And this is all that he does?" His lackey nodded. Kermit shook his head and set the portfolio down as he pondered on things. That's right, Kermit was a ponderer. "Hmm... a plan is forming," he said, standing up. "Let's go!"

Elsewhere, Jack Frost was feverishly busting out some sit-ups. Sweat glistened on his brow from his exercising. He hadn't heard from his father lately, but he was sure he would soon. After all, he had done it. Despite what his father had told him, he had beaten Obsidian in the ring. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders after the referee had called for the bell, but once he had passed the curtain and gone to his locker room, the weight had started to slide back in. It was up to him to make sure that his victory was no fluke.

He paused mid-sit-up and glanced at the match listing for Retribution. Kojack was busy defending his title, leaving the ever-annoying Father Savage as his partner. All he knew about Savage was that he insisted on calling him Back Crust. Still, he could do it. Even if his partner was a certifiable nut-job, Frost would make sure that he got another win. One win might be a fluke, but two in a row would be a wave of momentum that he could ride all of the way to a championship. Frost smiled for a moment before continuing his sit-ups.

"Hellooooooo? Back Crust?" Savage poked his head in through the door and glanced down at Frost. "Have you seen Back Crust?"

Frost sighed and sat up. "You've met me twice already. I'm Back Cr- Jack Frost."

Savage grinned and shoved the door open, inviting himself in. "Excellent! Pleased to meet you Back Crust! I bring great tidings!"

"Jack. Frost."

Savage furrowed his brow. "Clearly, that is what I said. Do you have bad hearing, Back Crust?"

Frost sighed and waved his hand. "Forget it, it doesn't matter. What's your tidings?"

"The Lord hath shown me a great victory coming to us!" Savage held his hand up in the air for dramatic effect. It was really quite cool. "Of course, the Lord also told us that we would face a great danger. No idea what he was babbling about there..." Savage stared off thoughtfully into the distance.

Frost started to say soemthing, but finally thought better of it, resuming his sit-ups.

"What are you doing, Back Crust?"

"Sit-ups. What does it look like?" Frost said, annoyed at the stupidity of his partner.

"It looks like a lot of work. If you want to feel ready to conquer the world, then I, Father John Savage have just the thing!"

Frost felt something drop down onto his stomach and lifted his head, looking at a bag of pills. "What the hell is this? Steroids!? I don't need steroids! Are you nuts!?"

Savage looked confused. "These aren't steroids. They're the LORD'S steroids. Big difference. They work for Barry Bonds..."

Frost lifted the bag with his thumb and forefinger like it was a dirty diaper and tossed it across the room where it landed in the garbage can. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need to put crap into my body."

"Good choice, it's just not healthy," Savage said, removing a flask from his pocket and taking a swig. He followed that up with a cigarette. "Want one?" he asked, holding the pack toward his parnter.

Frost declined, shaking his head again. Savage shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm going to do my usual harass my opponents thing. See you later!"

There's just a bunch of elsewheres in this post because JE was doing something elsewhere, too. He was getting it on with Jess. I'd describe it, but I'm a gentleman and that wouldn't be right. Let's just play some sweet jazz saxophone and let things happen.

Once he was done, JE strolled into the bathroom to rinse off in the shower. He turned on the water, reaching in to check the temperature. Finding it comfortable, he stepped in and began washing himself. That's what people do in the shower, after all. Several minutes of washing excitement passed before JE shut the water off.

"That's better," he said. He reached through the curtain and grabbed for a towel. His hand made contact with the towel rack, but the towel was gone. "Terrific," he muttered, shoving the curtain open and stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom. "Hey Jess?" he called.

"What?" came her reply, still from the bedroom.

"Are there any towels out there?"

"No!"

"What the hell? Remind me to get really pissed off at the hotel staff later!" He made a mental note of it himself, as getting pissed at people was one of his favorite activities.

"You must work out."

JE whipped around, covering up his nether-regions with his hands. "Who the fuck are you!?"

"I am Father John Savage! REPENT!!" Savage stood up from the toilet where he had been sitting.

"Get the fuck out of my bathroom!" JE said, not quite believing that this was happening. "Wait... How the hell did you get IN to my bathroom? I locked the door!"

Savage looked around a moment and shrugged. "You know, I don't really know. I smoked a couple of bowls before coming over here. Things are pretty hazy."

"When I get clothes on, you're dead meat, pal!" JE was starting to get mad, which as I mentioned was one of his favorite things to do.

Savage held up his hands. "No need to get upset JV."

"JE."

"That's what I said."

"You said JV! My name is JE!"

"I know!"

"Then why did you call me JV!?"

"I didn't, JV. Don't you know your own name?"

Have you ever wanted to know what the sound of a man of the cloth being thrown through a bathroom door was? Well, I can't quite duplicate it, but there was a lot of splintering wood and thumping and yelling involved. JE followed Savage through the make-shift open door, pulling on a pair of shorts.

"You're dead meat pal!" he hollered, reaching for Savage...

A day passed, the MVC defeated the Sewer Kings and everything seemed to be working well

"See, man? I told you..."

Thorne only shook his head in reply to Spike's little tirade.

The two had been having this half conversation for about 30 minutes by now, and as far as the man who was sitting with his back to them at the coffee shop, it was leading nowhere. He had heard 30 minutes of smugness, 30 minutes of cockiness and 30 minutes of blunt bravado.

"I told you that they wouldn't be a problem, big out classed, over-aged wankers."

Thorne shook his head again and this time, Spike looked upset.

"Look, man they won't be a prob, I can assure you that much right here and now!"

Thorne simply looked at his partner and sighed.

"Whatever, I don't care what you think big guy...Well...I do, but not like that."

Thorne shook his head for a third time and this time; Spike had no reply save a few sounds.

Things were quiet for about 4-5 minutes before that annoying British accent started up again.

"So they got a match with the Sewer Kings, and we didn't...Big deal, eh?"

Thorne said nothing, but Spike didn't care much.

"Well, yeah of course it is, they run around here thinking they are the big fucking deal or something..."

The man behind them had had enough of this strange duo and left, leaving his barely touched meal on the table and a small amount of cash on the table. Spike and Throne sat in quiet for a good 10 minutes, and as soon as Spike saw that no one was coming to take the food on the table behind him, he got up, walked over to the table behind him, sat down and ate the food.

After he was finished he looked around in a way that was as casual as he could muster and pocketed the money. He then left the table and went to sit down with his team mate again.

"That's one thing this team IS good for."

Spike got pale and his facial expression changed.

"NO, and I won't take that from you!"

"Of course we will take them on there's no problems...Look..."

At this point, the debate died down as the diner was visited by two men the Hellions knew very well. Frankie Hayes Jr. and James Hawk entered hopefully looking for some lunch. Spike fired off a grim smirk and said to his partner.

"Listen to me mate, we have them right here right now, what do you say we make them..."

Spike dragged his right index finger across his throat, an action that to Spike's surprise went down well with Throne. The smaller man first got up followed by his partner. As they slowly and quietly walked up to their would-be opponents, Spike grinned. As he was only inches from his opponent he opened his mouth and said.

"My friend don't like you."

Frank and Jesse both turned around from where they had sat down and stared at them. Spike both saw their confusion and their surprise and suppressed a wide grin.

"And to be perfectly fucking honest, I don't like the two of you that much either."

Frank and James looked at each other then at Spike again.

"Look, I know this got off to a bad start and everything...I'm..." James began stretching out his hand.

Spike ignored the hand and continued.

"Yeah, you could say it was a bad start...the thing is, I don't really think the two of you have any business being here at all."

Frank who had been sitting by in quietness raised his voice.

"Look buddy, I have no idea what your problem is...in fact I have no intention in finding out what it is, but you have taken this too far!"

Spike looked at his opponent and asked.

"Oh really? Have I? Have I taken this in the wrong direction?"

Thorne was feeling uncomfortable now, the large man saw that this was a bad idea and had been one from the start. Spike had the strange problem that he was unable to really coexist with people. Having grown up under those circumstances he had little to do apart from that. In Throne's mind, Spike was a trouble, necessary but still trouble.

Spike smirked as the two veterans both looked startled; this wasn't the way things happened to them, was it?

"I have seen exactly what you two can do." Spike started "and I'm not in the least impressed." he concluded.

Frank Hayes Jr. was quite a young man, he had experience but he was when it came down to the details, not much older then Spike or Throne. And as they spoke, his temper began to rise. Without a single word, he rose from his chair, dropping it behind him making the people in the bar stop eating and take a look. A nearby waitress tried to calm him down, to no avail. She was speaking Spanish at first and then very badly broken English. Frank Hayes Jr. ignored her. He had been doing things the easy way in Japan, or what he now knew to be the easy way for years, he had fought enemies that were too powerful to stop on your own, he had James as his back up...This wasn't going to end pretty.

At this time, James Hawk got up from his seat, a lot less comfortably then his partner, but still he got up. It had past the point of being nice and friendly, they had had no quarrel with these "Hellions" whoever they were. They had shown up at the show and this...this young punk Spike had begun to talk crap to him. James Hawk wasn't a selfish man, far from it. He spent his time moulding Frank Hayes Jr. to the point where they were, a great tag team with great things in their sights. He wouldn't shake things up or let things be shook up, but this guy...this little prick was getting on his nerves.

Spike just grinned like there was nothing more on his mind then this wicked grin, nothing more then the feeling of everything just being right. He thought about this coming fight and how he, for the first time would see Thorne in action outside the ring, outside the rules, deep down in his rotten carcass of a soul he enjoyed it.

Frank was the first to throw a punch, James tried to find a reason to stop him but couldn't find one, so he joined in too.

The fight was in many ways typical, Frank and James both knew how to fight, Spike did too...but Throne, Thorne was another issue; the big man grabbed James across the head and squeezed. The yelp that escaped the veteran alerted his partner who let go of the barely conscious Spike and rushed to his partner's aid. The fight between Thorne and James Hawk hadn't lasted more then a second or so, Thorne held his opponent in a fast grip that he refused to let go of. Frank rushed up to the huge man and threw a series of punches his way. Each of the punches seemed to register with the big man who after a few of them, let the older wrestler go.

James Hawk fell on his ass and rubbed his temples as he got up. He was just about to say that this was an unexpected situation to his partner when he realised that Frank Hayes Jr. was currently not responding to anything. Spike who had been bruised by the younger member of the team was now holding a syringe jammed into Hayes neck.

Hawk saw the sick grin on the madman's lips and said.

"Ok, look...This was a bad idea...now please we can just let this go, nothing will happen..."

The sickness of the grin that he got back from Spike was troubling the British man smiled as he spoke.

"Well, that's one thing you're right about Jimmy...Nothing will happen...and that's exactly the way we want it to go...isn't that right?" Spike asked while looking at Thorne.

Spike's smile grew even wider.

"That's right man, exactly what I thought."

James Hawk watched in horror as they took his half unconscious partner away, slowly step by step, James Hawk saw them walk away and he cursed.

ooc: (Right after the show)

Hours had passed since RevoluCion and the brawl that happened ended, DeSean stands in Infinity's dressing room looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, clutching his injured arm and thinking about his match against Freya one more time. DeSean heard an saying about seizing the opportunities given to you because you're never sure when you'll see that opportunity again well in his match against Freya he seized it.

Freya pulls Blackwell to his feet once again. She whips Blackwell to the other side and goes for a dropkick...but Blackwell holds onto the ropes and she comes down on her knee. Blackwell moves in, grabs her legs, and ties her up in an elevated Texas Cloverleaf.

Cain: Blackwell has the Leg Stretcher locked on!

DeSean saw the opportunity and seized it

Blackwell applies as much pressure as he possibly can, crying out almost as much as Freya is. He screams to the arena lights, his eyes clenched tight. Freya's yells are more throaty, more strained.

He could feel it; finally it was going to happen all it took was a couple of more seconds

The crowd cheers wildly for Freya. Hang on. Hang on for just a few more seconds...hang on...

The fans always doubted DeSean but tonight he didn't care, they weren't going to take this away from him, he looked up at the clock, time was ticking and it looked like time was speeding up. He reared back on the leg more, he didn't care about Freya's career all he cared about was winning and the righting the wrongs that were done to him, and he refused to be screwed over, not this time. He yelled for Freya to tap, pulling back even more.

One wonders if they can hear cartilage cracking.

DeSean: Freya TAP!

She's had enough. The referee calls for the bell as Freya's hand finally hits the mat.

The crowd checks the clock. Two. One.

The official bell rings to end the match.

He had done it, he was one step closer to achieving his goal, his dream, he proved everyone wrong, he defeated the Golden Girl. He looked over at Freya who was on the ground clutching her injured knee, he tried to say something but he couldn't get any words out, he just started to breathe heavily

Blackwell slumps to the mat, his non-injured arm raised in victory.

Announcer: Here is your winner..."THE TECHNICIAN" DESEAN BLACKWELL!!!!

As his arm went in the air, DeSean felt a sense of calmness around him, there was silence as if timed had just slowed down. The crowd was yelling and clearly pissed about the outcome. He felt the smooth and soft hands of Tiffany go around his waist, she whispered in his ear.

Tiffany: You did it, you won

DeSean nodded his head and said nothing, he clutched his arm and slowly walked out the ring.

Tiffany: How are you feeling?
...............................................
That was the question that Tiffany asked, a simple question that had no simple answer, he couldn't put into words what he was feeling. His win meant a lot of things to him and others so in a way it was a bittersweet feeling. Winning his match meant he was step closer to the world title but it also meant more pressure to win his match and bring the title to Infinity. Speaking of which he didn't understand what was going on with PD and why he attacked him. It confused and angered him at the same time, for all the things they did for PD and his family. DeSean standing up for PD and even going as far as to opting out of putting his name on the title. He looked at the belt one more time and laid it back down beside him.

Shadow: It's a nice belt isn't it?

DeSean heard the voice of his fellow tag partner and champion and turned

DeSean: It is but it wasn't the belt I was thinking about

Shadow: Which belt?

DeSean: Good point, I was just thinking about everything that's happened tonight and this past week, it's been real stressful.

Shadow: Of course, people in our business tend to get stressed out but we let the stress go in the ring that is what you're going to have to do. I know you're focused on Darkness

DeSean: Fuck him, I'm not focused on him

Shadow: If you weren't you wouldn't have said that, DeSean if I were you I wouldn't put all my attention on one man, just some words of advice for you.

DeSean nodded his head in the positive direction, showing that he understood everything

DeSean: Hey what's in your hand?

Shadow: Oh, this is a tape

DeSean: A tape?

Shadow: Yes and it would benefit greatly if you decide to watch it

DeSean: Ok

DeSean took the tape out of Shadow's hands, he looked over it as if it was some foreign object he hasn't seen before. When he looked back up to say something to Shadow, he was gone.

DeSean: (sighs) I have to get used to that
................................................
ooc: back in the present

The rookie sensation it's what they called him, they being the Darklings, Drakus watched from the distance as Darkness walked through the hotel doors. Drakus had been known as a monster, a beast plowing through his opponents easily. He came so close to winning the RTG match but he came in second to the eventual TCW champion Dante.

Even through the blood feud he had with Stallion, the night hadn't left his mind and what could have been if he had won the RTG match. But now he had a chance at Redemption, second chances were rare to him and he wasn't going to screw it up.

Pryce: I want you to focus your anger and rage on your opponents but don't do anything that'll hurt you, you need to be in that match.

Rage and anger were the only things that filled his soul and it would be those things that will help him win this match.
....................................................
CRACK!

DeSean's eyes closed, he mouthed the words oh shit and opened them back up hoping that it was just a bad dream and he would end up back in his hotel room but it was real very real. He felt the cold rain hit his face and fill up the crack tape, he reach down and grabbed what was left of the tape, he put the tape in his pants.

Matt: I'm sorry man, it was an accident

DeSean closed his eyes and took a deep breathe composing himself

DeSean: It's cool, I didn't want to look at it anyway

DeSean eyed his opponent up and down, this was the guy who defeated TI, people were calling him the next rookie sensation, the next Darkness. Matt was good, very good not many people can say they've beaten TI with or without help and DeSean respected that. He did something that he rarely did, he held out his hand. Matt knew about DeSean's reputation as being an untrustworthy asshole a guy who doesn't believe in sportsmanship and has no problems of hurting his opponents before their match. He slowly reached his hand out and grabbed DeSean's, they both slowly shook hands and released.

DeSean: Matt Strikmore, you're good, I like your style, I'm not to happy with you beating an Infinity member but it's cool, you won it's a W in the record books.

Matt: Yes it is but I didn't have anything to do with Darkness interfering

DeSean: I know you didn't, it's funny in a way he's responsible for both of us being here and neither one of us asked for his help.

Matt: That's true

DeSean: I don't know about you but I'm tired of Darkness sticking his nose in other people's business, trying to hog the spotlight for himself.

DeSean was told plenty of times not to focus his attention on Darkness, so he wouldn't he was going to get his other two opponents to do it for him.

DeSean: It's raining pretty hard, how about we find some shelter maybe grab something to eat? Is that cool with you and don't worry I won't hit you in the head with a plate or a beer bottle.

Matt: Right about now that does sound pretty good

DeSean: Cool, let's go.

AFTER REVOLUCION

Drakus strides through the lockerroom, brushing aside the insignificant insects who try to cross his path. The blood is still pounding in his head from the match. His hand is trembling -- with nervous energy, he tells himself. People backstage whisper and look the other way as Drakus passes by. Maybe it's because of the blood caked on his face, the sheen of sweat on his pale skin or the crazed look in his eyes. Whatever the reason, it elicits the response Drakus most enjoys seeing in other people's eyes: fear.

Pryce: "Congratulations!"

His lawyer is waiting with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Pryce fills a glass and holds it out for his client.

Pryce: "Another triumph. I never doubted you."

Drakus reaches for the glass -- and stumbles. The champage flute shatters on the ground in front of him. Drakus steadies himself with a hand on the wall. Suddenly his vision is blurry and the room is spinning. His breathe is suddenly raspy, and there's a sharp pain in his chest. Someone is coming towards him fast.

"Hey, are you OK?"

It takes concentration to focus. The speaker is Adam Wilson, Twisted Championship Wrestling's senior road agent and trainer. Despite his previous less-than-cordial conversations with Drakus, there is genuine concern on Wilson's face thanks to the sight of Drakus' near collapse. Drakus is still leaning against the wall, head down, afraid he may fall to his knees if he tries to move.

Wilson: "Drakus? Are you alright? Should I get Trevor?"

Pryce puts himself between Wilson and his client.

Pryce: "That won't be necessary, Mr. Wilson."

Wilson: "Are you sure?"

He tries to move around Pryce, but the lawyer blocks him.

Pryce: "Quite sure. Now if you'll excuse us, Drakus has celebration to attend to."

Drakus tastes blood and vomit rising in his throat. Pryce takes him by the arm and leans in close.

Pryce (softly): "Into the lockerroom, quickly."

Leaning on the smaller man, Drakus stumbles into the small lockerroom. Pryce slams the door behind them and locks it before setting Drakus down.

Pryce: "Look what a mess you've made of yourself!"

Drakus puts a hand on his shoulder. It comes away wet with fresh blood from the wound made by Hardy's knifework.

Drakus: "Stitches didn't hold."

Pryce rolls his eyes.

Pryce: "I told you ..."

Drakus: "Save it."

Pryce: "You had to drag yourself out of that hospital bed so you could face Hardy before your match, try to intimidate him."

Drakus: "Worked, didn't it?"

Pryce looks down at Drakus, contemptuous.

Pryce: "Like a charm."

Drakus: "I won."

He closes his eyes, hoping that will stop the lightheadedness. His breathing is shallow, to avoid the darts of pain that come with every deep inhalation. Drakus hears Pryce making a terse cell call, something about bringing the car around.

Pryce: "Five minutes, then we're walking out of here."

The sharp, commanding tone of that statement catches Drakus off guard.

Drakus: "What?"

Pryce: "Do you want to look weak? If you leave on a stretcher, your opponents will know you can barely defend yourself. You'll make yourself a target. What do you think they'll do then?"

Drakus swallows.

Drakus: "Finish me off."

Pryce: "Just as you would do if your positions were reversed. So what are you going to do?"

Drakus doesn't answer. His eyes are closed. He can still hear Pryce, but his lawyer's voice seems very far away. The stinging pain of a slap to the face brings Drakus back to awareness.

Pryce: "Get up now!"

Hands grasp Drakus by the shoulders, one of them pressing on his now oozing knife wound. He lashes out. The hard shove sends Pryce sprawling. Drakus pushes himself to a standing position, now panting hard. He puts his hands on his legs, leans forward and spews the contents of his pre-match meal onto the lockerroom floor. Several heaves later, Drakus wipes his mouth and stands up straight.

Drakus: "Let's go already."

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The short walk to Pryce's waiting towncar and the drive back to the hotel are a blur. When Drakus arrives, he collapses on the bed less than a minute after stepping foot inside his room. He wakes hours later, to the sight of a long-haired old man leaning over him, humming as he applies some kind of foul-smelling sludge to Drakus' open wound.

Drakus: "What the hell!?"

Pryce: "Calm down, Drakus ..."

The room begins to come into focus. Pryce is standing by the bed, shirt sleeves rolled up, next to the old man.

Pryce: "This is Don Gonzalo. He's a healer."

Drakus examines the deeply lined face of the old man. His face would indicate a man in his seventies, but the hair that reaches almost halfway down the old man's back is pitch black. He's not Puerto Rican, or even a typical Mexican. His skin is a darker russet color, and his features aren't at all European.

Drakus (weakly): "You got some Indian witch doctor to fix me up?"

Pryce: "Maya, actually. You can't go back to the hospital without it becoming known, and you have to be ready to travel. It's the only viable option."

The old man nods at Drakus and continues his work. From a shallow bowl he scoops out a handfull of warm sludge and presses it against Drakus' stab wound.

Drakus: "What is that shit?"

Pryce: "Some kind of poultice, I suppose. I don't question Don Gonzalo's methods."

The old man sets down the bowl on the bedstand and picks up a half-smoked cigarillo. He takes a puff, then blows smoke on the wound, causing a coughing fit from his patient.

Drakus: "Knock it off, apple head!"

Don Gonzalo ignores Drakus. He takes another puff before settling down his cigarillo and returning to the rotten poultice.

Drakus: "Does he even speak English, Pryce?"

Gonzalo: "Yes."

The old man rubs more of his concoction on Drakus' wound. Seemingly satisfied, he begins bandaging the area.

Gonzalo: "Keep this on for a day. No strain, or you'll make it worse."

Pryce: "I'll find a discrete doctor in Madrid. Don Gonzalo tended to your ribs as well, but even his considerable talents have their limits."

Surprisingly, Drakus begins to notice that the pain isn't nearly as bad. Whatever the old man did while he was out seems to be helping.

Gonzalo: "Drink this."

He hands Drakus a cup of some strange, greenish-brown tea. Drakus sniffs it and wrinkles his nose.

Pryce: "Go on, do as he says."

Trying not to breathe at the same time, Drakus gulps down the bitter liquid as quickly as possible. He almost gags, but a hard look from Gonzalo convinces Drakus to finish it.

Gonzalo: "Good. Three cups every day, for a week."

Drakus: "You making more of this stuff to take with me?"

Pryce: "Actually, Don Gonzalo will be accompanying us to Spain. If you're to be in any condition to fight, it will take the combined skills of modern medicine and his particular folk remedies."

Gonzalo taps the now empty cup with a long fingernail.

Gonzalo: "Strong medicine."

Pryce: "And you'll need all you can get."

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MADRID

Settling into his hotel suite, Drakus can't help but be impressed. They have a whole floor to themselves, with seperate accomodations for Pryce and Gonzalo, not to mention an impressive view of the city. As the sun sinks below the horizon, Drakus takes full advantage of the view.

Drakus: "What about the others?"

Pryce: "They're all in Madrid. But you will of course be keeping your distance."

Drakus: "Files?"

Pryce: "Of course."

He sets down four dossiers on the desk.

Pryce: "You're already acquainted with Mr. Blackwell."

Drakus: "Not nearly well enough."

Their match at Friction back in May hadn't happened thanks to a two-on-one backstage ambush by the Mancini brothers. Drakus had made the Mancinis regret that night, but it left him with a nagging question in the back of his mind -- what could have been if he and Blackwell had faced each other in the ring? Before Friction he'd been confident that DeSean Blackwell posed no real threat. But now things had changed. With Infinity behind him, the odds are stacked heavily in the Technician's favor.

Pryce: "And then, of course, there is Mr. Dante's new partner, Darkness."

Pryce's mention of Jason Dante has the desired effect on Drakus. His jaw clenches at the memory of the indignities suffered by Dante during his first affiliation with the Hellfire Club. It was their initiation rites that demanded Dante sacrifice Drakus to demonstrate his new loyalty, a task Dante had eagerly carried out. This time, Dante is the leader, and Darkness the lacky sent out to do his bidding. History repeats itself.

Drakus: "Not this time ..."

Pryce: "What was that?"

Drakus: "The Hellfire Club. They ruined my life once. Won't happen again."

Pryce: "I'm sure you won't. However, I must point out that Darkness is an extremely dangerous individual. For the time being, the best course of action would be to avoid him entirely."

Drakus: "I can be dangerous too."

Pryce: "Certainly. Unfortunately, you would be at a disadvantage against a man who doesn't leave home without a small arsenal of lethal weapons on his person."

Drakus: "What about the new guy?"

Pryce: "Ah, Matt Strikmore. His defeat of the Titanium Insomniac has earned him an overnight reputation."

Drakus: "Nothin' I didn't do first."

Pryce shrugs.

Pryce: "There is some good news regarding Strikmore. The match against the Insomniac apparently took quite a toll on his body. He's vulnerable -- and undoubtedly feeling apprehension related to his sudden ascension to such a lofty and heavily scrutinized position within the federation."

Drakus: "Maybe. But if TI didn't shake him ..."

Pryce: "There are other approaches."

For the next few minutes, Drakus flips through the three men's files. Pryce has done his usual thorough job, collecting relevant information about fighting styles, strenghts and weaknesses, personal habits that could prove useful to know about. It's not enough, though. Not for this match. Drakus needs something more to reassure himself that he isn't hiding. He needs to act, to make himself known somehow.

Drakus: "I want to see them."

Pryce: "When?"

Drakus: "Tonight. Now."

Pryce: "Need I remind you that you need time to heal?"

Drakus: "I just want to see. The rest can wait until later."

Pryce: "Very well. Who shall we visit first?"

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Pryce's towncar idles across the street from the hotel where Darkness is staying. Drakus and his attorney wait until the former world champion emerges. At the sight of Dante's lapdog, Drakus cracks his knuckles, anticipating the pleasure of doing to Darkness what had once been done to him.

Pryce: "This is your time."

Drakus nods, his eyes never leaving Darkness. Pryce steps back into the car.

Pryce: "This is why you were brought here. This is your purpose. Fail here, and this is all over. Show him the meaning of pain, Drakus. Be who you were born to be."

Watching Darkness, hearing those words, Drakus is sorely tempted to ignore the dull pain in his shoulder and chest, to follow Darkness down some dead end alley and obtain the messy gratification he so desires. Even knowing about Darkness' weapons, his years of training, Drakus still wants the feeling of bone breaking under his fists. But that's not why he's here. Pain doesn't have to be physical, as Pryce reminded him.

Pryce: "Very well then, you know what you have to do. A car will pick you up when you've finished."

He hands Drakus an envelope of pictures. With them, Drakus can open old wounds, remind Darkness what he really is underneath his pretensions of honor and duty to a higher cause. Drakus opens the envelope, looks at a police photo of a young woman with an ugly black and blue bruise on her face -- Darkness' handiwork, according to Pryce. Not as good as the job Drakus did on his dad, but definitely an enthusiastic effort on the hero's part.

Pryce: "Go."

The car pulls away. Drakus tucks the photo back in its envelope. Time to dredge up some ugly memories.

The curtain was behind Kojack, he had exited the ring once again and just like the first time he was very pleased with himself. He first gave a verbal beating to Flehr and then it became physical. He left his opponent and his friend down for the count, they were not going to be chasing after Kojack for awhile. But the best feeling he had was this rush inside him, the fire was burning. His passion seemed to be rekindled and the champion was on top of the world.

Kojack: "I'm back baby! Time for a beer."

In another part of the arena, there is a huge ruckus coming out of a room. Inside is Flehr going mad with Barn standing off to the side, waving his arms and trying to calm his friend down.

Dick: "THAT BRETT AND HIS ANTICS! HE IS NO BETTER WHEN I MET HIM THE LAST TIME! I'M GOING TO FINISH HIM OFF LIKE A BOWL OF ICE CREAM ON A HOT DAY.....BROTHER!"

Barn: "Dick why did you just say brother?"

Dick: "Oh did I? WELL WHAT IS WRONG WITH BROTHER WHEEEEEEEE?"

Barn: "Well the thing is that brother is now synonymous with Hogan and...."

Dick: "THAT HOGAN IS NO GOOD! He is nothing like the NATCHA BOY WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! AND I GOT AN IDEA!"

Barn: "Oh God what are you going to do..."

Dick struts around the room as Barn shakes his head. He knows the day is about to get a lot worse.

Back to Kojack who is now sitting at a bar with a beer in his hand. He is going over his strategy in his mind, how is he going to deal Flehr. Kojack knew he had the speed, strength, agility, and stamina advantage but Flehr did have some experience and that X-factor that make people unpredictable. While twirling a peanut in his hand, Kojack knew how to beat a person like Flehr. He was not to think and just keep on hitting. With his speed and strength, Kojack could create an offensive pace so fast that Flehr would have no chance to recover and do anything crazy which might catch him off guard. Kojack contemplated his strategy in a visual image in his head. His goal was to try to hit the Kojacker in the first 2 minutes of the match to really put Flehr in a hole.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HITMAN HITMAN HITMAN!"

Kojack looks behind him to see an old man in a bath robe followed by another old man behind him. He knew it was Flehr and Barn who followed him here for yet another confrontation.

Kojack: "What do you want now you old man?"

Flehr: "I'm going to get you Hitman. No one puts me in the sharpshooter and gets away with it!"

Kojack: "You know I grew up watching the great Canadian Brett Hart on TV when I was younger. I am going to enjoy emulating him more for your pleasure, how about a pile driver?"

Flehr: "I AM READY WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Kojack gets up and runs towards Flehr to hit him with a close line. However he slips on a banana peel on the way and wobbles towards Flehr who winds up and gives Kojack a chop to his chest while chanting WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Kojack is knocked aback a bit only to slip on another banana peel, hitting his head on the ground and stunning the big man. Flehr sees this opportunity and slowly waltz over to Kojack and grabs his right leg. He goes for the Figure Four Leg Lock but quickly becomes confused in all the legs and feet in his view. Dick becomes frustrated and punches Kojack square in the nuts, executing his famous Figure Fool Leg Lock. Kojack screams in pain and begins to roll on the ground in pain.

Flehr: "Don't ever mess with the NATCHA BOY HITMAN! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Flehr struts around but slips on another banana peel, sending the old man down for the count and also rolling in pain with Kojack. And still at the entrance is Barn still shaking his head.

Barn: "I knew it.."