They called it the Road to Glory, but for everyone but the winner, that road's a one-way street. You walk up it, you find a dead end, and you walk right back. It's the walk back home that's the hardest: not just in the Road to Glory - though it doesn't help seeing the guy coming in after you just got thrown out jogging past you, face full of hope and light - but every time you're not the one with your hand being raised. Why do they make you walk back up the ramp anyway? So the fans, baying like animals, can rub it in? Maybe it's so they can see what kind of man you really are. They say you have to stare into the abyss of defeat before you really know yourself. Do you look it in the eye, head held high, or do you run away with your tail between your legs, whimpering like a puppy?

All this went through DeSean's head as he walked the long road - the one that didn't lead to glory - to the back. Lots of fans in tonight and, yeah, they were baying all right. Maybe it was just the Peruvian crowd, but they sounded a little louder than usual...a little more rabid...

He glanced sideways. A guy with long hair was having some kind of fit, it looked like. Head shaking, foaming at the mouth. He threw his head back, flicking the matted hair from his eyes, revealing smudged face paint and wild eyes. He was wearing a Darkness t-shirt.

"Jesus Christ..."

He'd been seeing that a lot recently, now he thought about it. Darkness fans - what did he call them? Darklings? - taking things a bit too...well...seriously. It was starting to look like a cult or something.

DeSean pushed through the curtains, leaving the roars of the increasingly insane crowd behind him. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, considered his next move. He felt surprisingly satisfied. He wouldn't have thought he would have, but here he was. After battling Strikmore all match, he had to admit it had felt good to eliminate him. It went some way towards vindication and, after all this crap with the Masked Man - sorry, Twisted Brown - he felt ready to put everything they'd been through behind them.

He entered his locker room, sat down on the nearest bench and grabbed a towel. He quickly erected himself a makeshift hermitage with it, draping it across his shaved scalp and letting it hang just over his eyes.

"Better."

He knew he should probably take a shower. If he didn't, and just went back to the hotel and slept, he'd wake up stinking and sore. Part of him wanted to find a TV and see what happened in the Road to Glory though.

"Screw it. Darkness'll win."

He stood up, peeled off his shirt and flung it to one side. Briefly he caught sight of himself in the long mirror on one wall and took a second to look over himself. He was in good shape. Still young, still fit. He was at the top of his game.

But he was tired too. Tired of going back and forth with Strikmore. Tired of meeting the same jerks playing the same dumb games. He didn't become a wrestler for some nutjob in a mask to put incriminating videos of him online. He didn't become a wrestler to play politics with promotions - whether it was Ring of Honor, 411fed, FWRFed or ECF.

He really thought this was going to be his shot this time. He pulled his title belt down from the hook on which it was hung. He saw his reflection again, this time warped and golden, making him look like Frankenstein's Monster in sepia.

The thought made him laugh and he tossed the belt into his bag. Yeah, screw the shower and screw the Road to Glory. He didn't want to know who won, and he didn't care if he woke up stinking and sore and still not knowing too. Back to the hotel and back to bed and no gym tomorrow either - some fool would only attack him.

* * *

"Sit down please."

"I'll stand."

"You always do." Stern affected a smile at Darkness. Like DeSean, he was fresh from the match, sweating, heart-pounding, face paint as smeared as the fan's. The livid scars across his eyes were visible.

"Is this going to take long? I could really use a shower."

"I noticed."

Darkness gave her a flat look. "Should we start again?"

"I'm not happy, Darkness."

"Didn't your protégé just win the Road to Glory?"

"Oh, I'm happy about that. It's you that's displeased me."

"I'm getting pretty good at that."

Stern smirked. "One of your many talents. But what I'm specifically annoyed about is your little stunt with Dante tonight."

"You mean in the ring?"

"No, in the corridor."

Darkness arched an eyebrow. "You mean when we spoke before the show?"

"Yes. Didn't you realise there was a camera running?"

"I saw the camera. I didn't think twice about it."

"Naturally."

Darkness finally sat down. "What's the problem anyway?"

"Cast your mind back almost exactly a year ago, Darkness. You were cutting an incoherent promo at Friction after winning those belts..."

"Has it been a year?"

"Yes it has. You were cutting a promo and I interrupted you. I told you that you were a liability - an unstable element I wanted to be rid of."

"Yes, I recall."

"I was hoping it would be simple. Take your merchandise off the rack, stop you appearing on any shows when it wasn't completely necessary, get rid of your friends, and then find someone to take the World Titles from you."

"Sorry it didn't work out."

"I thought the New Hellfire Club was dead, Darkness. I don't need another obstacle on the path to ridding TCW of you and your kind."

"The NHFC is here to stay, Stern. Dante and Freya will be by my side - if you want to dispose of me, you'll have to dispose of them too."

"Oh I mean to. Don't worry about that. Why do you think I let Lance Canada come back? I was hoping he'd end Dante's career."

"He nearly ended his life..."

Stern shrugged. "An unforeseen consequence. I didn't realise how deep their rivalry went. But rest assured, Dante will be gone soon enough."

"He has a child."

"I saw. Hardly my problem - I'm not really interested in his little brat and his ‘wife'." She didn't bother to hide her contempt.

Darkness was silent for a moment. "You're talking about my friends, Stern - my family."

"Do I strike you as someone who prioritises family over work, Darkness?"

"I suppose not." He stood up. "Was there anything else?"

"No, I just wanted to let you know that your days are numbered. At Endgame, I plan for you to lose those belts."

"Then I hope you have a good challenger lined up."

"Oh I do. I really do."

"I look forward to meeting them. God knows there's few enough people in your employ who I haven't beaten already." He gave her a winning smile as her face darkened.

"You have a match at Friction too," she snapped.

"Good." He started to head towards the door.

"Don't you want to know who it's against?"

"No thanks. I prefer to be surprised."

* * *

By the time DeSean had gathered his possessions and made his way out of the arena, the match was over. The crowd was trickling out through every exit, still hyped from what they'd just seen. Backstage was mercifully free of babbling fans, but he could hear them still, just around the corner, out of sight, murmuring and chatting. Visions of the baying animals returned.

He slipped out of the door to the underground parking lot. It was dark and separate from where the marks had their own vehicles parked, so he was unlikely to be bothered. He pulled the keys to the hire car out of his jacket pocket and pressed the button as he waved it around vaguely, then followed the beep.

Slinging his bag on the back seat, he was just about to get in himself, when he heard a shout.

"Hey, it's DeSean Blackwell!"

"Shit..."

He turned slowly and saw a small knot of people in assorted wrestling shirts heading towards him. They were white and spoke with American accents. That meant they were probably someone in management's friends or family, which explained how they got into this parking lot.

Suppressing his urge to slam the door and drive away, leaving them in a cartoonish cloud of dust, he straightened and forced himself to grin.

"Hey, man - I'm a DeSeaniac!" The lead fan stretched out his t-shirt to demonstrate. It was an old Infinity-themed one.

"Great. You want me to sign something or what?"

"Can I take your picture?" A white girl with a nasal voice held up her cell phone.

"Sure. Why the hell not?"

The flash made him blink. She looked at the screen contemplatively, then shook her head. "You closed your eyes."

"Yeah well, it was bright." He scribbled off a signature onto a ticket stub for the man.

"Can I take another one?"

"Why do you need to see my eyes?" If he'd taken a shower, none of this would have happened.

"I want a good picture!" Her voice was getting very whiny now.

"It's me, isn't it?" He pointed at the picture as she waved it at him. "It couldn't be more me."

"I want a good picture!"

"Hey, asshole!" The voice came from the other side of the parking lot. Everyone turned. A group of shadowy figures moved through the gloom. A bottle was discarded, shattering glass across the asphalt.

DeSean stepped forward. "Hey, man. That's not cool..."

"Not you." The group moved into the light and DeSean frowned. They all either had long hair or were in the process of growing it out and he saw the same smudged make up across their eyes as the fan he'd noticed in the crowd. They all wore shabby leather jackets and black boots.

"Is there a problem?" The self-confessed DeSeaniac drew himself up.

"Yeah. Stop bothering him."

"Who? Me?" DeSean looked around at the strangers. Their leader was getting in the autograph recipient's face. The girl had her phone snatched.

"Hey!" DeSean made a lunge for it, but the thief pulled away.

"Don't you know who this man is?" the leader of the face-painted gang snarled, pulling at his counterpart's lapels.

"He...he's DeSean Blackwell..."

"He's a wrestler. He's in TCW. He deserves your respect."

"They weren't being disrespectful," DeSean insisted, "give her her phone back, asshole."

The leader of the gang was ignoring him. He grabbed the other man's face, and DeSean noticed he was wearing black leather driving gloves. "Don't you know how important his faith is? How important he is to the End Times? What would Darkness say if he knew what you were doing?"

"Shit. You guys are Darklings. What the hell is this?" DeSean finally caught up with the phone thief and yanked it out of his grip.

The leader finally seemed to notice DeSean. "Yeah, we're Darklings. That a problem?"

"Weren't you just chewing them out for being disrespectful to me?"

He pulled out a flick knife and smiled. For the first time, DeSean got a good look at his face and saw that there were two ragged scars carved down his face, like ugly white streams of tears. The black paint was smeared across them.

"Put the knife down, buddy." He kept his voice even.

"I don't think so. We were trying to help you - aren't you grateful?"

"Just put down the knife, and we can talk, okay? You want an autograph? You want to meet Darkness? I can probably find him for you."

"I don't think so..."

"You wanted a war?" another Darkling said.

"What? No I didn't want a damn war! What the hell is this?"

"Don't talk to us about Hell!" the leader of the Darklings roared. He charged DeSean, pressing him up against his hire care and grabbing his face as he had the other man's. The blade was inches from his eyeball. "You don't know a damn thing, DeSean Blackwell! Not a damn thing!"

"What you're going to get is nothing short of an extermination!" a manic voice cackled.

"We thought you were one of the good ones, DeSean. I guess we were wrong. You're just like those other assholes in Infinity."

DeSean didn't take his eyes of the knife. His fans had long fled. He still had the girl's phone - one less person to dial 911, or whatever the hell it was in Peru.

"Would you like some scars like mine? Like Darkness's? Why don't we make you a Darkling too?"

The blade moved closer.

"Why do we wrestle? Huh? Someone answer this question for me?" The year is 2004, he sits on a stool crouched over, hands clasped , looking inside that 12X12 squared circle, inside of the Carolina Sports Arena listening calmly along with 20 other students, the trainer holds his hands up signaling for a show of hands.

"DeSean why did you decide to become a wrestler?"

It took him a while to answer, honestly it was a question he never really asked himself, oh it was easy to answer people usually because it was a dream of his, a dream he could no longer pass off. An itching he could no longer scratch, sure he could have went to college and probably become quite successful inside of an university. He did have an 3.5 GPA, he was on AB Honor roll and offered several scholarships, if not for scholarships he could have easily applied for Financial Aid. So why wrestling?

"I didn't choose wrestling, it chose me" the entire room was silent as the trainer looked at DeSean smiled and said.

"Well son, if this business really chose you. Then it's about to take you on one hell of a ride."

DeSean's eyes opened up again, with the gleam of the knife shining in his eyes almost as if it was teasing personally, preparing him for what was about to happen. He remembers that question 4 1/2 years ago and his answer even to this day he doesn't know why the business chose him, if it really did choose him. He didn't have an answer but he knew it wasn't for this, he didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for crazed fans to stab him in the eye and scar him for life, no not this. Though he was surrounded and very tired, he decided to fight back it was either or possibly lose his vision. He pushed the arm back of the crazed darkling, surprising the fan with his sudden show of strength. With his free hand, DeSean elbowed the leader of the group in his face staggering him.

The darkling dropped the knife and DeSean quickly scooped it up, turning around DeSean noticed that were 4 more crazed fans behind him he knew the rules perfectly if one is surrounded you quickly take out the biggest, baddest, loudest motherfucker in the group focus your attention just on him once you take him out the rest of his friends will either cower in fear or be too shocked to make a move. Knowing this he ran at the leader and front flipped over him, knife in his hand DeSean grabbed the leader by his throat and pointed the knife towards his forehead.

"Everyone back the fuck up! Or this gothic motherfucker finds out the true meaning of a black abyss when this knife enters his fucking temple!" he looks on, knife still in hand as the other darklings stay in place, it was like they didn't expect any of this happen for DeSean to lash out at them. Sure they've seen him cut some passionate promos a lot of them directed their leader Darkness but he always kept a cool demeanor. The Technician was always cool and calm unless he was really angry but he couldn't be that angry could he? Not when they were clearly trying to help him, if anything he betrayed them by turning his back on them not the other way around.
"I swear, if any of you make a move this guy...this guy is going to be utterly fucked beyond belief." it was clear he wasn't ready to take someone's life but he got their attention now.

"Listen to me, all of you. This business and everyone in it is fake! We're all fakes, we're all actors, glorified stuntmen. No matter what we tell you, I don't give a fuck if Valerie Stern says that our matches are real, they're not. They're predetermined, all of us are following a script including me. Darkness is a 41 year old veteran, he's not a demon hunter, he's not from Chicago, Illinois he's not even American for Christ sakes. There's no war coming up. The end of the world isn't upon us and I'm not joining your group. So everyone go home, take off the make up, wash your hair, wash your asses, watch TV, go out get laid, jerk off do whatever is you do. But go home and start living normal adult lives and stop obsessing over fake bullshit because the REAL world doesn't care."

The darklings all stared at him confused, it was if it was the first time someone told them there was no such thing as Santa Claus. They were all bright eyed as DeSean kept the knife pointed at the guy's forehead. Slowly but sure one by one the darklings turned their backs on him and slowly walked away, muttering under their breaths about how crazy DeSean was and asking if each other if it was true. DeSean let go of his grip of the leader of the group who got up quickly before telling DeSean that he was crazy while running away.

"I'm crazy?" DeSean asked himself, shaking his head disappointed that his words fell on death ears. He got in his rental car, turned the ignition and drove off blasting his CD.

"Is it bright where you are?
And have the people changed?
Does it make you happy you're so strange?
And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in its pain"

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

He woke up the next day back sore, head aching looking at the clock he noticed he had one hour to pack his bags and turn in his room key, he goes back to the rental company turns his car before getting back on airplane, flying to Argentina, getting off the plane, hop into a taxi which will take him to another rent-a-car company so he can repeat process. When was the last time he slept in his own bed? Seen any American soil (which he was starting to see the importance in) but who was he kidding? His home was the next hotel room he would stay in, he didn't own a car well he did but he hardly drove it, his car is whatever TCW reserved for him.

"Why do we wrestle?" a question he could never really answer and finding it increasingly hard to answer it.
"I just want to turn in my room key" the Peruvian clerk nodded his head as DeSean gave him his key and left the hotel.

"Hey DeSean I need to speak to you!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, he recognized the voice but it surprised him he never knew that Valerie stayed in the same hotel as the rest of the boys...and girls.

"Yes Valerie?" he wasn't really in the mood, he felt like walking away from her but he didn't feel like playing another pissing contest with her. He waited so she can catch up with him once she did he kept walking.

"Look, I heard what happened last night" she told him.

"Look, I was just defending myself from a bunch of crazy fans, I think it's high time that the company starts to reevaluate how they do business." DeSean replied continuing to walk to his car.

"No, I know that's fine but what you said to them wasn't good. Our aim is gain and keep fans not lose them" she answered back seemingly ignoring the last part of his sentence.

"I know but I was in a life or death situation...besides if I don't tell them they'll continue to harass innocent people or perhaps worse....did you even listen to what I said? It's time for TCW to stop saying our matches as real fights!"

"DeSean are you going soft on me? You knew what you were doing when you signed a contract with this company. Not only that you left and still came back, our fans want shoots, they want fights."

"I know what you're saying I understand completely but...I'm..."

"DeSean you're facing Darkness at Friction." she cut him off, DeSean tried to continue to walk but she grabbed him with her hand.

"Why? I eliminated Matt if anything I should be getting a shot at the TC title."

"Not while you're Aftershock champion, you know the rules. Besides this is an hell of an opportunity. I'm doing you a favor, you beat Darkness in a one on one match and that propels you to the top of the card."

"I dunno it seems like, you're doing this to exploit the fact that I beat up some of his fans."

"Oh no, that's not it. Besides Darkness wouldn't advocate what his fans did last night. I chose you for a reason, you don't show fear when it comes to Darkness. I saw the determination in your eyes, you wanted to beat Darkness that Infinity/NHFC feud I could see it DeSean you made it your goal to challenge him I need that, now granted I can't give you a World title shot because of Indigo but DeSean I need someone to beat him as much as I don't really like you. I need you right now."

DeSean rolled his eyes but it was the first time he heard Valerie tell another person she needed them she must be really desperate to get rid of Darkness he thought to himself. But she was right in a way, DeSean really wanted to beat Darkness, he's never done it before and this would be the first time they would meet one on one not some multi man match or tag match. If anything this match with Darkness may rekindle that lost fire that he had in his soul, that passion in his heart for the business that he's given so much too but seen so little in return. If he was going to defeat Darkness then he would need to regain it quickly or become just another victim, another W in Darkness' win column.

"Ok Valerie, I'll do it. I'll fight Darkness but it'll be on my terms believe that."

"That's what I wanted to hear"

"And you heard it, now if you excuse me I have to get into my rental car." DeSean jingled his keys in front of her.

"Oh excuse me, I ride in a limo"

"Yea"

"Also Darkness doesn't know that you're wrestling him."

"Yea"

DeSean got into his car and drove away from Valerie, he drove for three blocks before stopping at a light. He looked to his right and inside a diner sat his future opponent. Apart of him wanted to go in there and confront him another side told him to keep driving. He faced forward trying to focus on the road. He looked to his right again, Darkness sat inside drinking something maybe a cup of coffee. The light turned green but DeSean sat all it would take is a couple of minutes a slight detour from the rental company. He turned right at the light and pulled up in front of the diner and parked his car. Instead of getting out, he sat inside. He said he was going to do this on his terms, according to Stern Darkness had no idea that he was his next opponent. He could use this to his advantage but he asked himself was it really on his own terms or was he contemplating this because it's just something that he would do, something Darkness would expect just about anyone to do.

"Fuck it" He told himself. This match was on his terms not anyone else's he turned his car on and drove off but he stopped again.

"Fuck it" he told himself again. He stepped out of his car this was only going to take a second he convinced himself. He didn't plan on attacking Darkness just a conversation between two wrestlers just like the old days.

"Ah that's bullshit." he thought to himself.

Walking into the diner, DeSean grabbed a seat next to Darkness and ordered a cup of coffee with a pinch of milk and sugar.

"Darkness, what's up?" he got no response was he being ignored.

"Darkness! I asked what was up!" a little annoyed DeSean tapped his opponent's shoulder. Which caused him to spin around.

"Oh shit, you're not Darkness my fault mistaken identity."

"Freak!" the dark haired, heavily bearded Peruvian man replied back.

DeSean glared at him but thought nothing of it before he decided to leave.

"Thank God!" he thought to himself, walking away.

"He may not be Darkness but I am" he heard the voice say and yes it was the real deal.

"What do you want DeSean?" Darkness asked standing at the far end of the counter.

"Why do you wrestle, huh? You wanna answer that question for me?" Benjamin was an older guy, with just a few patches of scrubby grey hair on his wide head. His face was creased and worn, with a few scars here and there where things had gone wrong, and a lot of scars on his forehead where things had gone right.

"I have my reasons." Darkness threw a right hand into the punch bag, causing it to creak on its ancient mounting.

"No one trains this hard and keeps the reason a secret. To want it this bad, you gotta sweat the reason from every pore. You should be babblin' about it like a kid with ADD."

"I don't babble."

"Yeah, I noticed." Benjamin rolled his eyes and walked away from Darkness across his battered gym.

"I received a letter this morning," Darkness said.

"Oh?"

"From 411fed. I have a meeting with Lance Canada to assess my abilities."

Benjamin folded his arms. "I don't think you'll have any trouble."

Darkness steadied the punch bag with one hand then jumped into the air, throwing a reverse roundhouse kick. The punch bag finally gave up, flying off its bracket and crashing into some weights stacked up against the wall.

"Me neither."

Benjamin put his hands on his hips and surveyed the damage with a sigh.

"I'll pay for that," Darkness said after a few seconds.

"What do I want?" DeSean was caught off-guard. "Well. I want...uh..."

"You're always stammering around me. I don't think it suits you." Darkness sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter.

"I thought you were that guy," DeSean explained, taking a seat next to his opponent. "Kind of a coincidence - I thought I saw you, then it wasn't you, then you were here anyway."

"Coincidences have a habit of...well...coinciding...when I'm around."

DeSean nodded and the two men silently stared into space for a few moments.

"Also," Darkness continued, "I was actually sitting here, then got up to go to the bathroom. You probably did see me, then mistook that other guy for me when I wasn't here."

"Oh..." DeSean laughed despite himself.

Darkness picked up his coffee. "You want anything?"

"Are you buying?"

"Sure, why not." Darkness put his mug down to reach into his pocket and DeSean noticed he was performing both actions with his right hand. He tried not to stare at the prosthetic that was resting on the counter in place of his left. It was the first time he'd seen it up close.

"Otro café por favor, señor."

"¿Con leche?"

"Do you take it black or white?" Darkness asked DeSean quietly.

"Uh...white. Thanks."

"Con leche." Darkness confirmed.

The man behind the counter took Darkness's money and went to make the coffee. Darkness took another sip of his own and then put it down. DeSean noticed his was black.

"So, I heard a disturbing rumour this morning," the World Champion said after a little while.

DeSean's coffee arrived. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Something about you, a parking lot and some disturbed fans."

"Oh right. That."

"This business is full of unexpected dangers, DeSean."

DeSean blinked. "That's all you have to say?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I dunno...I was expecting an apology maybe?"

Darkness arched an eyebrow. "An apology? For what?"

"They were your fans."

"I had heard that," Darkness admitted, "but you can't hold me responsible for the actions of a few deranged individuals."

"I can if it was your fault they became deranged in the first place!"

"We're all responsible for our own actions in life, DeSean..."

"Yeah, so take responsibility for this!"

The rest of the diner had fallen silent. DeSean realised he was standing. "Perhaps," Darkness suggested, "we should take this somewhere less public?"

"Oh, now you want to start doing business in private? After all your crazy Satanic shit in the ring started turning fans into freaks?"

"I didn't turn anyone into anything..."

"You're the reason this business is falling apart!" DeSean was fuming. Months of private thoughts were spilling out of his mouth. All the pent-up aggression from his former faction's long rivalry with Darkness's was bubbling to the surface unbidden.

Darkness finally stood up. He reached into his pocket and placed a few crumpled bills on the counter. "Para el apuro, señor," he replied to the man's askance look. "DeSean, I have no wish to discuss this with you here. Perhaps you'd consider coming to my hotel suite this evening and we can deal with it there."

"And walk into an ambush or something? You'll have Dante and Freya waiting for me behind the door!"

Darkness looked utterly confused. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

"A forty-one year old wrestler with some kind of Jesus complex who treats this business like a war."

"Actually I'm forty-three." Darkness nodded to the man behind the counter and turned his back, leaving the diner and DeSean without a backward glance. The Aftershock Champion watched him go then, scowling, plonked himself back down on the stool. He swallowed a mouthful of his coffee.

"You speak any English?" he asked the man.

"Yes. I'm fluent, actually."

"Asshole," DeSean growled in the direction Darkness had left, "always trying to be a big shot."

* * *

Darkness walked through the back streets of Lima, reflecting on the odd encounter. Earlier that day, he'd told The Children and Revenant to keep an eye on Freya in preference to him. She'd mentioned what had happened with Duo - or, more importantly, with Elsie Canada - and he was more concerned about her safety than his own right now. This had the added benefit of giving him some time to himself. He was so often surrounded by his friends and bodyguards these days that he'd almost forgotten the loner he used to be.

Wandering around a city on his own, bumping into colleagues in diners...it was just like old times. His eyes followed a fire escape up the face of a bleak building. Maybe...just for a little while...

No. DeSean might have been out of line blaming him for the actions of the kids who called themselves Darklings these days, but he did have a point. He was encouraging dangerous behaviour. He had to start looking after his public image more diligently.

"I have to find The Bleeder and, through him, Lucifer."

He was speaking to the night, the day after he had broken the punch bag. He couldn't tell Benjamin what was really driving him - his real reason for pursuing this career. With nowhere to go and no plans, all he could do was follow up the one ghost of a lead left to him.

He had to find them...or let them find him...

Why did he get into this business? Not to be a wrestler, that was for sure. But now he had a duty to the young men and woman who cheered for him and chanted his name in the arenas, who had supported him at each and every one of his many victories. He wouldn't have come this far if not for them. If they hadn't bought his merchandise and paid for tickets to see him wrestle, he'd never have been successful enough to face Dante. He'd never have met Bruce. Freya would still be a stranger. He'd never have discovered his destiny or become the creature he was supposed to be. He owed everything that he was to the wrestling industry.

Perhaps it was time to acknowledge that. DeSean might be the start of it. He hoped he'd take him up on the invitation tonight - he could set things straight. They had no cause to be enemies.

* * *

DeSean had nearly finished his coffee when he noticed a hubbub in the diner. There was some sort of scuffle or altercation outside. He glanced out through the large plate-glass windows to his right and caught sight of a few dishevelled figures. They were brawling with another group of men, much better dressed. One of the grungy assailants looked in his direction, and he saw the familiar smudge of make up and lank, messy hair.

"Oh, Jesus Christ." It looked like Darkness wasn't even smart enough to set an ambush - he'd sent his insane fans after him instead. "Talk about holding a damn grudge."

DeSean looked around. He had a choice - walk out there and face the music (Iron Maiden, presumably) or hope this diner had a back exit.

"Hey, señor..." he beckoned the man behind the counter closer.

"Hey senor?" DeSean asked the man behind the counter still looking outside the window. The Darklings were harassing the businessman still, as DeSean sipped on his coffee some more.

"Si, senor" the man replied back while casually wiping a breakfast plate not noticing what was going on outside. In fact, DeSean noticed that no one was really paying attention to the altercation. Like this was an everyday occurrence to them if this was the case why bother?

"Hey is there a backdoor in here? I want to leave incognito not attract a lot of attention."

"Oh yes, there's one near the restroom that goes through the kitchen." the man with no name told him. He looked out the window again, he noticed that a crowd was starting to gather, he looked over at the kitchen and back out the window.

"Will I ever get out of this fucking city?" he thought to himself while standing up seemingly against his wall. It felt like a magnet was pulling him out his spot and drawing him near the drama.

"On second of thought, I think I'm just going to go out the front door. Thanks anyway" DeSean said while throwing his money on the counter, leaving a few extra bucks as a tip. He headed out the front door and crossed the street.

Marks can be the most passionate, loyal fans out of any entertainment field. They can also be the most vocal, fickle assholes walking this green Earth. They'll love you one minute and turn on you the next.

DeSean thought back to the time where he was at some small indy show, listening to some washed up vet who should have left the business 15 years ago. You know one of those guys who bragged about the time they jobbed in a match on WWF Superstars to Battle Kat which for some reason makes him entitled to be an asshole to everyone in earshot.
With that being said, DeSean thought back to this vets commentary about wrestling fans and how in this instance he may have been spot on.

Don't get me on the smarks either, they're dorks but because they have the internet subscription they think they know the business, which makes them even more dangerous. And oh man those fucking super marks, those are a real crazy bunch I tell you. See they don‘t know that this business isn‘t real, that everything is a façade (He pronounces the word fakade) they‘ll dress up like you which is great you‘re pushing merchandise that‘s what you want but then they follow you around. They think your beliefs are real and these aren‘t a bunch of drunk marks who momentarily wanna see you killed because you‘re a heel. No these marks are going to hurt anyone who doesn‘t believe in you. Plumb crazy I tell you.

He finally crossed the street but knew be bad to get everyone's attention somehow, he looked around while the Darklings and Suits argued.

"A war is coming!" one of the Darkling's yelled. DeSean didn't recognize him from last night which meant there were more of them.

"What war? I just want to do my job." a man who wore a dress shirt along with black slacks. All of the well dressed men looked more like IT guys or customer service reps instead of head honchos of a big business. Just a couple of guys trying to feed their families being harassed by a bunch of wacko‘s.

"You guys are not believers and therefore not with us and if you're not with us you're clearly against us and Darkness." DeSean noticed it was the same Darkling he beat up last night talking.

"Dammit" he thought to himself as he decided to fuck the distraction and just run over before the situation got worse. The head Darkling pulled out a knife looking to scar the innocent worker, who looked wide eyed. He inched closer with the knife looking for the right time to strike.

"Wait!" DeSean yelled while running and pushing himself through the crowd. He stood between the two groups. His hands were open but he was in a defensive position ready to strike anyone who would dare attack him.

"Let's not get too crazy, what the hell is going on?"

"Hey you're...." one of the IT guys stammered it just hit him that DeSean Blackwell was standing right in front of them.

"Yes, I am don't remind me. Now please someone explain what's going on, Actually scratch that. I already know, these Darkling freaks were bothering you, talking about an non existent war."

"Why yes..."

DeSean cut off another IT guy, he pointed at the assumed leader of the Darkness fanatics and berated him.

"Didn't I tell you last night that everything you see on fucking television is fake?" he had an legit concern on his face. Like an exasperated parent who's lost their patience with an hard headed 10 year old who's still blaming imaginary friends and cartoons for their misbehavior.

"You're lying to us!" the Darkling fired back. "We all know about the injuries that you guys receive. You, Matt Strikmore, Dante, Kermit, Hawthorne those weren't fake!"
"Those are called accidents, I'll admit we get hurt but everyone does in this business. The WWE John Cena has an herniated disk, Kennedy injured his shoulder. But everything else is scripted, there's no war."

"You're a liar! Darkness wouldn't lie to us!" the Darkling yelled back looking as if he was going to cry out of disappointment.

"Yes he would, you wanna know about your hero? He's 43 years old, he's a man who believes in staying in character and for what it's worth he's a Grade A asshole. You're better off following Satan as a leader because Darkness will lead you straight to hell." DeSean said coldly.

"Stop saying that about Darkness! He's going to lead us and you a war is coming DeSean whether you like or not. I have these scars for a reason and soon you'll have them... smack!"

DeSean silenced the Darkling by hitting him with a backhanded fist not even exerting his energy enough to add a spin. He leveled the Darkling with one good shot, landing flush on the jaw. The Darkling collapsed backwards landing hard on the cold concrete while some bystanders gasped at the quick and sudden impact. DeSean casually walked over to the Darkling and grabbed the knife that fell out of his hand.

"You pulled a knife on me the first time, there' won't ever be a second time, asshole." He looked at the crowd who stared back at him. Shaking his head he walked away from everyone. He missed his flight which meant another day in Lima, surrounded by a bunch of freaks. So if you're surrounded by a bunch of freaks what do you do then? The leader of the weirdo's invited him to his hotel room for some type of chat. Maybe he should take Darkness up on the offer, apart of him was curious to see what Darkness was going to tell him and he definitely had some things to get off his chest. This may end up being healthy in a way but he doubted he that, he hopped inside his rental car heading back towards the hotel, it was still early in the Afternoon his day was from over and that gave him sickening feeling.

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
For now we stand alone
The world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate
With no more to hate

Is it bright where you are?
And have the people changed?
Does it make you happy you're so strange?
And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in its pain
.........................................

A couple of hours later we're inside the hotel room of Darkness, who awaits for his opponent to show up, DeSean could be unpredictable at times. Darkness could open that door and feel the stinging pain of a Singapore Cane striking him on his head or DeSean would walk in and actually listen to what he has to say. It's a total flip of a coin right now, there were times in which Darkness think's DeSean doesn't know what his next move will be.

*Knock, Knock*

That was the knock, he was waiting to hear. Darkness opened his door.

"DeSean"

"Darkness"

They both acknowledged each other, Darkness noticed how he cautiously walked inside the room maybe expecting an ambush,

"There's no one else here, except us. If I wanted to fight you I would have done that a long time ago."

"So why did you invite me over here? What's there to discuss?" DeSean helped himself to the complimentary bottle of champagne that the hotel gives to all of their guests who stay in a high end suite.

"There's a lot of things you don't know, that you think you do know, DeSean" Darkness willing to let it slide that DeSean just disrespected him,

"I know but guess what I don't care. There's a lot of things I'm willing to be in the dark about." DeSean admitted. "But when your fans are starting to buy into what you're saying, taking it literally harming innocent people, attacking me. That's when I have a problem."

"Let me tell you this, I never told anyone to attack you."

"Maybe not directly but indirectly you did, you don't understand this entire promotion doesn't understand. In a way we're indirectly responsible for the actions of our own fans unlike the WWE we don't claim what we do is entertainment we like to call it Pro Wrestling but what are we really doing? I trained to become a Pro wrestler, I was taught how to take bumps, give promos, how to pull punches, how to stiff when necessary and also how to protect myself and my opponents in the ring."

"And in a way you feel like all that training has been taken for granted?"

"Yes I do, I guess. I don't know anymore but in all honesty I blame you." DeSean said pointing his finger at Darkness.

"I see why is that?"

"Because, the philosophy of TCW has taken a turn for worse everything is gloomy, dark we have a bunch of idiots trying to scar people physically and mentally and what have you done so far? Except ignore it all, why am I? Trying to explain your actions to your fans, so called Darklings. What's ironic is that in the end, when they brutally beat someone or kill them they'll be arrested and then they'll blame you.

They'll say you encouraged them. The media is going to blame TCW, then they're going to blame pro wrestling which will give Senator MacAsshole all the ammunition he needs to take a gun out and blow this godforsaken business away and it'll be because you had to stroke your own ego." DeSean told Darkness in a very serious tone.

"So your entire animosity towards me is because you care this business, the same business you trash all the time? I don't believe you, there's something deeper going on. You knew what TCW was about when you signed a contract here. You can't all of a sudden be self righteous. No there's something deeper going on, you just won't come out and say it."

"What else do you expect me to say? I can't make it clearer, TCW is going to die because of your ego. You need to do the right thing, you need to go out there and face the music, face those idiots and tell them the truth." DeSean said while walking over to the balcony looking down at the beautiful skyline of Lima."

"So you want me to go out on worldwide television and tell the whole world it's fake. What me, you and everyone else on this roster does is fake, insult everyone who's worked hard to make sure Friction, Havoc the PPV's are running smoothly. I'm not doing that, I'm not going to insult everyone who's sacrificed their time, their families and their marriages to make TCW look good." Darkness replied back.

"No you won't have to go out on television to do it because they're headed towards us." DeSean told Darkness.

In response he walked over to the balcony and stood next to DeSean both men looked down on the Darkling fanatics, it was a nice size group. Darkness estimated about 15 guys but it could be more. DeSean figured that they either followed him to the hotel or they found out where Darkness stayed either way, he didn't see any good coming out of this.

"Your fan club is here" DeSean told Darkness in a mocking manner. "So what are you going to do?" he asked Darkness.

Darkness remained silent for a moment. DeSean watched him carefully. Was this a man lost for words? He had never known Darkness - not that he could claim anything more than a perfunctory acquaintance with the man - to have nothing to say before.

"These..." a near-imperceptible pause, as if ordering complex thoughts, "...are the men you spoke of?"

"That's right." DeSean nodded down at the mob, working their way towards the hotel's entrance in the manner of particles via osmosis. There was nothing ordered about their progress, no leader guiding them forward. Their movement was entirely entropic, pulling them inexorably towards Darkness.

"I don't understand..." he really didn't. Being told about a thing is not the same as seeing it with one's own eyes.

"They're your goddamn fans! These idiots think it's real! I've been trying to tell them all day that's it just a game..."

Darkness shook his head. No shortage of words now. "No, that's not what they are. Wrestling has nothing to do with this, except in a tangential sense."

"But these are your fans."

"Fans of me. Not of the Darkness on TV."

"But there's no difference - that's your whole problem!" Darkness looked at him strangely. "Kayfabe, man," DeSean went on, "don't you understand it?"

"More than you can ever know," Darkness replied, looking back at the advancing mob. He jerked his head back towards the door from his suite, "come on, let's deal with this."

"‘Let's' as in ‘let us'...?"

"Yes?"

DeSean held up his hands. "No way. I've already dealt with these freaks. Like I said, they're your fans. This is your responsibility."

"Do you understand what these men are?" Darkness asked.

"I told you..."

"Really understand? Because I do. I've seen their like before. I've fought against them. These aren't fans of some TV show, even if that TV show has a role in making what they are possible, they're fanatics: cultists."

"You mean like religious nuts or something?"

"Sometimes. A cult needn't be spiritual in nature - it's only the level of insane devotion that defines it. There's such a thing as a cult of personality."

Half-remembered history classes swam up in DeSean's mind. "Like Stalinist Russia?"

"Precisely. These men are dangerous and obsessed. They'll keep coming, even if I try to dissuade them."

"Right...so why do I have to come along?"

"Because I'm not going to even try dissuading them - I'm going to fight them, and I don't see anyone else with any combat credentials in this room right now."

"Oh."

* * *

Hotel security were already forming a wall of flesh at the doors. Wide men in black suits, taller than either wrestler were preparing to meet the charge of the Darklings. The manager was gabbling in Spanish behind them, peppering his speech with threats to call the authorities.

"Why don't they call the cops?" DeSean asked Darkness as they crossed the lobby to the doors.

"Bad publicity. They don't want any."

"They could always just blame you?"

"That does seem to be a popular option."

Darkness walked past the manager, DeSean in tow, and the agitated man accosted him.

"You! What is the meaning of this?"

"These are just my fans," Darkness explained with a reassuring pat, "let me get rid of them for you."

"He's in control," DeSean added with a thumbs up.

"I don't think that helped."

"I wasn't trying to reassure him."

They shouldered through the security personnel and out onto the steps. It was the evening, and the hotel was sufficiently far from downtown Lima that there was no one around to stare dumbly at the scene or pull out phones to record whatever was about to happen.

"It's Darkness!" One of the group detached themselves, and DeSean recognised it as the self-appointed leader he had already encountered. He grinned behind his scars.

"What are you doing here?" Darkness asked them.

"We've come...to serve you..." The Darkling dropped to one knee and held up his knife in his palms as a laughable gesture of allegiance.

"I neither need nor want your service." Darkness walked down the hotel's steps and reached for the knife with his good hand.

The Darkling snatched it away, then began to stand. "You do need us. You need all of us."

"I don't need fifteen new henchmen."

"Not all of us," he gestured with spread arms at his cronies, "I mean everyone! Mankind!" He pushed himself closer, moving with a kind of lurching gait that was half swagger and half trip. "We know what you are, Darkness. We want to help you."

"Help me by going home," Darkness hissed.

"You're missing an opportunity. There are a lot of us, you know. We cheer your name when you wrestle and we buy your t-shirts." He tugged at his own stained apparel to demonstrate. "We've made you what you are, and we'll follow wherever you lead. We could be an army for you."

DeSean was close enough to hear all this. The other snarling Darklings had begun to surround them, forgetting the hotel now that the object of their obsession had left it. They congregated around Darkness like ants around a dropped ice cream cone...or flies around a carcass...or maggots on a festering wound... He could think of a dozen metaphors, none of them pleasant.

Darkness wasn't saying anything. The lead Darkling had a vile rictus grin plastered across his pale face, and his smudged black make up lent him a skeletal aspect. He was Death, taunting Darkness, but nothing more than a morbid puppet of something stronger.

"Hey!" Darkness came out his seeming trance and looked around at DeSean. "Are you actually listening to this creep? He tried to mutilate me today, and not just me - innocent people. You told me once that you were involved in something big and that anyone who messed with you was going to get burnt - but not by you. I don't give a shit if you're supposed to be the good guy or the bad guy in all this crap, but I'm guessing if you were the kind of dude who wanted normal people walking around with scars like yours, this whole thing wouldn't be playing out like this."

"Fair point." Darkness spun around and smashed his elbow into the Darkling's face. For a second there was a stunned silence as he hit the floor with a reassuringly conclusive thud. "You've all seen what I can do in the ring - does anyone else want to play?"

* * *

Darkness handed DeSean a bottle of beer from his minibar. Some of the Darklings had wanted to fight, but they had shown more interest in getting themselves hurt than doing any hurting back. The battle had been short.

"Do you believe in destiny, DeSean?" Darkness asked him as he sipped from his own bottle.

DeSean's discomfort at the question was clear. His hunched shoulders, the way his neck bobbed. He was looking for a way to deflect a conversation he didn't want to have. "Destiny...?" Not the strongest response, but it was neutral enough to avoid committing to any particular opinion.

"I'm not speaking of great things now - I just mean the destiny of everyday men and women. Do you believe there is a path ordained for all of us?"

"Well...do you?"

"I believe there is a path ordained for me. In fact, I know there is. I've seen my destiny being written. But I'm not asking about me; I'm asking about you."

"Sometimes...sometimes things seem to go better for me when I go along with things. It's like a storm. Sometimes I can ride it out and go far, but other times the wind goes in the wrong direction and I get bogged down. I think everyone feels they're heading for something in the future. You have to, don't you? Or you just go insane."

Darkness nodded. "I agree. It's hard to ignore that sometimes it feels like the universe has some aim in mind for us, and that life goes smoother when we just accept that and move towards that destiny: the unknowable, perfect ‘end state' of our lives."

"I always knew I was going to be a pro. wrestler. And everything I've done that led me down that road has been a success. That is, until I started getting involved with some of you guys. Whatever this is...whatever that was out there...it isn't pro. wrestling. It's something more - or less - and I don't know how to set my sails to ride out the storm that lets it happen."

Darkness stepped towards the balcony doors. The sun had set now, and stars sparkled in a deep azure sky. A puff of wind blew out the diaphanous curtains that framed Darkness.

"I was meant to inspire good, not madness."

"What?"

"These fans...these ‘Darklings'...I never thought it could happen to me. I wanted to be a symbol of hope. That's why we formed the New Hellfire Club: to show people that they had nothing to fear from the night. We would protect them, we who had the strength to court evil in order to defeat it. Now I've created a monstrous cult."

"It's just escalation," DeSean told the back of Darkness's head, "a wrestler wears a mask, and his fans show up wearing cheap copies. He puts on a jacket, and they go buy one too. He debuts a new move, and kids in playgrounds try to imitate it. You start showing people pentagrams and carrying swords...well, you give the kind of people that are easily led by that kind of shit a way in. I don't know what came first, the potential for this cult of yours or the ordinary wrestling fans they grew out of, but something's gone wrong here, man."

"Do you think I should quit?"

"Quit?"

"Some time ago, friends of mine thought things would be better if I weren't a wrestler. Stern wanted me gone, and I started to believe it myself. But I convinced myself I'd be vulnerable if I weren't a public figure, and that it was my destiny to inspire people to believe in something good and strong. Now I wonder if I'm doing that. The Darkness I see in the mirror isn't the Darkness people see on TV, or that people like you see facing them on the other side of the ring. You ponder if I might be evil - if you really knew me you'd know how offensive that is."

"Hey, sorry..."

Darkness waved him away. "Not your fault. I've made a mistake. I wanted to be a symbol of hope, but instead my need for secrecy has birthed something dark and terrible."

"So now you're gonna quit?"

Darkness turned around. "It's crossed my mind - is crossing my mind now - and I wonder why I would even consider staying. Is what we saw today healthy? Should I even expose ordinary men and women to what I am, and to my destiny? This isn't their burden."

"But what about TCW?"

"What about it?"

"Well, you're the Champion. You're what we're all aiming for. Doesn't that mean something to you? I heard what you said to Dante last year when you wanted to challenge for his belts. This shit is important to you, even if you won't admit it."

"It is important to me. It has become more than a metaphor."

"If you walk out, you're walking out on all of us. You're saying that wrestling - the very thing that made your destiny possible, so you claim - is just some game you play to amuse yourself in between whatever it is you really do. You're spitting in all our faces and belittling everyone who actually wants to do this. Do you know what it means to chase after the World Titles, and wonder if you'll ever have them? Do you know what it is to give it your best and for it still not to be enough? We sweat and we bleed for the opportunities to achieve what you're considering throwing away. If you quit, it makes a mockery of all the guys in TCW you claim to respect."

Darkness was silent for a long time. "You're right. I can't leave this - not now. But," he added, turning back to the doors and the night sky, "I can't stay here if I'm breeding the kind of insanity I saw in those men's eyes."

DeSean stood up, leaving the easy chair he'd been sitting in. "So stop breeding it. They're just doing what you do - or what they think you do - so put them straight. Stop being a dark knight and start being the hero you say you want to be."

"But how do I do that? They'll lead wherever I follow, but I need them to know it won't be through the Gates of Hell and into damnation."

"You don't know how to be a hero? How to be a babyface?"

"I only know how to be me. If it coincides with those things...yes...but otherwise, I'm rudderless in destiny's storm."

"Then someone's gonna have to teach you how things really work in the ring..."

"And who would that be? You?" Darkness asked DeSean. The suggestion caught DeSean off guard, technically he was a face now but he wasn't a good one, he was such a natural asshole that whenever he played face people never truly got behind him. Wrestling fans can be weird in a way, they'll cheer you when you're heel then you turn face they'll boo you just so they can cheer your asshole heel character again. There was no way he could really help Darkness become more face like in the ring and he knew this himself.

"I can't really help you, the type of matches we have in TCW won't allow us to just sit and plan a match besides I suck being a face. Being a baby face is a lot harder than being an heel, it's easier to get fans to boo you. It's a lot harder to get fans to really like you and sympathize with you.

The problem with TCW is that our fans are smart, they're going to cheer heels most of the time anyway, they like you because they think you're some badass, dark brooding character with a cool look. For you to switch means you have to change your entire style, allow yourself to get the shit kicked out of you. Allow someone to control the pace of the match-up until the go home period happens and then it's every man for himself. Now if this was any other promotion that would be great but in TCW it can‘t happen like that and we both know why."

Darkness was silent as he listen to DeSean's words. In a way he was right for him to do what DeSean suggested went against everything that TCW stood for. There were no characters in TCW every member of that roster were themselves and for him and DeSean to go out there and go against the grain would be spitting in the face of ever member of that roster.

"But if you really want to be a face then I suggest picking up some tapes, DVDs going on internet downloading whatever you can of Ricky Steamboat, Sting, mid 90s Shawn Michaels. Early 90s Bret Hart watching El Generico in PWG and ROH, John Cena, Flair vs. Vader. Flair vs. Terry Funk. Adam Pearce vs. Brent Albright in ROH would be a perfect classic heel vs. face match up, old school match in front of a new school crowd who loved every minute of that match. Or...and I can‘t believe I‘m about to say this Matt Strikmore is your best bet, he‘s the closest thing we have here to a true face."

"Strikmore? I guess I'll have to look for him."

"Well he's not hard to find, you can find him in a video store trying to subtlety look at the anime porn section." DeSean added while he stood up, heading towards the door.

"Well I need to be going, I've been kicking the shit out of Darkling's all day and I have a plane to catch tomorrow. So I guess I'll be seeing you around in Argentina."

"Oh yes, of course sorry I zoned out for a second."

"It's ok, I understand, it's been a long night tonight." DeSean replied back, he watch Darkness who stood near the window and watched the dark skylight deep in thought. DeSean could only imagine what truly went inside Darkness' head, what possessed him to do the things that he does. Without breaking his concentration, DeSean walked out the hotel room and closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as walked to his own hotel room or the place that he would call home for one last night.

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

One thing to remember about this business is that people like new. They don't want to same old shit over and over again. They want to be surprised, they want to be excited, it's why fans turn on wrestlers who have been dominant for so long that they become the Yankees. A promotion like the WWE is always looking for the next big thing, they're looking for a guy they can make into a star. The question is are you that guy? Are you a star or are you just another indie guy with a generic look who doesn't do anything to stand out?

The year was 2005, the month was September he sits in a chair near ringside in Louisville, Kentucky around him are notable wrestlers like CM Punk, Elijah Burke, Nigel McGuiness, Ken Kennedy, Mickie James, Krissy Vaine, Armando Estrada, Maria, Matt Cappotelli, Ken Doane, Johnny Jeter, Santino Marella and a host of others who were all part of OVW's developmental camp or were hoping to be apart of OVW's roster just so they can get notice by the WWE. In the middle of the ring speaking to them all was Paul Heyman who was in charge of OVW's booking. The speech hits him like a cold wind stinging one's face as they first step outside on winter day. Apart of him wanted to help Darkness but apart of him didn't, it could have been leftover heat from the Infinity/NHFC feud but that wasn't it, it was deeper than that.

Deep down inside he knew, he had to beat Darkness. In order for TCW to improve Darkness had to lose even if the match was a non title match, the site of Darkness taking a pin 1-2-3 in the middle of the ring had to happen. He knew if Darkness lost a renewed energy would happen in TCW. There was always this uneasy feeling whenever someone Darkness. It was if they were fighting not to lose instead of winning. Like their minds were made up before the match started that it was over, it was inevitable what only mattered now is how they lost the match.

"Fuck that" he thought to himself, if he was going to win he was going to have to take the fight to Darkness.

'm going to say it loud and clear, and maybe it'll break through that rock you call a brain. I'm tired of being proved wrong about you. I'm tired of saying DeSean is great, and then you go make yourself look like a fool. I'm tired of seeing a talent as awesome as you wuss out. Road to Glory. It's your last chance. When we end up in the ring at the same time, and you'd better still be around when I show up, this is what's going to go down. First, I'm going to find the biggest, ugliest guy in FWR and punch him in the face. Second, I'm going to come looking for you, and I'm going to look you dead in the eye. If I have any doubt that you didn't burn the word "I can't" and piss on the ashes, you're going out. I promise you I will throw you out. I will cost myself this match. I will cost TCW this match. I will do all that, just to throw you out, because you'll have finally convinced me that you don't belong in a ring. I'm not going to give you a pass anymore on raw potential. Too many people gave too much to have you disrespect it, and if you don't have the common courtesy to hang it up, then I'll do it for you. But if I look you in the eye, and I see what I know can be there, then I'll be right about two things. One, that you're great

"Well you know what Matt, I proved you wrong I threw your ass out and at Friction, I'm going to show you and everyone else what I'm truly capable of. For me and for this godforsaken company, sorry Darkness but I gotta do it." he told himself before getting into his bed and finally giving into his fatigue, tomorrow would be a new day for him and hopefully begin the start of a new dawn in TCW.