Chad Mason/Anna Stone [vs] Robbie Hart/Stygian

Hardware Mode

Stygian [voiceover]: When you can count your losses in one hand, each and every one of them contains a harsh lesson. Each one of them is its own humiliation. I can’t lose, and if by some fluke I do lose, I can’t lose again. I can’t go on a losing streak. I’m better than that. Most people get into this business and they work hard and give their best on the mat night in and night out. They’re losers. I’ve built my legacy on winning. Not in the Charlie Sheen, sarcastic-hashtag-on-twitter winning, I mean actual winning. I destroy people. This list is long and, in places, distinguished; Damien Drake, Khaos, Steve Relic, Corey Bull, James Shark, Dan Alexander, Chuck Matthews, Brandon MacDonald, Corey Casey…nobody has a body count like mine. The rest of you hope to win. I expect to. I am expected to. The only way someone beats me is if they find a flaw in the armor. You did that, Robbie. You found one flaw. You did your job. Now it’s my job to fix the flaw. The next time we get into the ring, you’ll never exploit a kick to the head and beat me like that again.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Denver, Colorado
7:00:00am

As the timestamp fades out, the scene fades in. Daylight floods through a glass storefront window onto a black matted floor. Stygian, Lilith and Lilah approach the door. Stygian opens and for the ladies and they precede him inside. Stygian is dressed in a red Bushwood Country Club 1980 Caddy Day Golf Tournament and black mesh warm-up pants. Lilith is dressed in a black form-fitting women’s t-shirt with the words “Mount and Do Me” in Mountain Dew lettering and matching booty shorts and purple Chuck Taylors. Lilah is in a red UNLV Tank Top, matching running shorts and pink PUMA training shoes.

Stygian [voiceover]: After those two kicks to the head at Heroes Also Die, I had a Grade 2 concussion. Wasn’t cleared to wrestle. So I decided to come home for a few days, meet up with my new sensei. Well, “sensei” is maybe to reverent a word for Chuck Finley.

As they step into the building, it becomes clear that this is a fighting gym of some kind; like one might see in a Rocky movie, or really any other movie about combat-related sports. In truth it’s much nicer than Mickey’s gym ever was. It’s clean and spacious. There are five rings staggered in a column up the middle of the floor. Around the side walls are intermixed heavy bags, speed bags and kick pads. There’s a small circuit of workout machines and free weights. The trio is met in the middle of the entryway by a tall man with graying hair in a Hawaiian shirt, holding a mojito and stirring it with a drink straw.


Stygian: Chuck Finley.

Chuck Finley: Big Styg.

Stygian [voiceover]: Chuck had been a big-time wrestler in the 80’s and most of the 90’s. He got out around ’97 when his knees gave out. He was smart, though, saved his money. Invested in MMA and rode the wave when it skyrocketed. Owns this place in Denver for budding MMA fighters and the occasional aspiring pro wrestler to come and work out. Got a lot of ins into both worlds. Chuck can get you a tryout with just about any wrestling promoter in North America, or a preliminary fight with any MMA organization; regional, national or international. He’s also got one of the keenest wrestling minds to this day. He could be riding the rods and running a promotion if he wanted to, but he says that coming back home saved his marriage, and he likes his marriage. But, ever since I made my home in Englewood, Chuck has become my new Keisuke Miyagi.

The pair of them shake hands.

Chuck Finley: I’d give you an awkward “bro-hug” but I don’t want to spill my mojito.

Lilith: A mojito at 7am?

Lilah: Isn’t it a little early?

Chuck Finley: Darlin’ it’s never too early for a mojito.

Lilith: Of course, Chuck. I’m going to go hit the kick pads.

Lilah: I’m going to wait for more guys to show up…

Lilith: Yes?

Lilah: …do a stretching routine to get them all watching me…

Lilith: Alright…

Lilah: And then watch them all turn away and make that horrified sound they always do when I do a handspring and land in the splits.

Lilith: Oh, I love it when you do that!

Chuck and Stygian shake their heads.

Chuck Finley: Well…to each his…or her own.

Sam takes a big gulp of his mojito as the girls scamper off to do their thing. Chuck waits until they’re out of earshot.

Chuck Finley: I gotta admit, I’m just as horrified as any man when she does it but…

Stygian: Still kinda hot?

Chuck Finley: Yeah. So, Robbie Hart kicked you in the head, huh.

Stygian: Twice.

Chuck Finley: I saw it. Brutal. But you were asking for it.

Stygian: If I was, show me how to not ask for it.

Chuck Finley: That’s what I like about you, Jason. Most times a young man comes in here and asks for my help, and when I point out a flaw in their game, they say “no I don’t!” They get all defensive. Not you. I say “here’s the problem” you say “how do we fix it?”

Stygian: “Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfills the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things.”

Chuck Finley: Who said that?

Stygian: Winston Churchill.

Chuck Finley: Smart man. Scotch drinker.

Stygian: And martinis.

Chuck Finley: A man is allowed three drinks in life; a good scotch…

Stygian: Johnny Walker.

Chuck Finley: A beer of choice.

Stygian: Coors.

Chuck Finley: And one non-girly cocktail, like my mojito. What’s your cocktail, Jason?

Stygian: Boilermaker.

Chuck Finley: You would do that to scotch?

Stygian: No. I actually use Old Number 7 and Budweiser.

Chuck Finley: Really?

Stygian: I’d never drink either one by itself, but for a boilermaker, it’s the best combination I’ve found.

Chuck Finley: I might have to try that.

Stygian: Gonna replace the mojito?

Chuck gasps and turns away, cradling the slender perspiring glass and talking to it.

Chuck Finley: Pay no attention to the big, mean man.

He turns back to Stygian.

Stygian: Sorry.

Chuck Finley: You should be.

Stygian: I just thought with you three drink theory…

Chuck Finley: Well that’s the fourth drink.

Stygian: The fourth drink.

Chuck Finley: Yeah.

Stygian: Of your three drink theory?

Chuck Finley: Of course. The fourth drink is…you drink whatever the hell you want, providing it isn’t something girly like a cosmopolitan, and don’t apologize.

Stygian: So really your three drink theory could be amended to three commandments: Thou shalt drink scotch.

Chuck Finley: Yes.

Stygian: Thou shalt drink beer.

Chuck Finley: Of course.

Stygian: And thou shalt not drink girly drinks.

Chuck Finley: Unless they are being licked off a woman’s naked body.

Stygian: Good amendment.

Chuck Finley: Thank you.

Stygian: So really, three commandments.

Chuck Finley: I like it, but that sounds too much like “three demandments”…and that guy’s an asshole.

Stygian: So I’ve found since I came into the business.

Stygian sighs, and looks around awkwardly.

Chuck Finley: You had the shirt when you were a kid, didn’t you?

Stygian: Yep.

Chuck Finley: And the bandana?

Stygian: Uh huh.

Chuck Finley: And that little plastic title belt.

Stygian: I did.

Chuck Finley: Hey man, you were a kid. He suckered a lot of kids in the 80’s and 90’s. It could have been worse.

Stygian: How?

Chuck Finley: You could have gone to football camp at Penn State?

Stygian: Whoa!

Chuck Finley: Yeah I’m going to hell. But before I get there, let’s get you sorted out.

Stygian: You went over the match?

Chuck Finley: I went over your last ten matches.

Stygian: I won nine of them.

Chuck Finley: You did. But there’s a big problem.

Stygian: Big problem?

Chuck Finley: Big problem. It’s the same problem you suffer every time.

Stygian: I’ve lost, like, four matches!

Chuck Finley: Yeah, I don’t count that triple threat with James Shark either.

Stygian: He does.

Chuck Finley: Yeah, but he’s more mouth than brains. Look, James Shark running his mouth on Twitter doesn’t mean anything. You’re better than that, Jase.

Stygian: True.

Chuck Finley: See here’s the thing, when you’re as good as you are? It tends to make you think whatever you’re doing is working. And it is, but it means you stop pushing yourself to get better. That, we can’t have. Look pro wrestling is always a reflection of the other sports of its time as much as it is wrestling. Look back in the old days: from the 50’s to the 80’s you basically had boxing-heavy brawlers, pure wrestlers or a mix of the two, right?

Stygian: I don’t know, you’re the one who still uses a sundial.

Chuck Finley: Very funny, but I’m serious here. Mixed Martial Arts has changed the game. If you want to stay on top, you’re going to have to put some of their tools in your shed, my large friend.

Stygian: So…uh…what are we doing here, Chuck?

Chuck Finley: I made some calls, sent a video of you I put together with my comments, and I got the results back. All the people I trust, so therefore you should trust them too, say the same three things pretty consistently; you need to learn some Muay Thai, you need to expand your wrestling, and you need to incorporate, don’t laugh, Sumo.

Stygian: Sumo?

Chuck Finley: Told you not to laugh.

Stygian: I’m not…yet. Why Sumo?

Chuck Finley: Let’s face it, you’re not going to blow anyone away mat wrestling. It’s just too damn much effort for a seven foot man to shoot for an ankle pick or any of that crap.

Stygian: Agreed.

Chuck Finley: You’re not going to win a boxing match.

Stygian: Probably not.

Chuck Finley: You have great arm’s length defense. You’re great if people are scared to get into that wingspan or eat that kick of yours. But if they get inside, they hurt you. James Shark did it, Robbie Hart did it, and when the time comes Chad Mason will do it.

Stygian: Chad Mason?

Stygian guffaws.

Chuck Finley: You need to quit laughing at Chad Mason. Let me tell you something Jase, think whatever you want to think about him out here.

Chuck points to his mouth and then waives his empty hand in a sweeping gesture in the air while sipping his mojito.

Chuck Finley: But in here?

Chuck reaches up and taps Stygian’s temple.

Chuck Finley: You have to stop considering what Chad’s doing luck. He’s got the head on his shoulders and the mean streak in his soul to stay on this roll for a long time if he wants to. And when I look down that roster I see the one thing that I bet he’s seen by now.

Stygian: That is?

Chuck Finley: You’re the only one who can stop him.

Stygian: …right. Look, if apparently have to learn two martial arts and learn a bunch of new wrestling moves in the span of the four days I’m here. So can we?

Chuck Finley: You’re only partially right.

Stygian: Partially?

Chuck Finley: Well you are going to be learning Sumo and Thai kickboxing. But you’re not going to learn it all in three days.

Stygian: Well how am I going to learn it, then?

Chuck Finley: Anyone else, I wouldn’t even think about this, but you’re one of the brightest student’s I’ve ever seen.

Stygian: What is it?

Chuck Finley: Well, we’re going to do virtual lessons.

Stygian: Virtual lessons?

Chuck Finley: Yeah, martial arts are like any class. You’re going to do some work online. What we do is we set you up with a motion response camera…

Stygian: A motion response camera?

Chuck Finley: Yeah, like that think my kids have on their X-Box.

Stygian: Kinect?

Chuck Finley: Yeah. And you work through a program under supervision from the two guys I’ve lined up for you.

Stygian: Two?

Chuck Finley: Yeah, two. I mean, I can teach you wrestling.

Stygian: Online.

Chuck Finley: Not always. The wife and I could use some vacation time here and there. IWF’s coming out west for most of the year. When you guys go somewhere she’s been nagging me to take her, we’ll hit it up and I’ll come find you for a day or two while she’s out shopping. Check up on you.

Stygian: And I’ll work with the other two guys online.

Chuck Finley: Mostly, but you need to go see then when you get the chance. This? Teaching martial arts at a distance, it’s still experimental. We don’t know how it’s going to work. If it wasn’t someone as smart as you I wouldn’t even try it, but I know if anyone can do it, you can.

Stygian: Great, so I think we start with wrestling since I’m here?

Chuck Finley: Not right away. We’re going to start with kickboxing.

Stygian: Oh, where’s the camera?

Chuck Finley: We don’t need it today.

Stygian: That a fact?

Chuck Finley: My guy happened to have a layover in Denver on his way home. I talked him into taking a red-eye tonight. He should be here…

Chuck looks at his watch, and then to the door.

Chuck Finley: There he is!

Stygian: Is that…?

Chuck Finley: Yes it is!

The door opens and a short man in a tank-top, black athletic pants and sneakers. He’s about Chuck’s age, maybe a little older. He’s in great shape, better shape than Chuck, maybe even better than anyone in IWF. Great muscle tone and definition. He comes up and shakes hands with Chuck, but their conversation is swallowed by a voiceover.


Stygian [voiceover]: I knew Chuck had connections, but this was former IKBF Light Heavyweight Champion, former two-time KI World Grand Prix champion Kurt Sloane. Kurt was something of a kickboxing legend. His brother Eric had been an undefeated American Champion who went to Thailand to challenge their undefeated Tong Po. Po laid a beating on Eric Sloane, even went so far as to kick the towel out of the ring when his corner man, Kurt, threw it in so he could keep beating on Eric. Eric never walked again. From there, the story is a little sketchy. They say Kurt went native, found himself a Thai Mr. Miyagi and learned the old ways of Muay Thai. They say he beat Tong Po within an inch of his life at some old forgotten arena under Bangkok in an unsanctioned no-holds-barred match. I don’t know if it’s true. Tong Po had several fights after that, they say his lost that night cost the wrong people lots of money. He won a lot of fights but always had money trouble. He barely had enough money to but the gun and the bullet he blew his brains out with in ’03. I don’t know if any of that ever happened. Officially Kurt Sloane and Tong Po never fought. But the official fights he did have? Kurt was good. Won matches and titles all over the world. He’s in just about every Kickboxing Hall of Fame there is, and is in the International Martial Arts Hall of Fame. I’m staring at him like a 14 year old getting a glimpse of Justin Bieber’s wiener. Just a 14 year old, non-gender specific. Finally he turns to me.

Kurt Sloane: How you doing, Kurt Sloane.

Stygian [voiceover]: It takes me a minute…and a nudge from Chuck…to shake Kurt’s hand.

Stygian: Hey, I’m Jason.

Kurt Sloane: Ok Jason, well I’m going to go get changed, meet me in that ring over there in 15 minutes.

Stygian [voiceover]: So there I was, in the ring with Kurt Sloane. He still looks like he could kick my ass, but really, he’s a cool guy to work with.

The audio comes back as Stygian is working with what would normally be a fairly tall sparring partner in protective gear. The man is 6’7”, but Stygian dwarfs him. Kurt has the man in the clench and he’s illustrating several techniques to the Star Destroyer, talking as he demonstrates them.

Kurt Sloane: …and step back here like this. Now we can punch to the face, or if he blocks there we have the whole torso to attack, see here I can get to his stomach, his chest, his floating ribs. Or, I put my other hand around his neck, or shoulder hook him and I can bring knees. Now look, he’s going to lift his knee to defend, so all I do is step over here, put my hip into him and throw him down. That’s nice in wrestling, not really legal in kickboxing.

Stygian takes the little big man’s hand and pulls him to his feet.

Kurt Sloane: Now you get into the clinch here.

Stygian wraps his arms around the small man’s neck in a modified Thai clinch.

Kurt Sloane: Now remember, in here, if you want to move him, you reach up to the crown of the head. Yes, like that. But for most of the things I want you to work on for today, it’s going to be a neck clench. So drop back down, good. From here we’re going to do what we Americans like to call “dirty boxing”. It’s a bunch of stuff that’s illegal as hell in boxing, but for us is OK. From here transition into the one-hand clinch.

Stygian steps back with his right foot and drops his right hand down.

Kurt Sloane: That’s nice. The first thing you should always do is attack the face. Because it makes him cover up instinctively. We don’t like to be hit in the face. So you strike for the face…wait, wait, wait, get your elbow down. Nice and tight to your body. There you are. Because this protects you. If your elbow’s out, you’re lengthening your punching line, and your opening all of this in here for him to hit. You get more power out here, but always start on the inside. Okay, keep your elbow down. Now work what I showed you.

Stygian [voiceover]: I think this is a good place for an old-school 80’s training montage. Don’t you? First, the music.

How about some suitable montage music?

Stygian [voiceover]: Ok, seriously? The Karate Kid?

What about this?

Stygian [voiceover]: This is Anna Stone and Chad Mason I’m coming up against here, not Clubber Lang!

Okay, okay, I know what you want!

Stygian [voiceover]: No, you don’t. Why the fuck would you pick that? I’m not going to launch an air strike against Natural Law!

No, but you were in the Air Force.

Stygian [voiceover]: And?

It’s Top Gun!

Stygian [voiceover]: Top Gun was about the Navy!

Really?

Stygian [voiceover]: Yeah!

But they had planes!

Stygian [voiceover]: Planes they launched off a boat!

The Air Force doesn’t launch planes off a boat?

Stygian [voiceover]: No.

Are you sure?

Stygian [voiceover]: Which one of us was in the Air Force?

Fine, fine. My mistake. Okay, I’m gonna take one more stab at this… Suitable montage music?

Stygian [voiceover]: YES!

Now that suitable music is in place…

Stygian trades blows with his sparring partner, following them into the clinch. The drills are done over and over, interspersed with footage of Kurt pulling the two of them aside and demonstrating a new twist or technique, only to cut to Stygian trying it out a moment later. This pattern keeps up ‘til the bridge just after the solo…where the audio is replaced with the Cantina band song, Lilith and Lilah are in the ring, and they’re leading the three combatants in the “Party Rock Anthem” dance. Then back to the training drills until the song fades out, and the video cuts.

Stygian sits on the ring apron guzzling Gatorade with Lilith and Lilah on either side of him. He’s taken off his shirt and used it as a towel to dry the sweat off his face with. Kurt has a towel hanging around his shoulders and a Gatorade of his own. There’s several seconds where the only sound is heavy breathing and the guzzling of fluids like a Conehead before Kurt finally speaks.

Kurt Sloane: So I’ve got your email address, and Adobe connect, you have the camera?

About that time, Chuck comes in, screen left, with a fresh mojito.

Chuck Finley: He will.

Lilith: Chuck?

Chuck Finley: Yeah, Lil.

Lilith: You said this camera has 3D capture and complete motion tracking.

Chuck Finley: Yeah, it does. It’s like that think my kid has on his X Box, damn what is it?

Stygian: Kinect.

Chuck Finley: Yeah.

Lilah: What’s connected to his X Box?

Lilith: No, honey, Kinect.

Lilah: No, Lil connected. You’re the one always telling me about tenses.

Lilith: It’s not a tense. The think is called a Kinect. Just Kinect.

Stygian: You know that thing on our X-Box you hate?

Lilah: That thing that we play Dance, Dane Revolution with?

Lilith: Yes!

Stygian: That’s Kinect.

Lilah: Oooh…yeah, I hate that thing. Totally impossible to play DDR.

Chuck Finley: My boys love it. That’s one of their favorite games.

Lilith: Your boys don’t have her rack.

Chuck Finley: Well, no…what difference does that make?

Lilith: Her boobs throw off the motion sensor. It thinks her hands are moving.

Chuck finds himself making eye contact with the same place most men find themselves making eye contact with her at.

Chuck Finley: Really?

Lilith: Yeah

Stygian: There is not enough duct tape in the world when that girl plays DDR.

Kurt Sloane: I can see that. How come it isn’t a problem for her? Pointing to Lilith.

Lilith: Bungee cords.

Kurt Sloane: Really?

Chuck Finley: Doesn’t that hurt?

Lilith slips off the apron and walks up to Chuck. She walks her fingertips up his chest with a smirk and takes his mojito. She wipes the condensation of the glass across her forehead and then drinks about half of it down.

Lilith: Most things do if you do them right, Chuck.

She hands the slack-jawed Chuck back his mojito and grabs Stygian and Lilah by the wrists.

Lilith: Chuck, be a good boy and lock down the men’s shower for an hour or so.

Chuck Finley: I can’t. It doesn’t even have a door.

Lilah: Damn…

Lilith: We are the only women here…I suppose nobody else will come in to the little girls room.

Stygian: We’re just going to hit the showers.

Lilah: Yeah, we’ve got to get cleaned up and stuff.

Lilith: Darling, this is Chuck. He knows we’re not going to do anything remotely clean.

Lilith and Lilah take one of Stygian’s arms each and start dragging him. He only fakes resistance.

Stygian: Sorry Chuck, Kurt, duty calls.

Kurt Sloane: I can see that. I’ll email you next week. Remember to come out and see me when you’re in Los Angeles later on.

Stygian: Will do.

Stygian vanishes into the women’s locker room, leaving Chuck and Kurt staring at one another.

Kurt Sloane: So that’s why his cardio is so good.

Chuck Finley: You better believe it, brother. Say, what’s with the accent?

Kurt Sloane: Accent?

Chuck Finley: Yeah, you’re supposed to be American, but you sound like you’re from Belgium.

Kurt Sloane: Yeah, I was born in Canada. Quebec.

Chuck Finley: Funny, Frank Dux said the same thing.

The scene fades out.

It’s a long, desolate, moonlit stretch of the Orlando beach that Stygian walks along in solitude. He’s right above the very end of the wave line, dressed in knee-length athletic shorts, (from the looks of it) black all-terrain boots and a black t-shirt with the Star Destroyer logo glowing as though Stygian was Tony Stark. He turns to face the ocean, looking out across the rippling surface, shining like a multi-faceted jewel in the moonlight; some of the ripples reflect the full moon overhead, some just drop off into what looks like a depthless black.

Stygian: I’ve never congratulated you, Robbie. It was a hell of a kick, I’ll give you that. You earned just about everything you’ve gotten off that win. I won’t say it’s luck. Because despite what you said in that ring when you challenged Chad mason…you know it was. It was one chink in the armor. It was a hole in the wall. A small eyelet that you snuck through. I suppose I owe you a debt. You found a weak spot and exploited it. But unlike most, when a flaw is exploited I do not whine, I do not cry. I don’t lament it. I don’t sit around going “if you didn’t have that, you wouldn’t have won.” When someone finds an Achilles Heel, a gap in my shields, I go to work and I systematically weed it out. I don’t bitch about you landing a lucky kick, I look at how that kick got through and I rebuild the wall stronger than before. I go back to a trainer, I break down the tape, I find the flaw and I correct it. I’m always reinventing myself. Because let me tell you something, Robbie…let me tell you something I think you had it too easy the first go around to appreciate. I remember when I came here. You won the IWF World Title and got mugged for it all in the span of about 45 seconds. When the rematch came, you just didn’t have it in you, did you? I don’t know if you didn’t train, if you were still butthurt, or you always expected it to be that easy, but you fell far. You fell oh so far. All the way back to the bottom. You had to have James Shark hand you a title. It should have been the moment you played Russian Roulette with an automatic. Given a title. I guess you weren’t too proud to beg. And you know what, for the first few matches, you were still phoning it in. But then something changed. I don’t know what it was, I won’t try to guess. Because bottom line, I don’t know you that well, Robbie.


Stygian: I don’t know what flipped the switch in you Robbie but I saw something when you carried that belt down to the ring week in and week out, something I’ve never seen in you: pride. Yeah, you put a hit out on your own unborn kids, but you found pride again, Robbie. Maybe you found it for the first time. I don’t know. But you know the truly terrifying secret at this level: when you get as good as you were as High Impact champion, when you’re as good as I am now…the only person who can really beat you is the man in the mirror. You’ve finally taken your first real steps into this world. You were ready for it the first time. That’s how Brandon MacDonald beat you. It wasn’t the muggers he hired to rough you up. They merely executed the sentence. Brandon took one look at you holding the title, and he knew you didn’t have it. And as you tumbled from that precipice down into the dregs of mediocrity, you couldn’t figure out how it happened. I bet it was when James Shark handed you that belt. I know that would do it for me. Someone handing me an also-ran title the way they hand out change to street people. That would make me look in the mirror and wonder what I’d done with my career. It would be rock bottom for me. I think it was for you, Robbie. Son of a legend, and look at you: being handed a belt by James Shark. Suddenly all of the expectations fell away, and that potential looked wasted. You could have been Prince Fielder, and instead you turned out to be Brian Griese. But I will give you this Robbie; you rebuilt. You’ve come up. You have to be honest with something man…it may or may not be a fluke that you beat me. Maybe you really are that good. But you have to admit that you didn’t really prove anything. Maybe you can beat me again, Robbie. I personally want to try again in a couple months. And when that time comes, you might win. You might beat me. But you will never again beat me that way.

Stygian: Chad Mason…how did it feel Chad? Tell me, because I don’t know. Nobody has ever passed up a big match with me for someone else. When you’re me? There is no one else. Ask Alex Remington. The man has his dream girl, he has his career back, he has a stranglehold on UECW, and the only name he can speak is “STYGIAN”. Over and over. Like a summoning ritual. As though if he says the spells and recites the oaths to the gods of old, I will appear before him. So how did it feel, Chad? Because you’ve genuinely accomplished more than anyone would have predicted of you…ever. You’ve done something nobody would have ever bet on you doing. For all the people who brush it aside, for all the people who say it won’t last…I’ve taken notice. You’re the Insurgency Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Champion. You’ve turned back all comes so far. You won Trip to Oblivion. At this point we can’t say it’s a fluke. You have the belt, and so far you deserve it. You’ve proven that Steel Angel can’t beat you anyway. I for one am anxious to see how you do with a new challenger. I’m not ready to say you’re a legitimate threat yet. You need to beat more than Steel Angel. Robbie Hart will be a different and unique challenge. How you handle it will either begin to solidify, or completely invalidate your reign.

Stygian: But you have to tell me how it felt, Chad. Anna Stone has done nothing but burn through her competition since she got in the ring. She’s the only one who really moved upwards while I was gone. She came in and lit the world on fire. Path To Valhalla is the most grueling, grudging, difficult road that you can walk in this company. It’s literally walking through hell and knocking on the devil’s door. It’s a feat just to survive it, and the prize at the end should be the richest gold in the company. Anna fought tooth and nail to get through that maelstrom to earn the right to challenge you, the man who should represent the pinnacle of the company. The man everyone wants to beat. You should be the one everyone aspires to defeat…and she picked me. You have the IWF title, and next to me you’re a little boy with a pretty bauble. Not even that belt can make beating you a bigger accomplishment than it is to beat me. How many times does that happen? “No, I could fight the champ, but I’d rather fight this guy instead.” I’d ask if that said something about your title reign, or my stature…but the simple truth is that it says something about both. All this time Chad plotted, an schemed, he assembled his Avengers and set out to reclaim his self-respect. And in what should have been his real “you have arrived” moment; the challenge of the Path to Valhalla winner lays the customary challenge? You got passed over like the fat kid in the dodge ball line. How did it feel, Chad? Was it emasculating? Did it invalidate everything you’ve done with that belt? Did it undermine your position as champion? Yes, it did all of those things. You see, Chad, everyone around here knows on simple truth: the only reason you got your hands on that belt at all…is because you didn’t have to take it from me. Anna knew that. She knew who the real champion is. It’s not because if the belt I stole. It’s because of who I am and how I carry myself. It’s because I’ve proven myself time and time again. Anna Stone wanted to face the best wrestler in the company. That should be the World Heavyweight Champion. But it’s not. Anna knew that. And after she used the flimsiest of loopholes to get out of a match with you, and jump into the fire with me? You knew it too. Chad, when you’re the best? People want to fight you. They want to test themselves. They want to see where they measure up. You’re in the ring with two people who knew that. Nobody comes to you to make their name, Chad. They come to me. You might as well not have that belt. Because given the option of beating me, or your title, they’ll chose to fight me every time. You have to tell me how that felt, Chad, because I will never know. There’s no bigger match, there’s no bigger opponent. Nobody will ever pass me over because beating someone else would mean more to their career. I will never be left standing impotent in the middle of the ring, crying “but I’m the champ”.

Stygian: Really this whole match is an exercise. It’s supposed to be a big hype-up thing. Future on other sides of the ring. Both teams are supposed to be these time bombs and we’re waiting to see which one blows up and makes a big stick mess first like some Japanese game show. But the truth is, I have no animosity towards Anna. I have no hatred. She’s an opponent this week, and she’s an opponent at the end of the month. I want to beat her, yes. When the time comes, I will press the throttle all the way up and break the handle. But I don’t have a grudge against her. You see, the way Robbie beat me? Call it luck; call it a fluke…whatever. I call it embarrassing. Robbie didn’t beat me that night because he was better. He beat me because I wasn’t good enough. And so nothing James Shark says on Twitter, nothing Robbie Hart can say, nothing Chad Mason will point at can make me feel worse. I was beaten because of a fundamental weakness. There is no greater motivation for me. I don’t get distracted by gold, I don’t let anger cloud my judgment, I don’t look for revenge. Not against anything any of you can understand. Because I’m not competing against Chad Mason or Robbie Hart. I’m not looking to avenge a loss. I’m not even looking for redemption. In my mind is the perfect Stygian. The fully self-actualized Star Destroyer. It’s not that Robbie Hart beat me. It’s that the effort I brought isn’t worthy of him. I’m not pursuing titles, wins, trophies…I seek nothing but absolute perfection. Every now and then a machine becomes obsolete. When that happens, a replacement must be built, it must be tested, and it must be put into the field. When that happens? I’ll run like a well-oiled machine until the next Robbie Hart finds the next open window to put me down. But I’m not at that point yet. Right now? Right now it’s going to be rough. It’s going to get messy. Right now, I’m back in hardware mode; you two are the first test dummies. Unfortunately…we all know what happens to the test dummies.

Stygian turns on his heel away from the camera and walks slowly up the moonlit beach as the camera blacks out.

Driver: "I still think you're nuts, pal."

I can see the cab driver looking at me through his mirror, his cold blue eyes staring straight at me. I smirk.

Chad Mason: "Maybe. Just a bit farther."

Driver: "I'm telling you, I hate being this deep in Frost's territory. Too cold. And I've never been out this far. I don't think she takes too kindly to trespassers."

Chad Mason: "I'll double the pay."

The driver sighs.

Driver: "...fine."

He takes a deep breath, and presses on, deeper into the heart of Frost's sector of the city. Blinding snow falls heavily around them, preventing the driver and me from seeing any farther than a few feet from the car. It's considerably darker, despite it nearing three in the afternoon. Still, we press on.

Chad Mason: "You know where I might find her?"

Driver: "Not really. Rumors is that she's holed up in the old abandoned North Pole Ice Company warehouse. That would make the most sense anyway. Entire place is essentially one big freezer."

Chad Mason: "How far are we from it?"

Driver: "Do you not see what's going on outside? I can barely see the street signs, let alone signs pointing us to a run-down warehouse!"

I frown, but don't reply, turning my attention back to the window.

Driver: "I can't keep going."

I look at him.

Chad Mason: "I don't get there, you don't get paid."

Driver: "It's not worth it. The car is freezing, pal. The lines are going cold. Any more of this, and we'll break down, right in the middle of this mess. Fuck that. You wanna get there so damn bad, you're on your own."

I stare at him, shaking my head.

Chad Mason: "Unbelievable..."

I open the door, and push against it with all my strength, fighting against the powerful winds that try and keep it shut. The roar of the wind rushes into the car, as does a massive blast of icy air. I slide out of the car, into the blizzard, looking around. Immediately, the cab driver reverses, zipping back the way he came, and leaving me alone in Frost's territory.

It's a strange place. Despite it being July, the snow on the ground reaches my knees...yet, the streets have mostly been plowed, making car travel possible, though very difficult. I can barely see five feet ahead of me, seeing only flurries of white wherever I turn. I take a deep breath, pulling my heavy coat tighter over my body, and press forward. I search, looking for a street sign, anything that might lead me to the warehouse, and Frost. Nothing. I look around, trying to find anything. Only snow.

Chad Mason: "Christ..."

It didn't matter where I turned. Everywhere I looked, snow. A sheet of gray sky. Wind in my face, chilling me to the bone.

I was getting dizzy.

Had I finally reached the end? After all the work...after everything I'd been through...this was it? Destined to freeze to death hunting my final lead? I'd seen the scars of The Shocker...I'd stepped foot in Killbane's arena...discussed art and aesthetics with Masterpiece...and I'd gone face to face with Redentor. Now it was all ending, right here, in this small section of Cavington, in the place where it always snowed.

This is what it was like to die?

It's getting more and more difficult to breathe. I struggle to keep moving, each step feeling heavier and heavier, as if something was weighing me down, or holding me back. I trip, dropping to my knee.

Chad Mason: "Come on..."

My words are instantly lost in the furious roar of the wind. I press forward, muttering words of encouragement under my breath, as if that was all to keep me going.

Chad Mason: "I have to be close..."

I reach out, as if expecting to find the building right in front of me. No such luck. I stumble forward a few more steps, and fall again.

Chad Mason: "Can't..."

I try to find words...any words. My head spins, adding more confusion to the world of blinding snow. I look ahead...was someone coming? I reach out, trying to touch the mysterious silhouette...nothing there. I slowly push myself to my feet, shaking my head, determined to carry forward. I take a few steps towards the figure. My legs shake, and I struggle with each step. Closer...closer...

...not closer? It seems no matter how fast I move, or how many steps I take, the figure does not get any closer. Is it moving away from me? Does it even know I'm here?

Chad Mason: "Hey!"

I call out, hoping maybe the figure will stop. My voice is drowned out by the wind. There's no way anyone could have heard.

Chad Mason: "HEY!"

No response. The figure remains, as stationary as ever. I stare at it. It stands, a shadowy, unidentifiable figure against the gray sky. It appears to be motionless, except...was there something waving around it? Arms, maybe...or flaps of clothing...several of them, waving in the wind...

And still, it moved no closer or farther away.

Chad Mason: "Help..."

The word comes out as a hoarse croak. I reach for the figure one last time, and my knees finally give way. My hand falls on something buried in the snow. I stare down, not quite sure what to make of it. Gently, I brush the snow away.

Chad Mason: "Oh..."

It's a boot. I slowly lift it out of the snow, looking at it. A plain black snowboot, buried under the snow. I wonder how long it had been there. I look back to where I had found it. Black strands lie in the snow, just under where the boot had been. Curious, I pull at them, but they don't move. I dig around in the snow a bit, trying to find the ends. I can feel something heavy, soft, beneath the snow. I dig around a bit, brushing more snow away.

It's a face. I stare down at it. Under normal circumstances, I might have been surprised. Afraid. I might have even run away. It's a young woman, her eyes open, her skin frostbitten. She stares, expressionless at the sky. I blink a few times, staring at the body. I wonder what she had been in this area of the city for. I wonder for a moment what she was like...she had a pretty face.

She blinks, and I jump back. Slowly, she sits up, staring at me. I slowly try to scramble away. She stares at me through her dead eyes, and her lips slowly part into a wide grin. Her lips tear and bleed as she exposes broken teeth. Slowly, the girl lifts her arm up out of the snow. I scramble to my feet, trying to get away. I turn, and try to run. Run towards the figure in the distance. My lungs feel as though they'll burst. I run as hard as I can. My legs are numb. My chest burns. Still, I run. I can feel the girl behind me, hear her feet pounding in the snow below. I can almost see her, chasing after me, her frostbitten fingers, reaching for me, ready to bring me to share her icy tomb. I trip, and fall face-first into the snow. I scream as I feel a cold hand close around my ankle. I kick and thrash, trying her escape her grip. I look back at her.

Nothing there. The icy feeling on my leg disappears instantly. I look around, half-expecting her to rise from the snow, tear me apart, make me like her.

Nothing.

Nobody around.

I collapse in the snow. My lungs burn. I try to push myself up, and realize my hand is resting on a strange object beneath the snow. I stare at it for a second. A chill runs down my spine as I realize what it is.

A boot.

The SAME boot.

I dig frantically in the snow, looking for the dead woman.

Nobody.

Nothing.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I collapse, burying my face in the snow. For a moment, I feel warm. The world is silent, and I can no longer hear the roaring wind. Only my own heavy breathing...my heartbeat...it seemed fast. Almost immediately, it comes rushing back. The wind returns. I pull my face from the snow, looking up for the shadowy figure. It's gone. Not so much as a hint that it was ever there.

Chad Mason: "Come back.."

For a second, I feel as though I could cry...I feel crushed, like the figure was my last beacon of hope in the icy wasteland. Now it was gone, and a deep feeling of nausea overcomes me. I was abandoned.

And it was so very cold...

I make one last feeble attempt, crawling forward another few feet.

Then the world goes black.

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

I slowly open my eyes, finding myself in a white room.

Chad Mason: "What..."

???: "So you're awake."

I jump, looking for the source of the noise. A woman in a white coat stands off to the side, her back turned to me. I can only see her brown hair, falling gracefully over her shoulders.

Chad Mason: "Where am I?"

The woman turns around, and I try to stifle a gasp. She wears a surgical mask, but it's her exposed skin that causes a shock. It's blue in color, and appears to be reflecting light off of it. There are strange, pale discolorations across her face, like tiny crystals, splashed in a random pattern across her face. She holds my arm. Her hands are freezing...but I don't really mind. There was something calming about it. She injects a long syringe into my skin. Immediately, I feel warmer.

Nurse: "You would have died out there if my patrols hadn't found you."

Chad Mason: "What happened?"

Nurse: "You passed out. An effect of the cold, no doubt. Most people can't handle it. I like it, though."

The woman's voice is soft. I feel at ease, listening to her speak. The entire room is calm...quiet...clean. For the first time in days, I feel fine.

Chad Mason: "Where am I?"

Nurse: "Well...actually, you're in the North Pole Ice Company warehouse. More specifically, though, you're in the relocated office of Dr. Jessica Matthews. They always said it was the best medical facility Cavington had to offer."

I nod. Dr. Matthews. That name sounded familiar. Was that why I had come? I think back. Why had I been out there in the first place? The reason escapes me. I could remember a cab...and a driver...I remembered it was snowing...but I could not remember why I was there to begin with. All I can think of now is the warmth I feel coursing through my body. The feeling of relief that washes over me as the nurse checks me over for frostbite and other injuries. Everything is calm.

Chad Mason: "Are you Dr. Matthews?"

The nurse shakes her head.

Nurse: "No."

I lie back on the bed.

Chad Mason: "I can't remember anything."

Nurse: "It's the trick of the office."

Chad Mason: "The trick?"

Nurse: "My mother...it was funny, really. She cared for them. All of them. The freaks...the mutants...the people that thought themselves to be heroes of this town...the people who went on to terrorize it...They never realized she was one of them."

Chad Mason: "What?"

The nurse looks back to me, snapping out of her trance.

Nurse: "My mother was famous around this town. I'm sure you've noticed by now, Cavington isn't like your other towns. People here have...conditions. Abilities. Strange powers, almost. My mother understood them. She helped them. Cared for them. Taught them how to use their abilities to help Cavington. Some of them did well in this city. Others turned against it. People never understood what my mother's secret was."

Chad Mason: "What was it?"

Nurse: "My mother had a strange ability. Her presence alone calmed people down. Her voice could tame the wildest animals. And her office...it was built to capture that power of hers. Unfortunately, the calming effect is enough that some people can't handle it. They become so relaxed, they can't think of anything that might disrupt their sense of comfort."

Chad Mason: "The power is still in the room?"

Nurse: "No. I inherited the condition from my mother...but the office is still designed to magnify it. When you leave this room, I'm sure you'll remember everything."

Chad Mason: "Who are you?"

The nurse smiles.

Nurse: "My name is Raylyn Casey."

She slowly pulls the needle from my arm, and wraps it.

Raylyn Casey: "I think you'll be fine."

Chad Mason: "What did you do?"

Raylyn Casey: "A serum my mother invented. Specifically designed to heat the body and instantly cure the effects of hypothermia. She intended it to be...a cure. For me."

Chad Mason: "It didn't work, then?"

Raylyn Casey: "The opposite. It almost killed me. She had to lock me in a freezer for an hour in order to save my life. But her creation did prove to be a powerful cure for hypothermia. It served a purpose."

I sit up in the bed.

Raylyn Casey: "You feel ok, then?"

I nod.

Raylyn Casey: "Walk with me, then."

I slide out of the bed, and follow Casey from the room. She removes her coat, tossing it over a chair as we leave. Beneath it, she wears a black vest, held on by a series of leather straps which also hold numerous small weapons. She smirks at my reaction.

Raylyn Casey: "Someone in my position must arm themselves at all times."

We step out of the room, and immediately a cold chill hits me.

Raylyn Casey: "Much nicer out here."

Chad Mason: "It's freezing."

Raylyn Casey: "Home sweet home."

We walk down a long hallway. Large icicles hang from the ceiling. I can see my breath, coming as short puffs of freezing air. Despite the frigid temperatures, though, Raylyn remains calm. She doensn't shiver in the cold. Her breath does not appear before her.

Chad Mason: "Frost..."

She smiles.

Frost: "I was wondering when you'd catch on."

Chad Mason: "I came here to find you."

Frost smirks. Without warning, she draws a long dagger from her vest with one arm, and slams me up against the wall with the other. She gets in my face, holding the dagger to my throat.

Frost: "What made you come here? Assassination? Trying to take me into custody? I saw your badge, Inspector. Who sent you?"

Chad Mason: "Nobody sent me. I work alone."

Frost glares at me. She grabs my wrist with her free hand. I look down, and see a layer of ice beginning to form over my skin.

Frost: "For your sake, Inspector, you'd better not be lying to me..."

Chad Mason: "I only wished to speak with you."

Frost stares at me for a moment longer. Finally, she releases her grip, and slips the dagger back in her vest.

Frost: "Speak to me about what?"

Chad Mason: "I've been trying to find someone."

Frost leans up against the wall, looking at me.

Frost: "And you think I know where they are?"

Chad Mason: "My investigation has led me to you."

Frost: "I know a lot of people. Which one are you after?"

Chad Mason: "Kryptic."

Frost stares at me for a moment. She seems much more relaxed, like she had been at the office. She smiles warmly.

Raylyn Casey: "Follow me."

She heads off down the hallway again, and I hesitantly follow.

Chad Mason: "Where are we headed, exactly?"

Raylyn Casey: "I think you should meet the family."

We reach a large set of wooden doors. She looks back at me, the pushes the doors open, revealing a massive room. At the opposite end is a large chair, sitting between two large, ice-coated statues. One is of a beautiful woman in a lab coat. The other shows a man, a nasty sneer on his face, and a long flowing cape behind him.

Raylyn Casey: "My parents. My mother was Dr. Jessica Matthews. Adored by the city. Cared for the sick, aided those who had strange abilities."

She looks to the man.

Raylyn Casey: "And my father. Corey Casey. Cavington knew him as Hellfire. He spent years trying to take over the city, and almost succeeded. Killed several heroes that tried to step up against him...he even nearly destroyed half of Cavington once."

Chad Mason: "What stopped him?"

Raylyn Casey: "Kryptic."

I wasn't expecting that answer.

Raylyn Casey: "Outsiders always viewed Cavington as a divided city. There were good guys and bad guys. That was never the case. Sure, there are some people who tried to protect the people...but most of them simply had their own agendas. Hellfire and Kryptic wanted power...which made them enemies."

Chad Mason: "From what I know, Kryptic ran the entire city at one point."

Raylyn Casey: "He won the war. Kryptic and Hellfire fought for years, trying to wrest control from each other. The problem was, they had two contrasting methods of getting it. My father was about destruction. He amassed his troops in long-winded sieges and manhunts for Kryptic and his allies. He spent his time destroying as much of the city as he could."

She stares at the statue for a moment.

Frost: "There's only one way to find someone hiding in the woods. Burn the entire thing to the ground."

Frost runs her hand over the base of the statue. A fresh layer of ice spreads from her fingertips, engulfing the stone.

Chad Mason: "But Kryptic wasn't a fighter."

Frost smirks.

Chad Mason: "Hellfire was about brute force and mass destruction. Kryptic dealt in lies and deceit. His strategy involved manipulating the world around him."

Frost: "He twisted the city to his advantage. Even if my father had destroyed the entire town, it would have made little difference. People loved Kryptic. They thought he stood for something greater. Something that could defeat the chaos Hellfire caused."

Chad Mason: "Did he?"

Frost: "Almost. I was his ace in the hole. I was meant to be his secret weapon in the fight against Kryptic. Someone who was just as deadly. Just as cunning. Someone who could one day take over my father's legacy when the city belonged to him."

Chad Mason: "And you succeeded."

Raylyn Casey: "I didn't. My mother calmed me. Taught me the other side. What I could become. I could be greater than my father. I could be just as powerful, just as destructive...or I could be loved by the people. Just like she was."

Chad Mason: "You were torn between your parents. You had to pick a side."

Raylyn Casey: "I was the daughter of Cavington's beloved doctor, and it's most sadistic killer."

She runs her hand over her mother's statue, coating it in ice as well.

Raylyn Casey: "The daughter of love and rage."

Chad Mason: "So how was your father stopped?"

Raylyn Casey: "A group of people. They called themselves The Resistance. They banded together to put an end to my father's rampage."

Chad Mason: "They killed him?"

Raylyn looks up at her father's face. A tear falls from her face, freezing into crystal the moment it touches her skin.

Raylyn Casey: "I lost my father to them. He fought, and killed three of them...but the numbers were too much. They destroyed him. Nobody ever found a body."

Chad Mason: "I'm sorry..."

Raylyn looks up at the statue.

Raylyn Casey: "I still miss him."

Chad Mason: "What did you do, then? After your father died?"

Frost looks at me, and smirks. She sits in her chair, between the statues. Around the room, the walls begin to shift. Large pieces of ice fall away, revealing small alcoves around the room. Each one contains another, smaller statue. I can't help but gasp as I realize what they really are. Upon closer inspection, I see that they aren't statues at all. Rather, they are the physical bodies of people, frozen in ice, trapped in strange poses around the room.

Frost: "They say revenge is a dish best served cold."

Chad Mason: "You hunted them."

Frost: "I hunted them. I caught them. I brought them here. All of them. Sonic Boom. Renegade. Ace Hero. Red Arrow. All of them, fallen at my hands."

Chad Mason: "That's why you have Killbane on your side."

Frost: "Our motives are different, but we share in the same love of the hunt. He hunts to kill. I hunt to capture. To add to my growing collection. Killbane only wants blood and honor."

Chad Mason: "What about your mother?"

Frost: "What about her? She tried to talk me out of it. She refused to understand. Believed someday, it would be Hellfire's time to die, and when it did, he would go down in a blazing glory. She didn't understand. My father was stolen from me. He was taken before his time."

Chad Mason: "She was a good woman. You should have listened-"

Frost: "She was naive. Stupid. There is one law in Cavington. Only the strongest survive. This entire city is one big game of survival of the fittest. My mother could only sit in her offices, taking care of the weak so that they weren't destroyed by the strong. I was one of the strong. She believed things would always get better. Believed all you needed to do to succeed was keep on going."

Chad Mason: "And the people loved her for it."

Frost: "She was stupid. At one time, maybe she was right. Mind your own business, and you'll do fine. But a new day was coming to Cavington, and she refused to see it. There were more people every day, trying to take the city for themselves. Trying to seize power. The world as my mother knew it was gone."

Chad Mason: "So you did what you thought was necessary to survive."

Frost: "That's what my mother never understood. Cavington was in a different era. A darker era. Colder. And if you can't come in from the cold...you have to grow ice over your heart. She couldn't leave her precious people. I could."

Chad Mason: "But you did it for your own gain. You never thought maybe your mother was right? She taught people to use their abilities to help others. You never thought you could have used your talents to stop this darkness you're talking about? You never thought you could be the one to end the corruption that was plaguing Cavington?"

Frost smirks.

Frost: "But I did..."

She nods her head to one of the alcoves. I turn to look at it. A lone man stands, his head bowed, his hands folded across a cane. He wears a suit and a hat that conceals his features. Even without seeing the man's face though, I know who it is.

Chad Mason: "Kryptic..."

Frost nods.

Frost: "Kryptic. I caught him. Killed him. Brought him back here. I did what my father failed to do, and in doing so, I avenged his untimely death."

Chad Mason: "You didn't care about taking the city. You cared about vengeance."

Frost: "I established my place in this city to complete my father's work. I will not rest until the entire city has come under my power...and only then will I think my work complete."

Chad Mason: "And then what? You throw it away? You work your entire life to achieve what Hellfire couldn't...but what will you do if you succeed?"

Frost: "Nothing."

Chad Mason: "But why?"

Frost smiles.

Frost: "The same reason my father wanted to take the city."

She leans towards me in her chair.

Frost: "Just to prove we can."

She smirks.

Frost: "My father truly believed he was the most powerful entity to ever walk the earth. The man could call on demons from the deepest levels of hell. He could burn a building to the ground with a snap of his fingers. He was feared throughout the entire city. A walking apocalypse. The man who could bring the entire city to its knees by force."

Chad Mason: "And he failed. What makes you think you would succeed?"

Frost: "My father was all about destruction. He killed his rivals through sheer force. I don't kill."

Chad Mason: "Why not?"

Raylyn Casey: "Because I can't."

Chad Mason: "Your mother's influence."

Raylyn Casey: "Both of them live through me, even to this day. All the power and destructive capability of my father...coupled with the compassion and mercy of my mother."

She stands, moving around the room, looking at her frozen prisoners.

Frost: "Kryptic was the greatest challenge. I had a very special pose picked out for him."

She smirks at Kryptic, forever trapped with his head bowed to her.

Chad Mason: "They said he could never be caught."

Frost: "The man is impressive, I will never deny him that. His power was so great, he became a myth. People talked about him, told stories about him, shared what they heard from other people. Eventually, the line between what was true and what was fabricated was gone. Some people thought he was just a genius who had turned to crime. Some thought he was an organization working towards one goal. Some people didn't even believe he existed. Some believed a combination of any of those. My family knew the truth. We knew who Kryptic was...and years spent learning from my mother and father taught me what I needed to know to stop him."

Chad Mason: "But how did they know? What did your parents know that the rest of Cavington didn't?"

Raylyn runs her fingers over Kryptic's face.

Raylyn Casey: "Kryptic was my uncle."

I stare at Kryptic, then to Raylyn.

Raylyn Casey: "It's something that nobody knows, and very few people would ever guess. Kryptic was my mother's brother. It made sense, really. Two of the brightest people in Cavington's history...they just took different paths. My mother was a doctor. My uncle conned his way into running Cavington."

Chad Mason: "What did your mother say about you hunting her brother?"

Raylyn Casey: "She never knew. I knew better than to tell her. The fights between her and my father...he hunted Kryptic with an undying hatred. My mother never forgave him for it. They would fight endlessly on the subject. My father insisting that the world needed Kryptic gone, my mother trying to protect her brother."

Chad Mason: "Your parents stayed together, though."

Raylyn Casey: "My mother's ability, remember? No matter how bad their fighting got, she was always able to keep his temper in check. She was always able to calm him down. My mother was not the kind for revenge. She believed Hellfire was just a problem he had. An illness that she could cure. She loved my father, she only hated what he had become. She thought she could change that."

Chad Mason: "She never did."

Frost: "Like I said before. She was naive."

???: "She was a great woman."

Frost turns quickly, looking towards the door. A man stands, wearing a suit an hat, and leaning on a cane with a large green jewel perched at the top. I look back to the Kryptic encased in ice, then back to the man in the doorframe.

Chad Mason: "How-"

Frost smirks, and kneels down, gently brushing her fingers across the floor. Ice spreads out, forming across the floor, moving towards Kryptic. It rises from the ground, solidifying around Kryptic's ankles, preventing him from moving. He tries to move, but can't. Frost looks from her trophy Kryptic to the one standing in the door. She shakes her head.

Frost: "I don't understand."

Kryptic: "You don't need to."

Frost approaches Kryptic. She gets up close to him, staring at him, looking him over. He remains calm, watching as Frost circles him.

Kryptic: "Surprised, Raylyn?"

Frost: "A little bit, I'll admit. But I suppose it doesn't matter."

She gently runs her fingers down Kryptic's arm. He tries to move, but the ice quickly engulfs his limgs, spreading across his body, encasing him in a sheet of ice.

Frost: "In the end, your most elaborate plans couldn't stop me."

Kryptic: "Are you sure about that?"

Frost turns to see a second Kryptic walking up behind the first. Frost makes a grab, but Kryptic draws a gun, and fires it. The bullet hits Frost through the stomach, and she screams, keeling over. Kryptic stares down at her, smirking.

Kryptic: "You really are just like your old man, Ray."

Kryptic kneels next to Frost. She makes a feeble attempt to touch him, but Kryptic grabs her arm. He whips out a syringe, filled with the same hypothermia cure from the office. He calmly pushes the needle into Frost's arm, emptying the liquid into her blood. She stares at him, horrified. I run to help Frost. Kryptic calmly stands, and fires a second shot. I immediately crumple to the ground as a sharp pain shoots through my leg.

Chad Mason: "FUCK!"

Kryptic steps into the room, glancing at the ice-encased statues of himself as he does. He looks at me, lying on the floor, blood seeping from the bullet wound in my leg.

Kryptic: "The great Inspector Mason...I suppose I need to thank you. You played your role in this beautifully, and now here we are, with my enemies gone and only my allies remaining."

He smiles, looking back at Frost, who takes short, gasping breaths as she tries to find an area of intense cold to re-freeze herself.

Kryptic: "I suppose I should introduce myself, though. You can call me Kryptic."

Tugging on Superman's Cape

We find ourselves on a beautiful white sandy beach in Orlando, following a familiar-looking seven footer in an Avenger’s t-shirt and knee-length athletic shorts walking side-by-side with a recognizable, slightly-graying man in a Hawaiian shirt, white khakis, holding a mojito.

Stygian [voiceover]: Chuck came down to Orlando for the match. Well, he came down to get some alone time with his wife. His kids are old enough to see to themselves, and he doesn’t take nearly enough vacation time. Says it’s helped put some spark back in places I didn’t need to know one of my childhood idols had sparks. It makes me wonder what will happen to Lilith, Lilah and me if children ever come. Will it be awkward? What if one of them can’t have children? What if Lilith can’t have kids and Lilah can? Would my wife be comfortable…no…too many questions. Chuck came down because he’s my new Yoda. After Robbie Hart humiliated me, I needed to know if it was a fluke, or Robbie found a hole. Chuck says it was a little of both. He said that first kick Robbie landed was desperation, but it was a hole which could be exploited later. He said I needed to synthesize two new fighting styles into my own: Muay Thai and Sumo. He lined up legendary kickboxer Kurt Sloane to be one trainer. He hasn’t introduced me to my Sumo guy, or really told me why I need to learn Sumo. We’ll get to that later. We’ve been walking this beach for about an hour, shooting the breeze, when finally the relevant conversation begins. You see, Chuck said I need to diversify my wrestling, and I want to know what the Hell he means.

Chuck Finley: So you remember Japan?

Stygian: Yeah, when they had me imitate…

Chuck Finley: Interrupting. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…forget that. I know you hated imitating him. Anyone would hate playing cover tunes with someone else’s material for their whole career.

Stygian: Tell that to James Shark. All the guy needs is a tribal face tattoo and he’s Mike Tyson.

Chuck Finley: Funny, but irrelevant. Focus Daniel-san.

Stygian: Focusing.

Chuck Finley: Back when you had to imitate, well, who you were imitating in Japan, you did a lot of his moves, and even threw some of your own in. You used to be more versatile.

Stygian: All that aerial stuff?

Chuck Finley: Yes, that “aerial stuff”!

Stygian: I did one move.

Chuck Finley: Now you didn’t. He did one move. He had the top-rope clothesline. Well, he also had the suicide dive, which you also had. You did a missile dropkick, a slingshot shoulder block, a diving sunset flip power bomb…and by the time you were UECW Champion you stopped doing all of that…why?

Stygian: It seemed extemporaneous.

Chuck Finley: How so?

Stygian: When a 180 pound cruiserweight misses off the top rope, it might hurt, but it doesn’t hurt as much as when a 315 pound man misses. I mean, that’s just simple physics. If I dive off the top rope, I’m getting 70% more returned impact than say, the late Eddie Guerrero.

Chuck Finley: How do you do that?

Stygian: I have Masters Degrees in two engineering fields. I eat kinetic force equations for breakfast.

Chuck Finley: Fair enough. So when you miss, it hurts more. It also hurts your opponent more when you hit!

Stygian: It hurts even if I hit. I’m jumping off a four foot high platform which consists of a one inch rope. Even in that short of a span, that’s 1724 Joules of impact on my body if I hit or miss.

Chuck Finley: Going into your jewels?

Stygian: No Joules, it’s a…

Chuck smirks before taking a sip of his mojito.

Stygian: Wiseass!

Chuck Finley: How does your brunette pull that off with impunity?

Stygian: Impunity?

Chuck Finley: Hey, eventually some of your thousand dollar words sneak in.

Stygian: You even used it correctly!

Chuck Finley: I’m glad you’re impressed. Still, Lilah, how does she get away with playing dumb.

Stygian: She has 32FF reasons why.

Chuck Finley: Jesus…really?

Stygian: Yeah.

Chuck Finley: They’re real?

Stygian: Yeah.

Chuck Finley: Holy shit. Yeah, I see how she can afford to be dumb.

Stygian: Actually she’s playing. She’s just really good at it.

Chuck Finley: She’s actually smart?

Stygian: But not smart enough to know Lilith and I know. Anyway, why did you bring up my top rope antics from Japan?

Chuck Finley: Because I think you need to reintegrate them. You power game is good, it’s great, it’s second to none. You might be the strongest wrestler in the world. You’re for sure the strongest in IWF. But it’s predictable. You can execute it flawlessly, but it means they always know where you’re coming from. I’m not saying you need to be Ruben Ricardo Leon, but if you add…

Chuck starts counting on his fingers.

Chuck Finley: Five moves to your arsenal. Just five, that’s enough so that they don’t know where you’re coming from all the time. You have a pattern, Jason. Power, power, power, power…If you learn five moves, four of which you used to do regularly, you can throw the pattern off just enough. It’s the next step in this constant evolution you’re always doing.

Stygian: Five moves, you say?

Chuck Finley: Just like my entire sexual repertoire.

Stygian: I could teach you, you know.

Chuck Finley: Kid, I’m not as flexible and don’t have nearly as many functioning joints as you do anymore. You’ve got nothing I could use.

Stygian: Fair enough, what are the moves?

Chuck Finley: I’m glad you asked.

Chuck stops walking, finishes his mojito and points. Their walk has brought them to the foot of a white adobe open-air pavilion that’s likely more commonly used for small concerts or a dance floor for beach raves. Chuck has arranged for a wrestling ring to be set up inside it’s surprisingly spacious confines. There are heavy crash mats all around the ring, and two guys in those heavy protections suits like people wear in self-defense classes to play the attacker. One stands inside the ring, the other out of it.

Stygian: You would.

Chuck Finley: I did.

The air of them walk up the platform steps and into the shade.

Stygian: That’s nice but I don’t have my…

Lilah: HEAD’S UP!

Lilah streaks past in a sports bra and running shorts on a pair of neon pink roller blades, tossing a beat up ole Air Force duffel bag to Stygian. She’s there and gone just that fast.

Stygian: …gear.

Chuck Finley: You were saying?

Stygian: Give me a second…

Stygian takes off his shirt and throws it over the camera.

The next time we have picture, Stygian stands in the ring dressed in a black under armor shirt, black gi pants, red Asics wrestling shoes, black elbow pads and black MMA gloves. One of the guys in the full body suits stands in the corner, drinking bottled water, Chuck leans in another corner as Stygian sits on the top rope, looking down at one of the crash mats brought into the ring.

Chuck Finley: So, four of the moves, you’ve already mastered. You used to use them all the time; the slingshot shoulder block from the apron, the diving clothesline from the top, the suicide dive over the top, the missile drop kick…the fifth move is one you should know. The good old Randy Savage elbow drop.

Stygian: Randy Savage?

Chuck Finley: OOOOOH YEAH!

Stygian: You do that well.

Chuck Finley: We had some matches in the 80’s.

Stygian: Who didn’t you have matches with back then?

Chuck Finley: I’m sure it’s a short list. Now if you look at that mat, there’s a one-foot square. If you can hit that consistently, you can hit that elbow on anyone. Death Angel, Anna Stone, R2D2, doesn’t matter.

Stygian: Great, might as well get started.

Chuck Finley: That’s what I like to hear. Okay, now Randy made it look easy, because Randy was one of the most meticulous sons of bitches I ever met in my life. He makes that thing your wife does with Skittles look sane.

Stygian: I can see wanting to save your favorite flavor for last.

Chuck Finley: She doesn’t just pull out the grape, though. She separates all of them and eats them in ascending order. That’s crazy.

Stygian: Possibly.

Chuck Finley: Alright, get your balance, spot your target and let fly.

Stygian climbs up top, holds his arms up, fingers pointed to the sky, and pauses.

Stygian: OOOOOOOOOOOOOH YEAH!

Chuck Finley: No.

Stygian: Just once, out of respect.

Chuck Finley: Fine.

Stygian: And because I’ve wanted to do it since I was 7.

Chuck Finley: Understandable.

Stygian: Here goes.

Stygian jumps off, spins around…and just about missies the mat. Forget the target. He sits up and looks at Chuck. Chuck shakes his head.

Chuck Finley: Not even close.

Stygian: Damn, Randy did make it look easy.

Stygian [voiceover]: At this point, if you haven’t figured out that this is actually turning into a promo series and I’m affectionately tipping my cap to all of those 80’s fighting movies with the whacky old mentor and training montages…you should just close the window. Maybe uninstall your browser. So, can we have some music? And can you do better than last time?

I got it right eventually.

Stygian [voiceover]: Can you try to do it the first time?

How about the training song from Rocky IV?

Stygian [voiceover]: YES!

Stygian stands on the top rope again and jumps off as the intro of the song gives way to the verse. He misses. The next cut is Chuck standing beside the mat and giving some kind of demonstration looking through his hands like Madonna in the “Vogue” video. Stygian tries it, jumps off and misses. Miss after miss. Chuck has the guy in the padded suit try it, Stygian misses. Chuck lies on the mat and they argue back and forth before chuck signals “bring it”, Stygian still misses. They sit up next to one another and Chuck glares over at Stygian shaking his head. Next there’s a bulls-eye placed on the target, Stygian jumps off and misses. Lilith turns up and they have one of those 80’s movie kisses like Rocky and Adrian. Stygian confidently shoots up to the top rope, LEAPS OFF…and…misses the mark completely. Lilith shakes her head, Chuck shakes his head, Stygian falls back and slaps the mat in frustration. Stygian is at the top rope again, Lilith stands in the rin with her back to the camera and flashes Stygian her boobs. He jumps off…aaaaaaaand…comes closer than he ever has. He looks up at Chuck who holds his hands about five inches apart.

Chuck suddenly has an epiphany and drags Lilith off. She comes back fully, hell for the weather more than fully clothed in a purple track suit, complete with zipped windbreaker. Stygian sits on the top rope with a “wtf” look and points at Lilith. She points at the target. After a glare he mounts the top rope, dives off and drives the elbow home. Stygian sits up and looks at Chuck, who nods and points to Lilith. Lilith unzips her jacket an takes it off, revealing a tight purple tank top. She points to the top rope again. Go to a split screen of Stygian jumping off the top rope over and over again, every time he hits the elbow and Lilith removes another article of clothing.until she final stands barefoot in the ring, wearing only purple panties and a white Ninja Turtle bra pained to look like Donatello’s eyes and mask no, really. She’s applauding as Chuck Finley directs traffic. Stygian pounds on the guy in the padded suit with some of the kickboxing maneuvers Kurt taught him, before slipping behind the guy and hitting a Full Nelson Slam. Chuck points to the top rope. Stygian scampers up and waits on the guy getting up and drills him with a flying clothesline, rolling through to his feet. Chuck points at the other guy outside the ring. Stygian bounces off the far ropes, leaps over and wipes that guy out with a suicide dive on the crash mats. Chuck gets down on one knee and pounds the mat. Stygian scrambles to his feet hurriedly, flat-foot jumps onto the ring apron and hits the first guy with a slingshot shoulder block that takes him down. He thinks about catching his breath but Chuck hovers over him in his face shouting. Stygian gets to his feet and sprints into the corner, climbing the corner setting his balance, raising his arms and taking flight, nailing the Randy Savage elbow drop. Stygian sits up and holds his fists in the air triumphantly. Chuck claps and falls to his knees like Jackson in Bloodsport. (And if you don’t think there’s a Bloodsport RP coming out of this, you’re fucking nuts!) Lilith dives into his lap and straddles, her back to the camera, and takes off her bra to motorboat stygian as the music fades. Chuck helps the padded man to his feet before Stygian falls back on him. The camera hovers, and then pans up to Chuck and the man in the padded suit. Somehow in the three seconds it took him to help the man up, a fresh mojito is in his hand.

Padded Man: What are you going to make him do before she takes of her panties?

Chuck Finley: Nothing, once he sees the boobs, we’ve lost him.

Padded Man: Are they going to…

Chuck Finley: Yep.

Padded Man: Right here in the middle of the ring?

Chuck Finley: We should go.

Padded Man: This isn’t the first time you’ve seen this, is it?

Chuck shakes his head in horror and sips his mojito.

Chuck Finley: On the plus side, it got my gym onto youtube.

Padded Man: Right.

Lilith’s hand reaches up and she snatches Sam’s mojito.

Chuck Finley: Aw, c’mon Lil, not my mojito!

Padded Man: That was obviously very cold.

Chuck Finley: Come on, let’s go.

Padded Man: You can keep my money.

Chuck Finley: Fine, stay, they won’t care. I need a mojito.

Chuck walks off as the other guy in the padded suit takes his place. They both watch silently, canting their head to the side with a wide-eyed expression.

After a cut, Stygian and Chuck sit on the ring apron. Chuck sips a mojito, Stygian is gulping a chilled Glacier Ice Gatorade. Stygian’s back in the shorts he walked up the beach in, and little else.

Chuck Finley: So even though the guy was in a padded suit and you weren’t hurting him…

Stygian: Watching me beat up guys gets her hot.

Chuck Finley: I saw that. Look man, I’m proud of you. You learned that Randy Savage elbow drop in one day. Not easy to do.

Stygian: I still don’t think I’m going to light up the cruiserweight division anytime soon.

Chuck Finley: You don’t need to. These aerial moves; think of them like an under-slung grenade launcher on an assault rifle. Most of the time you’re gonna get kills with bullets, but that grenade launcher keeps them honest. It keeps them guessing. Whenever you slam someone down on the mat, they know you can jump on them and make an impact.

Lilith, apparently still naked, but it’s hard to tell because she’s prone, crowsl to the edge of the ring, still short of breath.

Lilith: I’ll vouch for that.

Chuck Finley: You want this now?

Chuck holds up a bottle of grap Gatorade, she nods an Chuck gives it to her.

Chuck Finley: How you doin’?

Lilith: I’m no longer colorblind…

Chuck cants his head to the side and then sips his mojito before sighing.

Chuck Finley: Jase, the next big stretch of your career is coming. It’s coming soon. I think this is all lining up for you. This loss to Robbie Hart, you coming to me like this, this is all starting towards something big. First there was the way you retired Corey Casey, then there’s this match coming up with Anna Stone. After that, you know the time’s going to come for you to reclaim the rightful IWF title. Then, I don’t know? You’re the biggest whale in the business.

Stygian: Hey, I’m in fantastic shape.

Lilith: Weakly between swigging Gatorade like a baby clutching a bottle. I’ll vouch for that.

Chuck Finley: No. I mean you’re like Moby Dick. Anytime someone has a chance to get a match with you, they jump at it. Have you stopped to think there’s a reason Dam Alexander, James Shark and Cody Taylor make sure to mention you on twitter every so often? It’s the same reason Alex Remington sends you YouTube links of his promos. It’s the reason Anna Stone challenged you instead of competing for a World Title. It’s the reason Robbie Hart challenged you. It’s the reason that if you left IWF tomorrow there’s an alphabet soup of companies that would take you in a heartbeat…at this point in time, right now, you’re one of the handful of people in this business who could make someone’s career. One match with you, they don’t even have to win it, but one good match against you, even if they lose, can vault a career into the stratosphere. Just to have your name on a poster next to “Stygian” means something in this business. You’re in the club. You’re at the round table. You’re in the Justice League, brother. You’re Superman. And if you could beat Superman…

Chuck lets that hang in the air and sips his mojito until his phone beeps.

Chuck Finley: That’s the wife, I’ve got to head out.

Stygian: See you, Chuck.

Chuck Finley: Hey, before I go…that thing you did to her before I left…would you recommend that with my knees?

Stygian: Yeah. It actually puts more shock on the hips. Your knees will be fine.

Lilith: Just be sure you support her neck, it can go very, very wrong.

Chuck Finley: I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Jason. Tina, see you guys later…probably on the internet…

Chuck sighs. Stygian finishes his Gatorade and drops the empty bottle. He catches his breath and slides off the apron. He pulls up the legs of his shorts and looks at his knees.

Stygian: Wow, I have mat burns on my knees.

Lilith: You don’t want to know where I have them.

Stygian: Sorry.

Lilith: Worth it!

Stygian lets his shorts fall and steps off the mats, walking over to the edge of the pavilion. It’s closer to sunset now. Stygian watches as the sun vanishes behind the Orlando skyline and leans against the post.

Stygian: The rebuilding effort continues. New wrinkles, new facets. Because even though I am where I want to be ideologically, I am not there physically. This business moves fast, and the evolutionary curve is steep. On second a guy’s the biggest joke in the company, the next, he’s the world heavyweight champion. The only thing that doesn’t change? The one man everyone wants to face, the one man everyone wants to test themselves against? Me. Seriously, should I even bother to keep designing ring attire at this point, or should I just come down to the ring in a blue suit with a red cape? Because that seems to be how the wrestling world sees me. It doesn’t matter if I’m the champ, if I’m not the champ. It doesn’t matter if I’m in your company or even on your continent, you want to get in the ring with me. Chuck nailed it. He fucking nailed it. I’m every big trophy ever rolled into one seven foot, 315 pound package. I’m King Kong, I’m Moby Dick, I’m Smaug…I am Superman. When the time comes to see if you really rate in this business, you don’t go to Gotham City, you don’t go to Coast City, you come to Metropolis. Yeah, maybe you can whoop Aquaman’s ass, maybe you’ve outfoxed Batman, outlasted Green Lantern, and maybe you’ve even managed to pat Wonder Woman on the ass and live to tell about it. But when the time comes to really prove your mettle? You aren’t going to WEW and calling out Chance Rugani. You aren’t going to UCWA to take your shot at Dan Alexander, you damn sure aren’t going to ASWF to line up against James Shark…you aren’t even going to UECW to get in the ring with Alexander Remington…which is the real reason he wants to put me out.

Stygian: There is only one man who can wear the S. There is one man who stands on top of Mount Olympus throwing fireballs and laser fire onto the people below. When you go to a man’s house and he wants to show off, does he have a row of Halibut mounted on little plaques, or does he have a thousand pound marlin! Nobody ever wears a conference championship ring with pride, they wear a Superbowl ring. And you can’t get a Superbowl from Dan Alexander, he used it to lure a teen pop star into his van. You can’t get a Superbowl ring from James Shark, because if he’d have had anything like that, he’d have sold it the third or fourth time he when he went broke. You can’t get a Superbowl ring from Chance Rugani…he’s from Buffalo. And you cen’t even get one from Alexander Remington; because in his mind his career is hollow and empty without a win over me. You can only get that satisfaction from beating the best. At the end of the day, what’s the only thing anyone remembers about Doomsday? Once. Killed. Superman. That’s it. End of story. End of resume. Doesn’t matter that Superman’s beaten him. Doesn’t matter that the Justice League has taken him down. It doesn’t even matter that Darkseid and Imperiex both BITCHSLAPPED him. He beat Superman once, and that’s all he needs for people to know he’s a badass.

Stygian: Whether you like it or not Chad Mason, that’s the truth. When you look in your mirror, that’s what you know you are not. Anna Stone passed you up for a shot at Superman. You’ve made this whole big stink about nobody respecting you. That’s why you put together a pack of wild dogs and put together this scheme to win the IWF Title. You thought respect would come with it. And while I agree that you should be afforded more than has been given to you…you’ll never get the respect and admiration you crave. You could win fifty matches. You could win a hundred. You could hold that title for so long they name it after you. None of it will matter. You will never get the respect you want, because until you beat me? Nobody will take you seriously. Your successes could ultimately outweigh the miserable failure that your career has been ‘til now. Because you think you should be credited amongst the best in the world.

Stygian: This match is full of so many people trying to change their stars. Robbie wants to prove that this time he’s ready for the big stage. Anna wants to prove that she deserves the praise she’s gotten. She wants to prove that what she’s done isn’t a flue, it’s a trend. And Chad wants to prove that the first 30 matches of his career were some kind of warm up. The only constant? Big blue. The Man of Steel. All of you have your fates connected to me. Robbie beat me, and earned his way to the big time. Anna wants to beat me and do the same. And Chad Mason? Chad Mason has to look across the ring with that belt on his shoulder impotently, as he did at Battle Grounds, as he will at From the Ashes, and watch as the accolades he feels should be his are given to me. Robbie wanted to beat me to gain respect, and he did. Anna wants to beat me to test herself, and she will get her chance. But Chad Mason? Chad wants to be me. And he never can. There’s only one Superman, Chad. You’ve done a pretty good Bizarro, but at the end of the day? It’s just not enough is it. Nobody wants to be Bizarro, not even you. But you will never be Superman.

About that time, Lilith slips under Stygian’s arm. She’s gotten her runnin shorts and her Donatello bra back on as she wraps her arms around Stygian’s waist.

Stygian: How come it was just you?

Lilith: Are you complaining?

Stygian: Not specifically. I only saw Lilah a moment, she flew by.

Lilith: Yeah. She said something about trying to teach Rosalie to rollerblade.

Stygian: Curiouser and curiouser.

Lilith: Indeed.

Stygian: Well, let’s get out of here.

Lilith: I need something for my mat burns.

Stygian: More of the same?

Lilith and Stygian look back to the ring, and she laughs.

Lilith: Only if I’m on top.

Stygian: You’re going to get more burns.

Lilith: This way I get a whole set.

She wanders off camera and then tosses her bra to Stygian. Stygian stalks off-screen as the camera fades out.

Chad Mason: "Three months ago, I did something nobody ever thought possible, especially from me.

I stormed into IWF, and I turned everything upside down.

I took your precious world champion, and I made him look like a joke.

I took your veteran players, and I made them look like rookies.

I led an army into battle, and I walked out with...absolutely nothing to show for it.

One month later, I had my badge of honor. I had my prize. At Ragnarok, I fought Steel Angel, and I took the IWF Championship for myself.

As I suspected, my rise has been met with heavy resistance, and I don't really expect it to end anytime soon. I have done things in the last few months that others can't do in their entire careers. I won the world championship. I defeated legends, and sent them packing. My greatest achievement to date, though, happened just two weeks ago. Maybe you weren't aware. Maybe you missed it...but I accomplished something that, to this day, only two other men have been able to do.

I defended the IWF Championship.

Ten world champions. Ten men have held the IWF Championship. Three have managed to successfully defend it. Shark managed it twice. Brandon defended it three times across two different reigns...and as of two weeks ago, I became the third man. Robbie Hart held the belt for all of two minutes. Vincent Van Rose failed. Dan Alexander failed. Corey Casey failed twice. Steel Angel failed...and Stygian failed.

And yet...here we are, and despite doing the near-impossible, there are those in IWF who will think me a joke. There are people here who are STILL waiting for me to lose this title so they can tell me the entire reign was a fluke. If there's anything Heroes Also Die taught us, though...

Chad Mason is a champion.

It was interesting, really. I wondered as I walked out of the arena on that Sunday night, what would the next excuse be? First it was luck. When I kept winning matches, you attributed it to a hot streak. When my plans, carefully constructed and carried out, continued to work? You told me I couldn't win without the aid of Natural Law. Heroes Also Die, I did exactly that. Every excuse you throw at me, every explanation you try to come up with to figure out why I've been winning, I've thrown it right back in your faces. Eventually, you will be forced to accept the solution I've given you since day one: I'm simply better than the rest of you.

The excuse of the month now, though? I've only beaten Steel Angel. And so it's true. For the past couple months, I've fought Crimson Skull twice, Steel Angel three times, and Ryan Apollos. Now, Steel is out of my hair, and I can look towards the biggest event of the year...and Robbie Hart.

I could go on and on about Robbie, telling him all the reasons I'll be walking out of From the Ashes with the IWF Championship still wrapped around my waist...but that's a conversation for another time. WHat I will say to you, Robbie, is this:

I won this title by forming a plan. I retained this title by forming a plan. I've outsmarted Steel Angel twice, and most recently, I've done the same to Ryan Apollos. What makes you any different? Why do you, of all people, think you'll be the man to counter my master plans? Or are you too stupid to realize my plan has already been put in place?

I won't say I expected Anna to turn down a match against me, because I didn't. On the flip side of that coin, though...it doesn't surprise me in the slightest. It goes back to what I said before...I have no respect. I've spent the last few months working to erase the joke of a career I led before. I'm not stupid enough to think a title win and a quick defense could undo all that. No...I still have a ways to go. I suppose, Robbie, that makes you a stepping stone. You're another obstacle, another step on my way to erasing that abortion of my previous career, and establishing a new one as the top competitor IWF has to offer.

What, did you expect a different reaction? Did you expect me to feel angry? Cheated out of a main event spot? There are more important things. Look at it from where I stand. I spent the better part of my career making everyone and their dog look good. I got my ass kicked. I lost matches...all the while, knowing in my head that I could take that top spot at any time. But when the time finally came? People already had their predispositions. People had their favorites to win matches, and the fact of the matter was, I was at the bottom of that list. I would have been crazier to think I WOULD be main eventing the biggest event of the year...regardless of what accolades I had by that time.

I think this will be better, really. You see, because two things will happen at From the Ashes.

Chad Mason will retain his IWF Championship against the man that beat Stygian in record time.

Stygian will crush Anna Stone in a match that will forever taint the prestige of the FTA main event spot.

Maybe I'll eat those words. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that while Anna may or may not go on to regret her decision...it only benefits me. Anna Stone or Robbie Hart. It never mattered which one I took on at From the Ashes. The result would remain the same: Chad Mason walking out with the IWF Championship.

And yet, even after beating either of them, my work is never done. There will always be another challenger. There will always be the doubters. Hell, Steel Angel was one of the biggest doubters of all. He couldn't accept the fact that he had lost to Chad Mason, so I had to go and beat his dumb ass twice more just to drill the point into his head:

I am better than Steel Angel.

Tell me, Robbie...can I expect the same from you? What happens when I beat you on the greatest stage in IWF? Will you accept defeat, and let a new face step up to try their hand against me? Of course you won't, you're Robbie Hart. A loss to me will drive you insane, and you'll find a way to challenge me again...and again...until the point is driven home. You can't beat me. You won't beat me.

This week, however...it's a tag match. A man who, if he's proven one thing in the last few months, is the top tactician in IWF. Teaming up with...a girl who somehow won the Path to Valhalla match.

You don't trust me, Anna? You don't think I'll get the job done? Sorry, I forgot that I've been on a winning streak right up until last week. Where have you been?

Oh, right...you've been sitting around, not on the show. Maybe I should forgive you for your ignorance. You'll tell me that I'm the only success in Natural Law...and yet, it's Natural Law that is feared in IWF. Not me. Which means...somehow I've managed to take a bunch of no-name, talentless hacks and turn them into the most powerful force in IWF.

And I'm a failure? Really? Let's face the facts here, Anna. You'll fight Stygian because you expect a win over him will do more for your career. And I agree, it will. But I think there's another reason here. I think there's more to this than you'll lead us to believe.

What if you lose?

You know, possibly more than anyone else, that you had two options going into FTA. Fight Stygian, the man you claim is the most impressive in IWF at this point...or fight me, and take a shot at the IWF Championship.

We know what would happen if you won...but look at the more likely scenario. Fact of the matter is, Anna, I don't think you'll beat Stygian, and I know you wouldn't have beaten me. This is not a question of which win would mean more...this goes back to what I've been beating Steel over the head with for the past few weeks:

Losing to Chad Mason is the greatest dishonor in IWF.

It's a really shitty position IWF finds itself in. They claim from now until the end of time that I'm a failure, and that losing to me is a huge dent in your career, that it takes away tons of credibility. Hell, that was a running joke among you people. 'Sure, he's talented...but he lost to Chad Mason. He can't be THAT good.'

And yet, now I'm here as your IWF Champion...but that feeling of career suicide in losing to me still remains. What's ironic is that I'm steamrolling your roster. Every week, a new face is added to that list of wrestlers who lost to Chad Mason. Eventually, there will be nobody left.

But it's that dishonor...it's that loss of prestige, of credibility, that led Anna to challenge Stygian. If she loses to Stygian, who the fuck cares? He'll tell you any chance he gets all the people he's managed to beat. But me? What does losing to me mean, Anna? Say what you will, but there is one thing that even your underdeveloped mind can't deny:

I've won and defended the IWF Championship.

You want to tell me that's luck? You want to tell me that's a hot streak? You dumb bitch, that's something that, as I mentioned before, only two other men have been able to do. That's something I accomplished through my own effort, and my own planning.

And you would have been the one to stop that? You're as delusional as Robbie. You're as stubbornly stupid as Steel. Nobody will ever take this title from me, because there's nobody in IWF that can foil my master plans.

Deny it all you like, Anna. THAT's why you challenged Styg. You knew damn well you couldn't have beaten me. You knew damn well you couldn't beat Styg. You chose a man who could beat you without destroying your career.

It eats you up inside, Anna. You hate the fact that I could beat you. You know I could beat you...and you'll deny it every second you can until you finally face me. You'll tell the world I'm nothing, that I can't get the job done.

You don't trust me, Anna? You don't think I've made an impact? You don't think I have the talent or the drive to win?

Well...far be it from me to drag someone of your status down in an important match like this. Good luck, sweetheart.

You're on your own."