Alexander Remington [vs.] Alexander Raven

Prologue

[In his first match since the closing of UECW's doors, Alexander Remington did not fail to impress those who may have been skeptical that his success only came from perhaps fighting inferior competition all these years. Beating Silas Romero would not prove that his time in IWF would be undoubtedly successful, but it certainly silenced many of his critics. It certainly validated all of the hype leading up to his eventual arrival to an IWF ring. He showed that he could dispel the prototypical stereotype of a man with his means needing others to do his dirty work for him, ending all of that speculation from the uneducated masses by not only defeating Silas Romero, but beating him in an absolute brawl - something that many beforehand would have considered to be in Romero's advantage.]

[Having given just a glimpse of what he was capable of within the perimeters of an IWF ring, it seemed as though everything was going his way. His unusual alliance with Corey Casey appeared to have begun reaping its own unique benefits, as Corey Casey proudly inserted Alexander into the before non-existent 'seventh slot' for the main event at Fallout. Two matches in, and Remington had already secured himself an opportunity at taking hold of all the power in IWF and with this proverbial crown, he intended to use it to bring everyone into submission to their king.]

[However, those plans would quickly change.]

[He thought he had rid his life of one, Alexander Raven. He presumed that with the closing of UECW's doors, this chapter between he and Raven too had concluded. But apparently, Alexander Raven had other plans. For many months, these one-time partners had become bitter enemies. Remington had once taken Raven under his wing, wanting nothing more than to build him up to be the next great star in UECW; but rather, he chose to give heed to the words of his father. On an infamous night where Alexander Remington was set to defend his UECW championship against Allison Cooper, Alexander Raven stabbed his 'friend' in the back, spiking Remington's own barbed-wire bat into the back of his skull, costing him the victory, and nearly his career.]

[Remington was told he would never wrestle again. His mind - what he considered to be his most valuable asset - had turned into mush, and it seemed as though he was retired. But through various resources - namely the means of Eric Telfor; a devious bastard in his own right - Alexander Remington conquered the odds and made his return. He crucified Raven's father, lowering him down to the stage on a wooden cross which eventually burst into flames, ridding Raven from the one man that influenced his decision months prior. He defeated Raven in his first match back, but Raven wouldn't finish there. He forced UECW's hand, getting a second match against Remington within the confines of a cage, and in this match, Raven was able to walk out successfully. The two were at a stalemate.]

[A third match was in the books prior to the close of UECW's doors, and this is why your Black Dragon - or 'Star Destroyer' if you choose to follow his more recent descriptions - was borrowed temporarily. By various forms of trickery, Alexander was able to borrow Stygian's talents to represent him in a match against 'the Manimal', and by winning, Alexander had the ability to choose the stipulation of said match. But you know the rest of the story. UECW closed its doors, and it appeared as though Remington's plans had gone awry...]

[Except for one problem...Remington's plans never go awry...]

[Of course, he never could have seen Alexander Raven's attack coming. Not a chance. But Stygian's part in all of this was all for a different purpose. UECW's closure was never a surprise to our hero - or villain, if you choose to look at Remington from the incorrect perspective. But that part of the tale would have to be told at a different time. This week was something much more personal than a couple of guys' egos in the balance. This week was about something much more than two men trying to prove who the best wrestler was at the end of the day. This was about a personal hatred that had boiled over into something that resembled anarchy more than rivalry.]

[This was war in the purest sense of the word.]
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Scene One:
All Good Things
Off Camera



New Orleans, my home away from home. Everything I was; everything I had ever been, I owed to this great place. I was the age of three when my parents died - a horrible accident off the coast of Curacao. I was taken in by a man named Mark Mayer and a woman in Dana Paulson, and here is where I would begin my learning of the business and art of professional wrestling. Known by Powerhouse and Diamond Dazzler respectively, they never once tried to personally teach me the business, but I learned from observation. I wasn't self-taught, mind you - it was just their passion and their drive that led me to want to not necessarily follow in their footsteps, but pave my own path for eventual success in this industry.

I always loved this business, but the business didn't always love me. I was told countless times that I wasn't good enough and that I'd never make it. I didn't have the bodybuilder physique, they told me. I didn't have the character or the charm, they explained. So I left my dreams eventually, realizing that I had to make it somehow in this world; I had to pay the bills after all. So I joined the military, and for now, that is all part of a story that you, the reader, needn't be educated on. Too many hurtful memories and too little time.

When Mayer and Paulson died, they left everything to me. The money wasn't important to me; I had already made my living and I was set for life. I donated most of their assets to charity, but the one thing I could not part with was this house; the place that I grew up as a child. Too many memories in this place for me to part with, so I kept it, using it as a place of refuge when on the road or a place to escape all of the issues that would arise in my life. But this week, it would once again be my home away from home.

"Babe, are you ready to go," I called out as I walked through the front door of the house, looking around, but I could not find her. I searched the living room and the kitchen; knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, but she was nowhere to be found. I furrowed my eyebrows as I ascended the staircase. "Jaci, are you there?"

She and I had made plans to eat at one of my favorite seafood restaurants growing up before visiting the French Quarter. Admittedly, we had fallen on hard times of late in our relationship. I was always on the road; she was always busy doing her own thing ever since she had retired. Communication had broken down, but I was trying desperately to mend whatever fences had been broken. She was my heart; she was my soul. I waited for nearly a year and a half for her, knowing that one day, fate would finally smile down upon me. A hard thing to believe in my fucked up existence, but I had hoped that something better would come eventually. She was that 'something better.' I loved her.

"Babe?"...

I slowly opened the door to the master bedroom, thinking that perhaps she had opted for a nap before our night out. But as I opened the door, again, she was nowhere to be found. I was concerned. I slowly slid my hand inside my front coat pocket, pulling out my cell phone and clicking a few buttons downward through the various contacts in my phone until I reached the 'J's, holding the phone to my ear as I waited for her to answer. I smiled as I heard her voice.

"Hello, this is Jaci..."

My eyebrows raised as I heard her voice, so happy that she picked up. I was worried that she was ignoring me - perhaps even upset at me for some reason - although our conversation from the previous night wouldn't indicate anything like that. We had a nice dinner together - talked about my career and her various business ventures. At times it seemed eerily quiet, and at other times it appeared like the conversation was forced a bit, but I supposed that it was normal considering we had just spent quite some time apart. In fact, I hadn't seen her but once or twice since my return to UECW months ago. It was naturally going to be a bit awkward...right?

"Babe, I'm so glad to hear from you...where are you? I was worried about..."

"I'm sorry that I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and..."

Damn.

I hadn't a clue what had happened to her or where she had gone, walking further into the room as I noticed that none of her things that were there the night before still remained in their place. I sat on the edge of the bed as my mind raced through all that had been said the previous night, wondering if she had told me where she would be, but nothing stood out as a clue or a hint or anything that would give me any idea of where she might have gone off to. I closed my eyes, breathing in a deep sigh. Opening them back up again, I looked ahead of me at the dresser drawer in the corner of the room. There I saw a note attached to the mirror resting on the top - the name Alex written on top of the folded up letter. Rising to my feet, I walked over to the drawer and unattached the note from the mirror, unfolding it and beginning to read the message inside.

Alex, I know that it probably would be best to be here in person and say this to you personally, but I never could bring myself to doing so. I tried last night, but it hurt too much to try. I care about you as a person; I always have, and I always will. We've made so many special memories together that I'll never forget as long as I live. I remember that one birthday of mine where you took me out - simply as a friend - and you flew one of my favorite bands all the way out to the city we were in just to sing me happy birthday. I remember our late night talks and even the times where we would just sit in one of our locker rooms and say nothing at all because just being together was all that we needed on those nights. That time you took care of me when I was sick and you acted as though it were a scene from the Exorcist. You always knew how to put a smile on my face, and I'll never forget that.

I, of course, had never forgotten any of these memories as well. I never thought I could love another after my wife was killed by a few men that didn't like me so much in my previous occupation, but then she came along. At first, I thought she was just another bitch with an attitude problem - she wanted nothing to do with me and I just wanted her to get the hell away from me so that I could move on with my business. But she got to me. At first it was like the thorn of a rose stabbing into my side, but eventually, I couldn't get her out of my mind. Her beauty was unmatched; her charm, inspiring. I would do anything for Jaci, but I felt of late that I had failed her. I had failed her as her boyfriend; I had failed her as her friend. I knew that we had problems, but I believed that somehow, we could fix anything that befell upon us. I continued to read the letter.

Lately though, it seems as though you are so distant. You never want to talk; you're never around when I need you to be. I know it was a difficult time for you, but when you were forced into retirement because of what Raven did to you, I thought that this would be something that could have lasted forever. You were always around; you were the Alex of old that didn't care about what was happening in his professional life - everything you did was to make me happy, and I was. I guess it was selfish of me to ever believe that it could have lasted forever, knowing who you are and how driven that you've become to accomplish everything you've set out before yourself, but for me, that was everything I could have ever asked for and more.

But then you changed...

I folded the note back in half, not sure if I even wanted to read the remainder of the note. I could see where this was going already - the fact that she was nowhere to be found combined with this note spoke volumes as to what I was about to read. It was painfully obvious, but I didn't want to admit any of this to be true. Even now, I believed myself to be in a nightmare. Dammit Alex, wake up...wake up Alex...no such luck. Still, I opened the note back up once again, reading the rest.

You didn't care about me anymore...you only cared about him. About them. Raven and Stygian, they were the only names that escaped your lips. It was an obsession; you'd wake up in the middle of the night talking about how you wanted to get back at Raven and overtake Stygian. I remember when I was your passion. I remember when you would rather be with me than have anything to do with this business, and there was a time when you made me feel that way. Those days, unfortunately, have ended it seems.

I'm worried about you Alex. You've made these wars your passion, and I'm afraid that you are only going to do yourself harm if you continue on this path you're taking. It's all you care about anymore. I wish that weren't the case. I wish that we could escape our past in the wrestling business and be together, but I realize now that though we had many fun moments together, as difficult as it is for me to say this...

A single wet spot smudged some of the ink at this point in the note as I could tell that she had been crying. I closed my eyes again, not wanting to read what had been the writing on the wall for quite some time. I began to choke up a bit myself, knowing for a while that all of this was inevitable, but never wanting to accept it as the truth.

We just never were meant to be...Goodbye Alex. You'll always hold a special place in my heart.

Jaci

I folded the note in half once more, holding it in my hands for what seemed like an eternity. I knew that this was inevitable, but I never wanted to admit to myself that it was the case. I tried to hold back the tears, but I failed in doing so. I stood slowly to my feet, walking back over to the dresser drawer as I stared at myself in the mirror - I looked like a mess. Slowly I began to crumple the letter into a compact wad, tossing it into the wastepaper basket beside the dresser. I placed my hands atop the dresser, leaning over as I tried to compose myself, but all of my frustration and all of my hurt piled up within me in a single moment, causing my hands to shake as all of my emotions began to get the better of me. I tried to turn to walk back to the bed, but as though my knees were giving out on me, I fell to the floor before my bed; tears streaming down my face - thankfully a moment that would never be seen on camera, or my career would be ruined as well. I questioned what I possibly could have done to make things right; to change all of this. I thought about calling her again and again, trying to tell her that things would be different, but I couldn't gather the strength. I curled into a ball before my bed, trying to compose myself, but it proved to be an impossibility. I wanted nothing but Jaci back in my life, and she was gone. For good this time.

"Alexander Remington lying in the fetal position? A sight I never thought I would behold in all my years. Well, not unless I got to him first, mind you."

I remained in the position with my face toward the floor, but it was a voice I recognized interrupting the stillness of my situation. It was a voice I hadn't imagine I'd hear ever again, or at the very least, not any time in the present or near future. Trying to avoid him from seeing the entirety of this display, I carefully slipped a hand to my face, wiping away the wetness from my eyes as I glared up at the man standing in my doorway with surprise.

"Telfor? What in the hell are you doing in my house?"



He cracked a smug smile as he stood there in his thousand dollar suit, peering at me above his dark sunglasses which covered his eyes. He shook his head as he motioned for me to stand, finally obliging as I stared at him, wondering what this possibly could be all about.

"Why cashing in on my favor, of course. For God's sakes, clean yourself up - you look like a mess. We'll talk downstairs."

I nodded my head as he turned to walk away, hearing his footsteps as he walked down the staircase leading to the living room. I turned back toward the mirror in the corner of the room, fixing my attire and trying to wipe away any resemblance of weakness that was shown on my face, knowing quite well that this meeting with Eric Telfor would not be fun in the least and only for the purposes of his own good. I turned to walk out of the room but I stopped, glancing down at the wad of paper crumpled up in the wastepaper basket, shaking my head slowly with regret. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small black box, opening it up to look at a beautiful diamond ring, closing my eyes as I thought of her beautiful face one last time before tossing it also in the basket, walking out of the master bedroom and leaving it all behind me.



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Scene Two
Must Come to an End
On Camera



Mother's. To a local New Orleanian, this is all that would be needed to be said to paint the perfect picture. Small little place on the corner of Poydras and Tchoupitoulas, it was a dining experience unlike any other. Many not native to the area would likely first turn their nose up at such a display of 'po-boy' excellence, but not me. Not after all I had been through over the last few days, a little bit of comfort food was just what I needed to satisfy me. I had already ordered the Ferdi special - a unique sandwich filled with ham, roast beef, debris and gravy - and was sitting down to eat it as a crowd began to swarm me. Privacy - an unknown commodity to individuals like myself, it seemed. Normally I would scoff at the notion of even acknowledging the people around me, but as I said before, this was my home away from home and these were my people. This was one town of just a handful that would actually stand on their feet and worship me while booing Stygian out of the building. So I didn't show any form of rejection as they crowded around me. Besides, I wouldn't admit it to any of them, but I needed the interaction.

"Hey Alex," one man spoke up as I was signing a few autographs in between bites of my delicious po-boy. "You know we love you and all, but what gives with you becoming all corporate? Why are you suddenly running away from Stygian? Are you scared or something?"

My own people, turning against me. I scowled as I put down the handful of sandwich I had left, tired of answering questions anyway. At least those before him had asked simple things like 'When are you going to become the IWF champion,' or a few ladies with their usual 'Are you single' questions, to which I only replied 'It's complicated,' even though it obviously was not complicated and quite clear. I didn't want to be bothered with actually admitting that anyone dumped me, and besides, I wasn't ready to jump into another relationship, or another fling, or whatever it is these women wanted with me. Probably my money, but nevertheless, I wasn't interested. But this guy, he hit me right where it stung the most. He hit the sore spot. He probably was an Atlanta Falcons fan secretly. Fucking dirty birds.

I glared over at him with a cold hard stare as I could see him beginning to back away, probably regretting that he ever asked me that question. I don't know why he was afraid; it wasn't like I could assault him here in front of all these people, but I guess he was picturing his bones being bent in all different directions so that even the doctors that worked on him couldn't figure out that jigsaw puzzle, but he had nothing to worry about. I could understand the criticism, but it was unfounded in its logic. I shook my head, beginning to talk directly to the man at first, well aware that several cameras had begun to record what I had to say.

"I'm no more afraid of Stygian than you are of cholesterol," I quickly retort, picking up my last handful and finishing it off, letting him stand there like the fat slob that he was and wait for the remainder of my response. "But from talking with Corey Casey and Isabella, I've recognized and agree that he really isn't worth my time..."

I finally stood to my feet, walking outside of Mother's as some of the crowd and the camera crew followed me down Poydras, walking the sidewalks that I had grown so familiar with over the years, watching as the horse-drawn carriages walked up and down the streets as some of the New Orleanians stood on their second story balconies overlooking the streets as though they were watching a Mardi Gras parade.

"Scared, frightened, hypocrite, liar - all words that have been thrown in my direction since Battle Grounds. They've called me 'corporate' and they've called me a sellout and they think that because I've chosen a different path in my time with IWF, suddenly I am a coward. Scared of Stygian because I don't want to take part in yet another barbaric display of egotism. I don't feel like getting my hands dirty with him. I gave him plenty of chances to fight me, and he turned them all down. I gave him opportunity after opportunity to come back to UECW for one night only and fight me, and conveniently, he'd be in Japan or fighting for you in this very company. I would have even been willing to reword my contract for UECW to fight him in an IWF ring a while back, but with each and every attempt, he would find another loophole to weasel his way out of that confrontation that he now so desperately desires."

I rolled my eyes, walking through a crosswalk to the other side of the street. Glancing behind my shoulder, I noticed the similar throng of fans and media personnel that had followed me from Mother's, trying desperately to pay them no mind as I only focused on the one camera in front of me. They would only serve as a distraction. They would only want their fifteen seconds of fame as they would try to maneuver their way into the shot of the camera so that they could tell their buddies that they made it on live TV. And they'd be so proud too. They'd feel as though they conquered the world. If they wanted to make a fool and a mockery of themselves, who was I to stop them, but I wouldn't pleasure them with my own attention.

"I don't fear Stygian; I pity him. I pity him because he now is a man that is desperate for a fight because he realizes that without it, he has nothing to cling to. He may have beaten Brandon McDonald, he may have beaten Shark, he may have slaughtered Corey Bull and Kevin Kayfabe and Corey Casey even, but in the back of his mind, it lingers - he never beat me. And he never will. And if he retired today, he would go down as one of the greats in our sport, but not the greatest. No, the question will still remain - is Stygian better than Alexander Remington, and it will never go fulfilled. Isabella was perfectly right when she said to me that it wasn't worth my time or trouble. So what if he gets his hands on the IWF championship at Fallout? He'll lose it eventually. I'm not defined by a golden plate attached to a leather strap and I never will be. Besides, I used my cunning intellect to get Stygian himself to represent me in a match over in UECW - if I wanted that championship, don't you think I could use that same intellect to force him to surrender the championship to me without ever laying a finger on the man?"

I knew how the world would perceive all of this, but I didn't care. I knew that they would continue telling me that I was scared of Stygian. They would continue to tell me that I was running away and hiding from him. They would continue to drink his Kool-aid and tell their friends and loved ones that I could only call him out from another company, and now that I was part of IWF, I was conveniently moving on to other professional career paths. I was done worrying about what a bunch of couch potato wrestlers thought about the paths that I was choosing for myself. Why should I, Alexander Remington, care about what a fat out of shape asshole thought of me - one of the more decorated wrestlers of our time? I was done worrying about what the IWC had to say about me - what the message boards proclaimed to be my weaknesses. What the blogs had to say about my supposed insecurities. What did they know? How to ask the masses if they'd like fries with their order?

"Stygian, you just don't get it, do you? I'm not here to satisfy your desires. I'm not here to make you happy. I'm not here in some show of respect where the two Goliaths of our sport collide and make those people happy. I don't care about those people. Those people can rot in hell for all I care. Where were those people when I was in a hospital room wondering if my mind could ever be repaired again? Where were those people when I thought I had to hang up my boots for good and would never see the inside of a wrestling ring again? Nowhere to be found. And now, they think that I'm going to cater to their every whim? And so you threaten me with violence on Twitter, and you act as though I'm not already multiple steps ahead of you, because frankly, everyone else that you've come against lacked the intellect to be able to outsmart you in every single facet of your life. Everyone else has purely relied on their raw strength and power and physical attributes to try to come against you, and they've all failed, admittedly. And while I am well-versed in the squared circle and while I can hold my own physically against any man in the ring - including you, by the way - it is in the psychological game where you will find I'm quite different than any of the aforementioned men that you've slain. I've always been the Master Manipulator from day one. I've always been the one pulling the strings. And the same man that actually got you to bend to my will and represent him in a match in UECW is the same exact man that will clip the wings of the Dragon and ground him from ever flying again."

But corporate? Was I supposed to actually take offense to that word? I was a man that always prided myself in my business acumen. Before my life in the wrestling business, I had notably run several successful business ventures, but my father's work was always an itch that I needed to scratch; a lifelong dream that I wanted desperately to one day fulfill. I shook my head as I continued down the street, passing many familiar sites as I continued to speak to any who would listen.

"Question my alliances all you want, but all I've ever done is what is best for Alexander Remington and his career. Corey Casey has been nothing but a professional toward me, and Isabella has been much of the same. UECW, it seemed all I could do is get in a fight with upper management. From Mike Nelson to Chelle Fury; from Brooklyn Nelson to Clay Krueger, it seemed as though they all had their own personal vendettas against me, and instead of focusing on my career and what was really important in this business, I had to fight a fucking holy war against men and women that thought that they'd play a game of chicken with my career. Corey Casey, he never sought animosity toward me; he came to me as a true professional would, and we struck a deal. A series of deals actually. Some have been seen; others yet to be seen, but nevertheless, he listened. He advised. He understood. He gave me an opportunity, and I'm running with it. I have no shame for what I've done, nor for what I am going to do. We both knew that UECW was a sinking ship and he gave me a home. And eventually, it will become my own personal kingdom."

Finally I stopped. Many of the crowd that had begun to follow me had walked away, but some stragglers still remained. I smiled as I arched my back against one of the red brick buildings behind me, shrugging my shoulders as I again focused on the camera before me. I watched as a few passer-bys stopped and took a picture of me, surprised at just how many of these people actually knew who I was, considering wrestling, these days, was a social pariah in most circles.

"Last week, Silas Romero learned the hard way that physical confrontation can only take you so far against a man like me. Indeed, he presented a formidable challenge, but just like everyone else that's come seeking glory from me, I dispelled the notion that he belonged in the same ring with Alexander Remington. I'd love to pretend that this week was about two men testing their own battle of wills to see who was the better wrestler or the better talker or the man with the most heart, but this week isn't about any of that. It isn't about our egos; it isn't about our careers. I gave up my spot in the main event of Fallout not because of some perceived fear for Stygian, but because this trumps all of that. It trumps titles; it trumps legacies. Everything I've ever wanted out of my career means nothing compared to what is going to take place at Fallout."

My recognizable smile soon faded away into the form of a terrible scowl as Alexander Raven found his place on my mind. I could feel my blood pressure begin to rise; my heart began to beat at a much higher pace than before. I loathed everything about this man. I once considered him a business partner; hell, I even thought I could count him as a friend. I turned my back on Griffin Hawkins for this man, and he did nothing but stab me in the back.

"I gave you your chance, Raven, to be my successor. I offered you my mantle, but you could not handle it. I applauded you when you took me out of the wrestling business for that space of time, because I truly thought that you would be the man to take over for me in my stead. You had the 'it' factor; you had the look, the personality, but you were one hell of a talent in the ring. I couldn't fault you for attacking me like you did, because I know that in your position, I would have done the very same thing that you did. I would have seen an opportunity and I would have taken it. But you failed. Miserably. And so I returned to take back what was mine, and I did just that. From pillar to post, I beat the living hell out of you until you could take no more, and I took back my mantle and all of the glory that came along with it."

"But that wasn't enough for you, was it?"

I shook my head from side to side slowly, reminiscing on the last few months of my UECW career and how things had transpired before it closed its doors for the last time. Raven and I had been involved in quite the display of utter hatred for one another, captivating audiences worldwide since my return. I chuckled to myself as I imagined how confused Raven must have been with each cryptic message; how he accused several stars of being behind each display until it was revealed that I was, in fact, the man responsible. I'm sure he never thought he'd see my face again unless returning in some sort of managerial position. Never as a wrestler. Never as the man that was trying to do to him what he attempted months prior - end a career.

"No, you took one more shot at me and within the confines of a cage, you managed to weasel your way out of that cage and run away, but nevertheless, you secured victory. Congratulations kid, your one shining moment in your career. UECW closed its doors shortly thereafter, and you could have retired or made your way into another company proud of doing something that very few men before you had done. But then you had to go back to the hospital, and I'm sure you got one more look at your dear old daddy, and you saw as they continued to peel the burnt flesh off of his body as he screamed in agony, begging for relief from this endless torture that I put him through on that infamous night when I returned. You remember the look on his face as he descended from the rafters chained to that cross and you remember the horror you felt when that cross exploded into flames and the sound of your father as he shouted with pain, screaming for someone to save him from his torment."

I cracked a smile at the thought, quite proud of my handiwork. I clearly remembered Raven's face as he ran from behind the curtain to pull his father off the cross; the horror as he watched the various crews extinguish the flames and the paramedics working feverishly just to make sure that he didn't die on that fateful night. He looked like a pathetic child, watching as his mutt was taken out back to be shot. I saw his weaknesses; I understood that his father was the only form of stability in his life at the time, and in one moment, it was taken away from him. Removal by crucifixion.

"And you knew that until you put me out of business for good, you never would have your relief. You never would have your revenge. You claim that this isn't about revenge Raven, but we know the truth. I took the one constant in your life and destroyed it in one single night, and it eats away from you that you couldn't protect him. You couldn't save him. You caused it all to happen. You immediately regretted the night you tried to put me out of commission, because you understand now that it's you that put your father on that hospital bed and not me. It's you that has caused him endless nights of torture and agony. And so you seek your relief, and you show up last week on Battle Grounds and you cowardly attack me from behind as you've done time and time again and now because of your actions, you'll get exactly what you came to IWF for...you'll have your opportunity for revenge."

This was more than just a silly quarrel between two men that didn't like each other professionally. Truth was, I wouldn't piss on the man if he was on fire. I hated Alexander Raven, and I was sure that the feeling was quite mutual. I reached upward, adjusting my tie and straightening my suit jacket, mindful of appearances despite the rage that was burning from within. In this moment, I forgot all about the stupidity of the question that the fat man asked me a few minutes prior. I had put aside the thoughts of Jaci leaving me or even my meeting with Eric Telfor. All that I could think about was murder. All I could think about was torture. All I could think about was Alexander Raven begging me for my mercy.

"Blood, Pride, and Death - when Corey Casey explained the rules of this match, it was absolutely perfect. I was ready in UECW to bury you alive in a symbolic display of putting everything behind me and burying the past along with you, but I don't want to simply put you below six feet of dirt. I want to make you bleed, I plan on stealing every last ounce of your pride, and then and only then will I kill you and your pathetic display of a career. You always had promise, but you squandered it each and every time. You could have been the next big thing, but you proved yourself a failure each and every time. I've been told that for our own good, we need to put this behind us, and I couldn't agree more. After Fallout, it's over. You will be retired by my hand like so many that have come before you, and I will continue as though you never existed. You will be dead to me. You will be insignificant to everyone else. Your own father, if he ever recovers from his injuries, won't ever be able to look you in the eye again after you will have failed him once more. You've done the stupidest thing someone could ever do when coming against me - you've made this personal. Had this been just a matter of respect, you might have walked out of this thing in just a couple of pieces, but your career might have still be intact. But I no longer plan on simply notching another win on my impressive resume; I won't consider myself successful unless you leave and forever remain in a wheelchair for the rest of your days, sucking your food through a fucking tube as you are constantly reminded with each drop of processed liquefied nourishment against whom you made your worst mistake."

I had to force myself to control my breathing as I felt my heart practically beating out of my chest; the anger building and building until I felt like I was about to explode. I could only imagine about how I'd feel standing across from him in the ring at Fallout. I could only guess how I would feel before the sound of the bell reverberated throughout the arena. The anticipation that would build; how fast my heart would beat and my pulse would race before I could get my hands on that little fucking rat. Alexander Raven was a dead man - this much was sure - but the moments before our Armageddon; that would be the tricky part to overcome.

"I hate you. I hate everything about you. This wasn't about revenge to begin, but now, it's about pure unadulterated hatred. Disgust. I don't care about simply getting a victory against you - I've done that twice already so the simple thrill of a win doesn't move me or motivate me in the least. I opted out of my IWF championship match for only one purpose - to make you bleed; to make you suffer; to make you regret each and every action you've taken against me. You whine and cry about what I did to your dear father; just wait until I'm done with you at Fallout. At the end of the night, all those fans watching inside the Superdome aren't going to be talking about the disgust of their New Orleans Saints' season so far. They aren't even going to be talking about Jack Savage when he wins the IWF championship. The only thing that will be on their minds is how they are going to explain to their children the 'Santa Claus' version of why a river of blood was pouring out of your fucking skull."

Shrugging my shoulders, I began to wrap things up, tired of even giving Alexander Raven the time of day. I wanted to finish all of this and move on with my career. Move on with my life. Jaci was right - this 'thing' with Alexander Raven - it was killing me inside. I didn't care about anything else, especially now that she was apparently out of my life for good. It was all that I could think about - I couldn't sleep at night without dreaming of what I wanted to do to the man. I couldn't go on in this business even without seeing his face. Silas Romero last week - that stupid fucking imbecile's face was plastered all over Silas. I wanted him dead. I wanted to legally murder Alexander Raven in the middle of the ring. And if he gave me the chance, I would do just that.

"Of course, you could always admit your past failures. You could always walk away and not get into the ring with me at Fallout at all. Sure, you'll lose whatever shred of dignity you had left, but let's be honest - it'll all be taken away from you anyway in just a few nights. But at least you'll have your health. Walk away, and I won't seek you out to end this; I'll let you walk away with your tail tucked between your legs, knowing that you could never finish Alexander Remington. Walk away, and you won't be used as an example to anyone else that tries to make things personal with me. Walk away, and maybe you'll even have a chance one day to tell your grandchildren about how you at least had the opportunity to be looked on with favor by the greatest fucking wrestler that's ever stepped foot inside a wrestling ring. Because you had that favor once. You were respected and honored by me once. Walk away and save yourself the embarrassment that awaits you at Fallout. For your own good."

I gave him his last opportunity to spare himself what would take place in just a few days at Fallout. It was the least I could do; I wanted nothing more than to rip him limb from limb and turn him into a much-less intelligent form of Stephen Hawking, but at least I could give him a chance to spare himself the trouble. I had already done enough to his father for a lifetime; he didn't need to be strapped to an adjoining bed in the hospital for the rest of his days on this wretched planet. I could at least afford him that opportunity.

Saying what I needed to say, I turned and walked away, allowing those watching from the balconies and from the streets and from the sidewalks to go on their own merry ways. The cameras would soon be turned off as I faded into the distance, heading toward the French Quarter to enjoy some of the nightlife that had escaped me over the past few years. I missed this place. I missed the aroma in the air. I missed the taste of the cuisine. I missed the people. It was my home away from home, and may I never forget that.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!