Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian

Subject: Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian Thu Oct 25, 2012 1:15 am

Subject: Re: Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian Sat Oct 27, 2012 5:14 pm

Battle Grounds LV: Bad Company
After the main event.

This is why I try to stay out of other peoples wars. Because ultimately, in any war, you come to realize that there isn’t much difference between either side. You’re going to have blood on your hands, and you’re going to have to sink to questionable lows in spilling it. Chuck Matthews promised me this would be different. He promised it to me when we spoke before Violent Impulse, he promised it to me when we spoke after Violent Impulse, and when he broke out that shitty Five Finger Death Punch cover…he told me this time it was going to be different. I don’t know a whole lot about Bad Company, just that somewhere along the line in old NLWF Chuck and Corey got pissed off at Nick Ridicule and decided to run the promotion into the ground. Bad Company was the needle and the poison that killed NLWF via lethal injection. When Chuck recruited me for this, when he told me what he was calling it, I asked him point blank, “will this be different?” I didn’t want to be another pawn for a megalomaniac trying to clean up another company and run it his way. Chuck promised me we were on the right side of this one so I signed on.

Now I’m watching them beat the hell out of Jack Savage. You ever see Nightmare on Elm Street III: Dream Warriors? There’s this scene where this old nun tells about how Freddy Kreuger was conceived. It’s sort of told as an urban legend, set at the same asylum that the film takes place in. Back in the 40's, it was a psycho ward for the worst of the criminally insane. One hundred maniacs were kept there. Before leaving for the holidays, the guards did a count of the maniacs, left the ward and locked it down. Unbeknownst to them, one of the resident nuns was trapped with the maniacs over the holidays. Her name was Amanda Krueger. She was raped hundreds of times. She was later found barely alive... and with child. That child of course was Freddy Krueger... the bastard son of a hundred maniacs. That metaphor is double appropriate as I sit in the corner of the ring, watching Chuck’s faithful dogs tear apart Jack Savage, the way The Empire gave Robbie Hart his notice a week or so before that. I realize that this is very much the same kind of treatment Amanda Kreuger endured…and as I watch Chuck Matthews directing traffic; he could very well be the bastard son of a hundred maniacs himself.

By now the girls have handed me my belt, but I wave them off of getting in the ring. This is no place for Lilith and Lilah. I turn around with the title on my shoulder and there’s Chuck. In one hand is a steel chair, the other is empty. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. The intent is clear. He’ll hold the title while I take that chair and get a piece of Savage myself. For a split-second it’s tempting. For about three weeks running, Jack has been tuning me up with steel chairs and Halliburton briefcases…but I did just beat the man. I caught him off the top rope, Banebladed him and pinned him. Far as I’m concerned, we’re even for the time being. It won’t do any good to tell Chuck that. This thing is like the mafia. I’m either in or I’m out. Well, call me crazy, because I know this is gonna make my life difficult, but? I’m out. I shake my head and walk out of the ring, leaving Chuck standing there with a vexed look on his face. As Lilith and Lilah gather round behind and follow me, I hear Chuck scream something about regretting this.

Chuck’s wrong. I won’t regret this. A long time ago I made myself a promise. It was before I ever wrestled. It was when I took the oath and enlisted in the Air Force. I said I’d never do something that I couldn’t stand to look myself in the mirror after doing it; consequences be damned. If this had been a fair fight? Maybe I’d have joined in. If The Empire had come down armed to the teeth and we went at it like the Sharks and the Jets? Yeah. But this was an orchestrated mugging. It’s no different that what The Empire did to me two weeks ago on their way to Robbie, and it’s no different what they did to me last week before Chuck brought the cavalry. Chuck promised me it would be different. He promised me we were on the right side of this. At the end of the day, we’re no different. Bad Company is no different than The Empire. As far as I’m concerned they can kill one another. They can drown in the blood bath this is inevitably going to become, and wash it out with Corey and Chuck’s egos. Bottom line: I’m nobody’s pawn. I’m nobody’s weapon. I don’t take orders from Corey Casey and I damn sure don’t jump in a five-on-one beat down with a steel chair of a man who was already defenseless.

I slip past the security and off the side of the ramp, the girls in tow. Corey Casey’s security and Chuck Matthew’s security are squaring off as The Empire tries to reclaim their beaten man. I catch two sets of eyes looking at me over the fracas. One belongs to Alexander Remington. He doesn’t seem all that surprised. He shouldn’t. He knows me. He knows how I operate. Maybe I’ve been out of the service for six years, but I still believe in that code, the rules of engagement. But it’s the look from Corey Casey that makes me smirk. You see, I think Corey Casey has this image of me. I think he’s painted a picture of me in his head and I honestly think he thinks I’m the same reprehensible son of a bitch he makes me out to be. This, I can tell from the look on his face, challenges his perceptions.

I honestly regret that the Hellzone match ended his career. Yes I fought him, and yes I wanted that match. But there came a point when I realized that the damage I had inflicted upon him was going to be lasting. I knew it before the referee did. I knew it before Brandon Macdonald did. I knew it well before I handed him the belt and the briefcase, symbolically ending the match. I think Corey blames me for the damage to his back. I think he blames me for the end of his career. The truth is, he has nobody to blame but himself. That stupid, stubborn, Boston-born Irish-Catholic pride is what did the real damage. It’s convenient to hate me, because I swung the ax that killed his career. And hey, maybe that keeps him from taking it out on his wife and kids. If so? I can handle the weight of his enmity. But the truth is, Corey Casey is the one who destroyed his own career. He refused to stay down. He left me with no choice but to destroy him. I became that guy because he made me. But I think he thinks I’m that guy all the time. The truth is, I have no lasting hatred for Corey. As he watches me turn my back on Bad Company and walk out, I can tell his very perception of me has been challenged. Each step I take away from that ring seems to show him that I’m not the bastard he makes me out to be. I have my flaws, but I’m not a thug.

I make my way through the curtain and to the back. Already I can tell Lilith and Lilah are going to have a million questions I don’t want to answer. We’re moving upstream as it were. The three of us slipping through a rush to the gorilla position as security, agents and anyone who has any chance of stopping the IWF equivalent of World War 3 is running out to the arena long after the show has gone off the air. After we get out of the main gangway, we turn down a hallway and find the door with my name on it before too long. Once we’re inside I set the title down in my locker and turn around. The old Monty Python joke is that nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. I think I’d rather be facing The Spanish Inquisition. Lilah I’ll be able to defuse, it’s Lilith I’m worried about. Sure enough, she’s got both barrels loaded and she pulls the trigger on the first one.

“What the hell were you thinking out there,” Lilith snaps.

“He wasn’t, obviously,” Lilah adds.

“Obviously,” Lilith concurs. She looks at me pointedly. “You realize there’s a war going on, and you just turned your back on your only friends, without any guarantees that The Empire is going to have you back just because you walked away from Bad Company.”

I sigh, turning my back on them and taking off my shirt. I prop my feet up on the chair one-by-one and unbuckle my boots, stepping out of them in the same order I unbuckled them. Finally I manage to turn around and look. Lilah moves over near my side and starts shedding skintight clothing silently. She’s grabbed her towel and ducked into the shower, all while Lilith glares daggers at me with her arms folded under her ample chest. She shakes her head and says simply, “You are an impossible man sometimes, you know that?”

“I am,” I tell her. “But I didn’t screw the pooch the way you think I did.”

“How do you figure?” she demands.

“Because I wasn’t anything but a short-term solution for Chuck Matthews anyway,” I tell her. “Chuck Matthews, whatever his plan is, he knows I’m only a short-term solution. Not only did he know I wouldn’t be in it for the long haul, he planned for the day I walked out. He wasn’t planning for it to be so soon, but I was just a sellsword for him. I think Chuck’s plan was to point me at his enemies and stay out of my way.”

Lilith nods, a thought turning over in her mind before she sighs. “As long as Alexander Remington is Corey’s poster boy, you’re pretty much guaranteed to do just that, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I concur. “I serve Chuck’s plan whether I’m in Bad Company or not. In, he can keep an eye on me. But Chuck and I both know enough to know we can’t trust one another. That’s our problem, and why we’ll never coexist. We’re both too damn smart to let the other one behind us to draw a knife. All I really did by walking out of that ring tonight was make sure that Chuck and Bad Company have to stab me from the front.”

“Right, so what’s next?” she asks.

“Ryan Apollos.”

“Just like that?” she says with disbelief.

“Just like that,” I tell her. “I worry about the one thing I can worry about, and trust that preparation and skill sees me through the rest. I’ve fought too damn hard to regain this,” I tell her, patting the title. ”I don’t care what Dan Alexander, Cody Taylor or Robbie Hart say, I earned this. I never held anyone back, I never held anyone down, I never got a damn thing I didn’t earn. I beat Dan Alexander every time I faced him, and I’ve taken Robbie Hart out two out of three times I’ve been in with him. I went in to that match with five other men, and I had the same chance any of them had to take this home. The difference between me and them, all of them, including Robbie Hart crying that he was screwed, and the smartest man in professional wrestling who had a plan? I won the motherfucker. I am the IWF World Heavyweight Champion because I deserve to be. And if I’m the guy who loses to Ryan Apollos, I’ll never live that down. The next step is the next match. One by one. If anyone wants to find me, if anyone wants to fight me, if anyone wants to destroy me, they will know where to find me. I’ll be the seven foot tall guy in IWF holding the bright, shiny belt.”

What a Champion Has

Open up with a tight shot of the IWF World Heavyweight Championship sitting on a mahogany desktop. Stygian walks into the shot beside the table and runs his fingertips over the etched golden plate. He laughs and looks into the camera.

Stygian: Corey Casey has the Empire to try and take control of things. Chuck Matthews has gone through his old T-Shirts and decided to bring back a pale, piss-poor imitation of Bad Company to try and…well, I missed most of the meetings due to the fact that I knew Chuck and I were never any sort of alliance. Chuck Matthews and Stygian? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that wasn’t going to be a fruitful partnership. Chuck and I would be downright dangerous if we ever got on the same page…if we both didn’t know enough to know that we can’t trust one another. You know what, I don’t care who is vying with who else for control of this, that or another. I don’t care which megalomaniac is going to make his bid to control IWF. You know why? Because that play has been failing since I got here. Hell, since before I got here. It’s the same old tired bullshit that these guys have been running over and over since the old NLWF. Brenton Cyrus, Nick Ridicule, Chuck Matthews and Corey Casey all have been trying the same tired, dried-up bullshit since they all got together. It got old real fast in NLWF, evidenced by that fact that people quit watching and it went out of business the first time. It’s old here.

Stygian: Ever since I showed up, some faction has been trying to align under this guy or that to “control IWF” whatever the hell that means. “Brian Hunt” and Jason Hawk tried it with Apex. When people didn’t cower in fear as that name rang out through the heavens, they tried to align with Brandon Macdonald, Corey Casey, James Shark and Robbie Hart and called it Upper Limit. The that broke up, I got fired, and they split up, and then Robbie Hart, James Shark and Cody Taylor tried to be Team Swag 2.0 and take on the power…then it all went to hell with Chad Mason and Natural Law showed up. They carried around sledgehammers and talked a big game…where are they now?

Stygian: My point is, people have been trying to control IWF through numbers, intimidation and fear since IWF started. It’s the only play any of these guys know how to run. It’s Lombardi’s 38 Power Sweep, and it’s getting old, guys. It’s getting really fucking old. Here’s an idea; Chuck, Corey, you might want to take notes. If you want to “control IWF”, if you want to take it by the throat and really shape it’s destiny, why don’t you try to do it the way I did?

Stygian grabs the world title and pulls it up on to his shoulder to rest there.

Stygian: Why don’t you dominate inside that ring week in and week out until they have no choice but to give you a shot at this, and then when that time comes, grab it and don’t let go. You fuckers don’t “control IWF” and you never will. Not running the same tired old numbers game everyone has run as long as this sport’s been around. It always fails. It’s failed in IWF time after time after time. Hell, it’s failed when you assholes have tried it individually. It failed when you tried to do it together. Now it’s gonna fail when the two of you are at one another’s throats to try and do it. Because you can’t win IWF with a power play. None of it matters. I don’t care who’s on “your team”. I don’t care how many guys you line up. This…

Stygian slaps the belt for emphasis.

Stygian: This is what matters! You all want to be king of IWF, whatever the hell you think that means and symbolizes, but I have the crown. It doesn’t matter, guys. When Corey and Chuck finally get to that point where they whip them out and Alison Williams measures them? It won’t matter. You guys can stand on whatever soapbox and yell it into the TV sets of people as much as you like…it just…doesn’t…matter. Because when the bell rings and the lights shine down? I’m the man. It’s time I take this belt and do what I promised to do with it last year. I’m going to raise it up and carry it high. While you two squabble like petty warlords moving plastic pieces on a map in a smoky room, there I will be, in the main event, destroying whatever you throw at me. Because that’s the only way you’re going to change IWF. Take the crown and declare yourself king. I am the new king of IWF. Every else will bend the knee or I will destroy them. Starting with Ryan Apollos…

Stygian moves around the edge of the table and rests against it, shifting the belt from one shoulder to the other.

Stygian: You want this…don’t you? You’ve been on the verge for so long, Ryan. You’ve hovered at the edge of the upper echelon for such a time now. You always thought you had the talent, you always felt you had it in you. There have been glimpses, fleeting moments. The Path to Valhalla, Heroes Also Die…you’ve been so close for so long. All you have to do is raise up and grab this, the golden ring. It’s right here, Ryan. It’s so easy, really. All you have to do is pick it up. It doesn’t weigh much, only about 35 pounds. Indeed, it’s not much to pick it up at all. But picking it up isn’t half the weight you lift when you carry it. The real weight, the thing that makes this damn thing so heavy is what you have to go through to earn the right to carry it. Any fool can pick this up and prance around with it. We sell replicas on the web site for that specific purpose. You can pick one of these up for about four-hundred bucks and get your name carved on it. But until you earn the right to carry it for yourself? Until you’ve been in the ring and had your hand raised? It doesn’t matter. To be the man, you have to beat the man. That’s your task Ryan.

Stygian: “Beat Stygian.” Two simple, little words. So easily off the tongue, so hard in the flesh. People say it with the same inflection that they say they’re off to the corner store to procure a gallon of milk. People have predicated their whole careers on the supposition of what would happen if they could just do it. Beat Stygian. That’s all you have to do, Ryan. If you can? Do you know what awaits you? Ask Devlin Raine, ask Kevin Kayfabe. Hell you can ask Robbie Hart. All of them took that win over me and parlayed it into world title success.

Stygian nods, canting his head to one side and stroking his chin, the light stubble bristles audibly as his fingernails rub the coarse grain.

Stygian: Of course, they didn’t beat me for the world title. Because, you see, that’s harder. There is only one man walking this earth who’s taken a world title from me. Kaden Kessler. He needed his girlfriend, a shovel a tazer and a bulldozer to do it, but he did it. I’ve only ever lost one world title in my career. Because, and I’ll tell you this here because you’re unlikely to lear it for yourself, not as long as I’m here…there’s a different gear you find when you’re carrying a belt down to the ring that you don’t have any guarantee of walking out with. You find a different level. You get up from things you normally might stay down for. You use strength you didn’t even know you had. You’ll give so much more of yourself than you’ve ever given before just to have the right to carry that belt back out of the arena. Every man has to find that level they’re willing to go to, every man has to look in the mirror and see what he’s willing to give up, to sacrifice for the right to be called World Heavyweight Champion.

Stygian: This is your…third world title opportunity? If I’m not mistaken. Do you want to know why you haven’t succeeded? Why I think you haven’t? It’s not a lack of talent, Ryan. I know Ryan Apollos jokes are the norm around here, and for a while you might have been a joke, Ryan. You don’t lack the talent, Ryan. It’s desire. It’s willpower. Six men walked into that Double Cage Horror match, I walked out with the title because I simply wanted it more. I had the desire. I reached down into myself and found what it took to come out of that cage with the title. All of you lacked something. Robbie Hart lacked, ironically, heart. He was too busy talking about how unfair it was that he was put upon to defend the title against five other men. Chuck Matthews lacked desire. He didn’t care who won, as long as Chad Mason got fucked in the process. Steel Angel lacked commitment. Ever since his partner in crime Hostyle went AWOL, he hasn’t been in the game. Jack Savage lacked experience. He hasn’t been in the big spot nearly as often as so many of the other men in that cage that night. And you lacked willpower. You have it in every other facet Ryan. You have the talent, you have the smarts, you have the big matches under your belt. You know what you have to do to win the big matches…but you don’t know how to win them.

Stygian: I know what you’re thinking. I know what you expect me to say. I’m supposed to look in the mirror, than look at you and overlook you, right? Is that what you’re banking on? You know, I might have had that outlook once upon a time…before that fateful night that Robbie Hart kicked me in the head. Really, Robbie Hart taught me a valuable lesson that night. You see, un until then Robbie was kind of like you, Ryan. A career fuck up. Robbie, like you had all the talent in the world, but he couldn’t get his head in the game. Then he managed those two words we keep talking about. He “beat Stygian.” You know I read this quote once from a smart guy. His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He said, “when you lose the battle, do not lose the lesson.” Robbie Hart found and exploited a chink in my armor, and I didn’t bitch, I didn’t whine, I went to my trainer and started learning two new martial arts to try and correct it. I made the mistake once. I overlooked Robbie Hart and it cost me. I was never mad about what Robbie did that night. I was mad at myself. I was mad that I let such a glaring hole in my armor exist and didn’t correct it. Truth is, if I ever get the chance to stand in the same room with Robbie Hart, I’d thank him. Robbie Hart taught me a lesson.

Stygian: The second I don’t think someone can beat me, they own me. So I will not be making that mistake again Ryan. The truth is, you have it everywhere else that you could beat me and become world champion, but you’re missing…well for lack of a non-cliché way to explain it…you’re missing “it”. You just don’t have it. I mean, you couldn’t take the title away from Chad Mason. And Chad Mason wasn’t a true champion. Chad had to scheme and intimidate his way to the belt. He didn’t have the heart or the willpower to persevere, and he fended you off.

Stygian: There is so much more to being a world champion than winning a match and carrying a belt. And the thing is Ryan? I can’t tell you what you’re missing. If I would I could, because I want the challenge. I want to be pushed by someone who truly thinks they can come down that aisle and take this from me. Because when my challengers are better it forces me to get better. It forces me to evolve. I want men who can push me to the limit and force me to evolve, because I want to be remembered after I’ve left this sport. I want to be remembered, held up as an example of the pinnacle of this sport. I want to be one of the great champions in the annals of the sport, and I’m working with a shorter time table. I’m a big man, I’m probably not going to last much past 40. Not many of us do in athletic competition. Foot and leg problems seem to pile up for all of us. So I need to take these few years I’m gifted and do something spectacular. I don’t just want to be a champion, I want to be the champion. I have the kind of tools you don’t often see. I have such a rare combination of size, speed, power and agility that just don’t come together that often. I have a real opportunity to be something very special. This?

Stygian holds the title up into the camera, obscuring everything else but the main plate of the belt and his name etched into the name plate at the bottom before he flips it back onto his shoulder.

Stygian: I don’t need the title to stand out, but now that I have it? You’re going to have to beat me within an inch of my life to take it away. I will sacrifice my body, my health, my very essence to leave the arena with this belt in my hands. It’s…I can’t explain to you what the difference is, Ryan. I can’t tell you what that thing is that takes hold deep inside of you when you’re a true champion. I can’t bottle it, if I could I’d make a fortune. It’s something you just…have. I have it. Brandon Macdonald had it. Johnny Styles had it. Corey Casey had it. But it was something different to all of them. I guess you have to find what it is deep inside of you that won’t let you leave that arena without winning that title or dying in the attempt. I can’t tell you what it is. I think it has to be personal for each man. Something inside of you, a standard you hold yourself to. You have to find it for yourself Ryan. I can’t tell you what it is for me…I couldn’t for the life of me put into words what this belt, what being the rightful and true champion of the world means to me. But I can show you. I can show you and I’m going to Sunday at the MGM grand in Las Vegas. Lilah’s home town, well, one of them anyway. The town she went to school in, point of fact, the town we met her in.

Stygian: I’m going to show you and show the world the difference between a talented competitor, and a champion. Because I am the hardest man in the world to take a world heavyweight title from. I have been in 17 world title matches in my career. In 14 of them I’ve been the defending champion. I failed as a challenger once, I captured the title twice, and I’ve defended the world heavyweight title 13 times. Thirteen times I have come down to that ring, put my title, my reputation, my World Championship on the line and dared the other man or men to take it from me, and they couldn’t do it. Talented, hungry, angry men, some of them better than you have come to test themselves and failed. In any other match, on any other night, you’d have an evensum chance. But not this night, not for this title. Because while Corey Casey and Chuck Matthews have gone out on the playground and picked teams to play Red Rover for control for IWF? I have taken it by the throat. I have taken its crown and declared myself king of the mountain. And I don’t need The Empire, or Bad Company to keep this thing around my waist. It’s muscle, sweat, blood and bone. My pride won’t let me give up. It won’t let me risk this against another man and let him take it away from me without anything less that every ounce I have in the tank. As Gorgo sees Leonidas off in 300 the last words she gives him, the last words brave Leonidas will ever hear from his wife, his queen, the mother of his child and the woman who holds his heart is this: “come back with your shield, or on it.” Come back victorious from battle, or having fought to your last breath. That’s what it takes to get a World Title from me, Ryan. There won’t be any Robbie Hart kick to the head. There won’t be some magic trick. You won’t roll me up while Alex Remington does the Macarena under the jumbotron. You have to be the better man than I am that night. You have to want it…no…need to walk out with that belt more than I do. Normally you just have to be the better man for three seconds. But not Sunday. Sunday you have to be better from start to finish. This is the purest this sport will ever get, Ryan. Pure competition for the greatest prize in its undiluted form. This is Mortal Kombat, and the fate of relams are at stake. I am the god-emperor, and if you can defeat me, you can perhaps possess my power. And if you can’t? Then just like everyone else, your failure will go unnoticed. You’ll become just another man who wasn’t good enough. Let Chuck and Corey and their joy luck clubs fight for illusionary control over IWF. The truth? I control IWF. I have its crown and any attempt to usurp order eventually comes through me. And I don’t need help, I don’t need backup, I don’t need friends. I never have. All I’ve ever done, and all I will continue to do is keep my foot on this company’s throat. It’s been a long time since IWF had a real champion, that I can’t blame you for not recognizing it when you see it. I’m a real champion. I’m the real king. Now…BOW…THE…FUCK…DOWN!

Stygian shakes his head and walks out of the shot, and it cuts to black.

Subject: Re: Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian Sat Oct 27, 2012 10:50 pm

Dream State Zi
Part 9

"Checkmate!" Ryan smiled triumphantly as he slammed his piece down.

"In checkers?" Josef asked.

"They use the same board!" Ryan gestured to the black and white marble board on which the round, metal checkers pieces had been placed. The board had hosted a chess game between the two the prior week.

"Same as what?" Eura asked, leaning toward Ryan from her spot on the tableside sofa at the far edge of the Dragoon's Nest cockpit.

"Another game, you weren't there." Ryan smiled.

"Oh? How'd that one go?"

"Well." Josef responded. The group laughed.

"Well, well!" Sao walked in from the hall. "Glad we're all enjoying- what is that music?" He gestured to the console, which was playing a classical piece.

"Oh, that's uh, Symphony 99 by… Crap, who was that one by?" Ryan looked to Josef, who shrugged. "Well, we don't know who wrote it, but Leon and Naomi sent it over the other day. They sent some Sonata piece too. 54 I think? It's so-so stuff."

"It's classy!" Eura said smiling.

"It's classic." Ryan laughed.

"It's completely irrelevant to the topic of conversation but," Sao walked right up to the group at the table, "We have arrived."

"Arrived?" Ryan batted an eyebrow. "We've actually been heading somewhere all this time?"

"Well, yes, but that's not where we've arrived at."

"Now I'm even more confused." Ryan glanced jokingly at Eura, who giggled. Sao cleared his throat.

"We have arrived at the Enseit Canyon, whose cliff-side rest post, shopping center, and café attracts patrons from near and far. Today three of those patrons will be us."

"So we're here to patronize them?" Ryan responded with a smirk. Josef made a strange beep-like noise. Ryan stood up. "Did you just laugh?" He turned to Eura, "Eura, tell me you just heard Josef laugh."

The girl struggled to respond through her own uproarious giggling, "Ha-I don't kno-o-oh ha ah ha!"

Sao let out an amused grunt before continuing. "Well, we may do some of that, but mostly I'm here to meet an old friend."

"Alright, fine. So why did we need to know about this?" Ryan leaned back in his seat again, glancing at the board again in response to light tapping by Josef's hands. The robot had gotten a piece to Ryan's back row and was thus to be 'kinged'.

"I'm glad you asked." Sao strolled a few steps past the table and clicked a button on the nearby console. The Zoid radar flashed into being on the main screen – a cornucopia of dots lined the canyon, like the arm of a spiral galaxy, into which the Dragoon's Nest was about to enter. "As you can see, our passage through the area has been highly anticipated."

"Backdraft?"

"Paparazzi more likely, from the uncoordinated movements. And I'd rather not bother my friend with undue commotion if I can help it. So," he turned back to the group, "We'll be splitting up. You'll head out first. Head down that southern route to the canyon bridge, and make yourself visible. Meanwhile I'll surreptitiously head north and have my meeting. Few hours pass, we'll switch places, you all eat or do as you will, and we'll be… off." He smirked at the last few words.

"Ok, I guess, but why are the onlookers gonna follow me and not you?" Ryan said as he reached out to king Josef's piece.

"Because you'll be going in the Trinity Liger."

Ryan's hand slipped, knocking over half the pieces on the board.

"Ugh." Josef groaned.

"Accident!" Ryan blurted out.

"Right." The robot muttered.

Ryan turned back to Sao. "I'm going out in the Trinity?"

"Yes. And I'll be commandeering your Houndsoldier." Ryan paused, noted his mouth was slightly agape, and closed it. Eura leaned toward him.

"Ryan?"

He smiled. "Alright. If you can trust me with the Trinity, I'll trust you with the Houndsolider."

"Well it was mine at one point, after all." Sao winked, walking down the hall. "Josef, man the cargo bays, then park the Dragoon's Nest somewhere in the smaller crevices. This place is full of them. C'mon Ryan!"

With a stiff salute, Josef slid away from the table and towards the controls. Ryan stood and straightened his collar. He couldn't help noticing Eura fidgeting as she leaned back on the sofa. He scratched his chin awhile at the sight.

"Ryan, you better go." She piped in.

"Hey, Eura."

"Hm?"

"Did Sao let you see inside the Trinity before?"

"No." She said with a shrug.

"Well, you wanna have a look?" She looked up, almost skeptical. "You won't get another chance." He grinned. She grinned back.

The Trinity Liger sped out of the Dragoon's Nest, racing down the rock path towards the bridge, and kicking up a mountain of red dust in its wake. Its wide, uneven, but nonetheless blazing fast stride hinted at its pilot's struggles. Those struggles happened to come with a voice.

"Whoa! Damn! It's got all the speed and twice the build! It's like piloting a rock out of a cannon! Argh!" A jumble of frightened yells blended into excited screams. Sao could only hear the dialogue through the Houndsoldier intercom, but he felt inclined to smirk.

"Move over! It's too rough here!" Eura's voice. Sao wasn't exactly clear where she was sitting or why she was along, but he didn't feel inclined to ask.

"It's rough everywhere! Lemme just try and…"

"Whoa!"

Sao leaned back in his seat. "Be gentle with her." He said softly, not sure he could be heard.

"I'm trying!"

"How do you stand this Zoid, Sao?" Eura yelled out, more bemused that frustrated.

"He's a better pilot! Wait! Okay. I think got it now!"

"Whoa, hey! Not bad Ryan! It's running a lot smoother." Eura said.

"Heheh, just gotta get to know it!" Assorted laughter from both parties.

Sao nodded to himself, as he began activating the Houndsoldier's internal systems and acclimating himself to the controls.

"Ryan, stop!"

"Oh sorry!" Nervous laughter from Ryan. Sao snorted.

"No stop!"

"Huh? Aaaah!"

Sao paused. Jumbled screams and rubble. "You alright?" Ryan asked.

"Little abrupt dontcha think?"

"You said to stop." He sounded half mocking and half accusatory.

"Well yeah. You were gonna miss the Bridge. It's to the right."

"Huh? Oh right. Right."

The sounds of the Trinity moving once more. Sao shook his head, deactivating the intercom. He cracked his knuckles. "Alright old girl, it's been awhile. Let's get movin'." He pressed the throttle forward.

He was thrust back as the Houndsoldier leapt out of the cargo bay and sailed for the rock walls around the path. Thinking quick, Sao flipped the hind legs forward, landing on the wall side and rebounding for a less-than-soft landing.

"Ugh. All the speed and half the build. It's like piloting a…" He stopped, and chuckled, shaking his head, then set the Houndsoldier off at a brisk pace.

A large iron bundle of pikes, weaved together like roots, supported the otherwise nondescript silver bridge over the gaping chasm of Enseit Canyon. Below, a serene river had carved its way through the mountains over thousands of years. A little ways down, the Enseit Rest Post stood perched over the water. And on the bridge proper, a wave of Zoids lied in wait.

Then, it happened. As if receiving a call, which many had, they set off towards the north side of the bridge. Sure enough, the Trinity rounded the corner as if on a schedule and continued bounding towards them.

It reached the middle and ground to a rickety stop. "Well, I guess he'd want us to wait around and bask in the attention." Ryan mused.

"Shouldn't be too hard." Eura said, unclipping the seat belt that had been stretched to its capacity and climbing off, Ryan to stretch in the spacious cockpit. The couple looked outside.

The Zoids seemed unperturbed, continuing to bound past them, until only a pack of standard-green cannon tortoises and an orange Gul Tiger remained. The two stared at each other, puzzled.

Ryan fell back into the seat. "I can't believe it." He turned to a puzzled Eura. "His reputation's finally run dry."

"I can't believe this." Sao muttered from the Houndsoldier cockpit, mouth agape.

"Ryan Apollos! Is it true you dealt the final blow in an illegal battle with the Backdraft?" A reporter yelled out from a blue Cannonfort with 'Zoid Legends Weekly' plastered on the side in large red letters.

"Mr. Apollos! Is it true the battle involved some kind of illegal toxic chemical weapons?" Another reporter shouted from the head of a green Brachios, "Were you aware that the Commission…"

"Ryan! The fans want to know!" A female voice called from a bright red Merda, "What's your favorite music?"

Sao groaned, massaging his brow. "His reputation's finally blossoming." He let out a sigh, looking longingly at the towering white rest post behind the assembly of reporters' Zoids. "Well, nothing like hard facts to calm down the sensationalist news media." He unbuckled the seatbelt and flipped a lever atop the cockpit roof.

"RYAN APOLLOS, ARE YOU SINGLE?" A voice boomed out from a pink Diloforce.

With a slow, pneumatic hiss, the top of the Houndsoldier head lifted, revealing the bemused, cross-armed Sao to the assembly.

"Hello." He waved.

An awkward silence settled in. The silence coalesced into a sea of muttering. Then it simply broke.

"Mr. Ensiné, did your apprentice, Ryan Apollos, make a finishing blow in an illegal match with the Back-"

"Sao Ensiné, how long have you been mentoring Ryan Apollos? Can you comment on his progress? Is there any reason why you're piloting his Houndsold-"

"Sao, do you know anything about Ryan's taste in music?"

"Uhh…" Sao looked up blankly. "He likes rock music?"

"Did he take off all the switch labels?" Eura wondered aloud as she looked over the Trinity Console, a sleek, ergonomic, black slate of glowing blue buttons and control sticks. Indeed, where one might have found labels, there were only shiny chrome borders, tinted orange from the Liger's cockpit glass.

"I feel like there was a reason for that." Ryan scratched at his hair as he leaned over beside her.

"Oh wait! Here's one! 'Burning Armor?' Whaddya suppose…" She reached toward the switch, and its corresponding steel-inscribed label.

"No wait!" Ryan yelled.

The twin beam cannons let off a massive round, rocking the cockpit and flinging Eura into Ryan's lap. "He said…" Ryan grunted.

"Mm?" Eura asked, not making an effort to get up.

"He used to have labels, but he took them off, cuz he changed around the inputs so much that they became unreliable."

The two sat up to survey the damage. A large debris cloud was settling over the canyon – it appeared that the beam cannons had burst fully over the center of the canyon, creating a great spectacle, but thankfully not hitting anyone. The two looked at each other and laughed nervously.

"Hey you see that?" Eura pointed behind Ryan towards the Rest Post. A spray of dust was rising – the telltale signs of a crowd of Zoids. They shrugged.

"Hey, you see that?" The elevator operator asked. "I never seen so many Zoids take off so quick!"

Sao shrugged.

"Heard they was looking for some hot-shot Warrior. Rides a Houndsoldier."

"Well, word is he's piloting a Trinity Liger today. They caught sight of his beam cannons earlier and ran off."

"Mm. He really all that?

Sao grinned. "Well he's certainly got timing."

The elevator tone went off, and the operator gestured to the door. "Level 5, food court, bars and the Café Duseres." Sao gave a light bow and strode out to the smooth polished floor.

The café wasn't hard to find – modernist and simple in construction, but lit with soft amber lighting that complemented its warm aroma. And sitting around a sleek glass table, he found the friend he'd set out to meet.

"Well, if it isn't Stigma Stoller!" Sao called out, walking up the man.

"Sao Ensiné!" He stood up, brushing a strand of pale lavender hair out of his eyes, and extended a hand. "It has been awhile."

Sao gripped the gloved hand and gave a hearty shake. "Over a year at least! Oh, Stoller, I see you've finally put that team together!" Sao gestured to a man and woman sitting at the other seats of the table.

"Ah yes, it has been that long hasn't it! Ensiné, may I introduce the Neophander Team. Here, my old associate, Sanders." Sanders jolted upwards and gave a salute.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Ensiné."

"Sao, Sanders, please!" Sao reached out to shake his hand, which Sanders hesitantly did.

"The Captain's told me a lot about you. I'm really…"

"Relax, we'll get around to all in good time, knowing this man." He pat Sanders on the shoulder. "And who's this lovely lady?" He looked to the left at a woman leaning back in her chair, her face obscured by long green hair.

"Ah, and this is a more recent acquaintance, Pierce."

"Ms. Pierce." Sao gave a light bow.

Pierce stood smoothly, brushing the hair out of her face to reveal a bright red suit and seductive smile. "Stoller tells me you're a very interesting man, Sao Ensiné."

"Always a pleasure to hear, Ms. Pierce."

"Pierce, please." Pierce laughed.

"And you can call me Sao."

"Have you always been this sociable?" Chuckled Stoller.

"Now I think about it, I have been getting something of an influx of sociability in my life."

"The man had been living with robots for the longest time, not the healthiest lifestyle, I should say." Stoller said slyly to Sanders.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss robots, Stoller. They play a mean game of checkers." Sanders chuckled.

"Ahem. sorry Captain."

"Nonsense, Sanders!" Stoller grinned, "To laugh a little makes use of the heart. That said, perhaps we should make use of these chairs and have a seat?"

"And when'd you develop a sense of humor?"

"Only a sense for it." The group chuckled and sat down. "Seems you've acquired something of a following Ensiné."

"You'd have one too if started fighting."

"We're just taking our sweet time dear." Pierce said, pouring out a stream of milk into a icy glass mug of coffee and passing it over to Sao. "No sense getting worked up. You'll just run around chasing things."

Sao smiled, "Well if the right people are watching, you might just catch what you're chasing." He looked around the table, holding up his mug to for a cheer.

"To the fanbase?"

"To the fanbase." The group chorused with a laugh.

"Guess it's different to his fanbase." Eura said, leaning back on Ryan.

"Shouldn't you know? I thought you were a part of it." Ryan mused, putting his hands on her knees.

She sighed, took his hands and dragged his arms around her. "I was."

"Well, wasn't he just everything you'd ever dreamed about?" Ryan droned sarcastically as he looked aside.

"Hm." Eura sighed. "You can look up to him. You can just look at him." She grinned and Ryan chuckled. "He's confident. But… He doesn't have everything I'd ever dream of." She turned over and laid her head against Ryan's chest. " He's not always there when you want him to be."

"He's with his Zoids and his battle modes. Always."

"Ain't that the truth." She looked up.

"You know, I never asked. Where did you first meet him?

"I first met this man, " Sao nudged Stoller, "At a bar, a good year back."

"This joke better have a good punchline." Pierce laughed.

"Pierce! This is serious!" Sanders chimed in.

"No it's not." Sao and Stoller chorused.

"The man was frustrated, and rightly so." Sao took a swig of coffee, and reached for a sugar pack.

"Frustrated?" Sanders asked.

"Quite, Sanders." Stoller nodded, "This was just before I left the Backdraft with you. It was this man who gave me the idea!" He put his arm around Sao.

"Hey, all I said was that if you wanted to fight the guy one on one, you could challenge him in mode 0992!"

"So that's where he got the idea." Sanders scratched his chin.

"I never asked," Sao turned back to Stoller, "Did you beat him?"

"I did not. But I think that was the match where I first felt what a good battle mode could do. If a loss or two is the only price for pursuing the most new, ingenious, and heart pounding battles, I'd gladly pursue those all my life."

"Truer words, never said!" Sao gave a hearty nod.

"And how goes your pursuit? Still saving for that stadium?"

"And closer than ever."

"Now there's a place I'd like to battle."

"I'd like to have you, if it ever gets built."

''Course it will! That girl's still bugging you about it isn't she?"

"Girl?" Pierce sat up.

"I'm bugging her more like. On my way to meet her now as it happens." Sao responded.

"Who is this girl?" Pierce leaned in.

"Childhood friend wasn't it?" Stoller asked.

"Yeah. Haven't seen her in person since… longer than since I've seen you!"

"Ho-oh! Hope she still remembers you."

"But I'm sure you'll find someone else if she doesn't." Pierce grinned, leaning towards Sao.

"…Yeah." Sao sighed, flagging down a passing waiter for a refill.

"Been keeping busy besides that?" Stoller asked as he drained the rest of his coffee.

"Yeah. Just came from a rather interesting battle with some of your former associates."

"Oh?"

"Man named Silvereye ring a bell?" Nods of recognition from around the table. "So you know him."

"I'd only met him a couple times." Pierce said, leaning back. "He had a very keen passion for the structure of battles, and what made them… interesting."

"The Organization, however, didn't share that passion. They viewed the element of danger as more integral to the Backdraft way, and his views had been pushed aside. He was a good man. It's nice to know he's getting somewhere." Stoller replied. "Who was the pilot?"

"Jihnera ring a bell?"

"No. Sanders?"

"I think I may've seen his name on one of the recruiting lists… But I can't be sure, sir."

"A new one then. Not much we can say."

"Mm. So, you're all headed back now?"

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Sorry I asked!" Sao leaned back to laughter from the group.

"Well…" Sanders said, before pausing. Stoller gestured him to speak on. "It was a toughening experience. I met the Captain there." Stoller gave a slight nod and a smile. "But life on our terms has none of the hierarchy and all of the action, and for all the extra expenses we end up with…" He smiled, "It's free."

"Well said, Sanders."

"Not bad kid." Pierce nudged the man.

"Mm. And just what Zoid do you run Sanders?" Sao leaned on his arm.

"The Captain provided a Madthunder for my usage. I haven't risen to his expectations yet, but I do enjoy it."

"Well maybe we should give you the chance to rise to those expectations."

Stoller grinned. "Now that, Ensiné, is what I've been waiting to hear."

"You hear something?" Eura asked. A rumbling began to pervade the cockpit.

"Wait a minute…" Ryan reached over to the console where they had previously decided the Zoid radar was, and flicked it on. They were surrounded.

"Ryan Apollos! Are you in there? Why did you steal Sao Ensiné's Zoid? Was it an argument or is Sao just a di-"

"Mr. Apollos, can you confirm the rumors that you dealt the final blow to a giant, radioactive, soul-sapping Gogulas deployed by the Backdraft a few days ago?"

"Ryan, we heard you like rock music, what's your favorite artist?

Eura and Ryan looked at each other and laughed. She reached to the switch that threw open the cockpit, not leaving her spot in Ryan's lap. With a pneumatic hiss, the orange glass top of the Trinity Liger swung open, and a voice rang out.

"RYAN APOLLOS, ARE YOU SINGL-" Heiden and Eura stood. "OH. NEVER MIND."

The crowd of Zoids surged closer. Eura reached down with her foot, and hit the switch turning on the internal microphones.

"Uh… I like Metallica!" Ryan smiled. Eura hugged him, giggling. The crowd went wild.

From the Rest Post side of the bridge, a dark blue Elephander, a navy green Madthunder, a steely Storm Sworder, and Ryan's sandy brown Houndsoldier walked a slow pace toward the commotion, limited by the speed of the Elephander, and the walking speed of the Storm Sworder.

"You sure you can spare the time?" Sao asked.

"Why put off the occasion? You're the one in a rush." Stoller responded.

"I wouldn't call it a rush, I'm just on the road. And I always got time for a good battle. I do like that choice. Seems fitting, with me running here and there all day long. Ryan!"

"Hey, get in line!" A reporter shouted back.

"Sao? Sao you there?"

"Get over here Ryan, Eura! We gotta get you back in the right Zoids!"

"You don't mean?"

A reporter jutted in, "HAVE YOU BEEN CHALLENGED TO A BATTLE MR. ENSINÉ?"

"You guessed it!"

And in what may well have felt like the crowning moment of Sao's life, the crowd shouted in unison.

"What's the battle mode?"

Stoller answered, "0959."

"Absolute Dynamic Cat and Mouse?" Ryan yelled.

"You done it before?" Eura asked.

"Somethin' like it." He responded. "When do we start?"

"1 hour."

"Alright!" Ryan paused. "Wait, what?"

"Well, no one was using the area, and we though making plans up on the spot would be more interesting for all of us!" Sao responded, now back in the Trinity Liger.

"It's just such a quick turnaround." Ryan replied from the Houndsoldier.

"I'm sure we'll get by." Eura stretched out the Evoflyer wings.

The three were now assembled in a shallower, narrow set of canyons nearby. The rocky paths had given way to dust and sand and the walls had become higher and more cracked. It was a natural labyrinth not suited to the usual fare of battle modes and thus not in use when the teams asked to reserve it. However, one suspected that the added pressure of a pack of ecstatic reporters calling in may have guided the Commission's decision to provide a Judge on such short notice.

The Judge had perched himself near the assembly of reporters, who had amassed atop a nearby, flat cliffside. "ALL unauthorized personnel MUST leave the area! Danger! You there! Did you not hear me the first time! Press are not authorized!"

"Who's idea was the mode Sao?" Ryan asked.

"It was a mutual decision. I get along quite well with that man." Sao replied.

"We have a plan?" Eura stroked her controls, grinning.

"We'll see when the Judge declares initiative." Sao responded.

"What?"

"You'll see." Ryan replied.

The Judge called out, "Area scanned! Battlefield set-up! The Nova team versus the Neophander Team. Battle mode 0-9-5-9! Ready…. FIGHT!"

Silence spread over the battlefield. The Judge made his proclamation: "The Nova Team has initiative! 5 minutes till initiative switch!"

"Alright let's go!" Sao yelled, pushing the Trinity forward.

"Not hanging back this time, are we?" Ryan responded as he surged the Houndsoldier after him.

"It's a different mode Ryan! The dynamic is absolute. If you lack the initiative, no projectiles, no melee attacks, no instigating direct contact. If the enemy catches you when the switch occurs, you better have a way out, or you're down for the count. Eura!"

"Sao?"

"Get up there! Find them! Our plans begin when we have a sense of where they are. This match will be all about the surroundings!"

"Roger that!" She moved the Evoflyer into its flight mode and soared out over the canyon.

"What about their flight unit?" Ryan asked. "I thought I saw a Storm Sworder with them. Will she be alright?"

"Pierce would have to be stupid to go up now, with no weapons. She'll hide out till the switch, then do just what Eura's doing to them. But if we can find them first, they might not get that far."

"Sao! I got them!"

"Where Eura?" Ryan asked.

"Do you see all of them?" Sao pressed.

"A valley, 5 kilometers northwest. I only see the Madthunder. There's a lot of outcropping rocks."

"See if you can find the others. Ryan, get in there. I'll run cover. Take the Madthunder down if you can, but make sure you have an escape route!"

"You got it!" Ryan pressed ahead of Sao, moving northwest into the narrower passages. He noted a number of slopes of varying grade carved into the cliff-walls as he passed. "Lotta ways to move up around here."

"Good thinking Ryan. Lots of escape routes, we don't want to engage here, but we can retreat back here if we must."

"I see him!" Ryan yelled, approaching a narrow gap in the walls, just wide enough for a Zoid to pass. Through the walls lay a wider stretch of gold sand and at the far end of the valley, the Madthunder.

Ryan ran the Hounsoldier through the gap with Sao chasing just a few hundred meters behind, when a rumble surged through the grounds. A rain of rock crashed into the gap and Sao made a hard break. He fired a few beam rounds at the rocks – it'd take him more than five minutes to break through them all.

"Ugh! Closing off the escape without directly hitting him. Genius." He turned around.

Ryan took little notice as he ran through the valley, kicking up plumes of gold dust in his wake.

"Just as you said Captain," Sanders spoke into the private intercom, "He's gone right past you and headed straight for me."

"Good, Sanders, now comes the hard part." Stoller responded from the Elephander, hidden in the shadows on the other side of the former-gap. Large depressions in the wall evidenced concentrated ramming by the Elephander's front legs. "You'll be in significant danger from his assault in the next few minutes, and if he escapes through the other end, or takes you out, our efforts will be for naught."

"Don't worry sir! I won't let you down!" Sanders turned the Madthunder away from the approaching Houndsoldier and ran for the gap at the other end of the valley, taking a path fraught with rocks jolting up through the sand.

The Houndsoldier plowed through the rocks as it gained speed. Ryan soon entered firing range and blasted his 3-barrel burst cannon. The Madthunder deployed its Particle Absorption Shield, which rippled with every burst. "Can't protect yourself forever!" The Houndsoldier flew up towards the slower Madthunder. "Cross lance!"

The Hounsoldier's lances slashed through the Madthunder's Particle Shields, and ripped into its two mounted Beam Cannons, sending it flying towards the canyon wall. Wasting no time, Sanders flipped the switch on the Madthunder's Magnesser Drill and lumbered toward the gap in the wall.

"No you don't!" Ryan ran for the Zoid. "Bite Fangs!" The Houndsoldier jumped at the Madthunder, gnawing into its head, and sending its shields flickering away into static. But the impact of the running-bite sent the Zoid right where it wanted to be – drilling into the canyon wall, and sending another set of rock crumbling down to block the exit.

"One more'll do it! I don't even need to get close!" Ryan moved his right hand to the launch buttons for his missiles. Click! The text TARGET AQURIRED appeared on the screen. "Chase Missile Pods!" Ryan yelled, slamming the trigger.

SYSTEMS LOCK – the screen said. "What?"

"5 Minutes elapsed!" The Judge declared. "The Neophander Team has initiative!"

The Madthunder worked its way back up and ambled around to face the Houndsoldier. Sanders grinned, grasped the triggers and let rain with his 2 and 4 barreled shotguns. Ryan dashed off, but took a hit to the rear leg. Sanders pursued but was quickly left behind.

"Hang back Sanders." Stoller commanded, "We're too slow to give pursuit. And pursuit isn't what we're after, besides. We need to trap the Houndsoldier in a corner, then my Elephander can finish him before the initiative switch. Pierce!"

"I'm on it," The woman replied, finally raising her Storm Sworder up.

"Eura! What's going on?" Sao called.

"I couldn't find the others. Where are you?"

"I'm trying to find the other way into the valley."

"I think they blocked it off."

"Dammit! I could really use some good news around here."

"Well, I just found the Storm Sworder!" Eura exclaimed, half-sarcastically, having sighted the pale-lavender Zoid soaring upwards.

"And now it begins…" Sao muttered. "Get down Eura! She's got the advantage in speed and combat! Hang in there any way you can!"

"Got it!" She dived into the cliffs.

"Too late darling, I caught a peek of you!" Pierce smiled. "Stoller! I found the Evoflyer. Gonna take it out and get back to you!"

"Make a thorough job of it." Stoller replied, as he fired the 45 mm machineguns on the Elephander trunk at the blur of the Houndsoldier. Ryan dug hard into the ground, making wide turns at every opportunity. Soon the center of the valley was caked in dust. "I expected no less of Ensiné's apprentices. Using the dust as cover. Sadly, it won't suffice." He turned the Elephander all the way to the left side of the valley. "Sanders, aim to your left and work towards the center of the valley."

"Roger sir!"

"Fire!" The two Zoids systematically blasted through the dust, moving from the periphery inward. Clash! Stoller hit metal. "Move in Sanders!" The Houndsoldier began running again, but the dust cover gave little aid, and the valley was too narrow to gain high speed.

High speed was reserved to the skies. Eura soared down into a narrow passage. Pierce pursued, Pulse Laser Guns blazing. The canyon walls were wide enough and curved enough that straight shots missed more often than not, but the occasional, rocking hit was more than enough to remind Eura that a strong blast would be her last.

"Well, if you're a dodgy sort," Pierce mused, "I'll stop the aiming and cut to the chase!" She launched her Sword Missiles – frightening bleeps on Eura's radar. Both Zoid and missiles alike closed in quick. Suddenly, the canyon narrowed. Eura flipped the Evoflyer vertically to make it through the gap. The missiles, clumped together, combusted, sending the canyon walls down around them. Eura could sense the rumbling as the stones fell – perhaps it was because the passage ahead had gotten narrower, barely a wing length in width. At least now any missiles had a good chance of blowing up right in the Storm Sworder's face, she thought.

A great crashing sounded behind. Pierce had extended the Storm Sworder's Wing Swords, straight into the cliff walls, and was gaining fast. She had increased her altitude and was moving in, following Eura's every motion like a cat stalking a tail or a pendulum, not letting her get ahead, or above. Truly, an unwinnable war – even if the initiative changed, Eura would be crushed under the rock when the Storm Sworder passed overhead. Even if it had changed.

Suddenly, Eura's brain sparked. "You may have the higher speed, but with more speed, comes less control!" She dived down in a loop and headed straight back towards the Storm Sworder. Pierce grimaced, following her down out of instinct. She leveled out, following when suddenly-

She plowed into the falling rocks she had just sent falling. Peering ahead she could see the Evoflyer had not only flipped, but turned vertical again minimizing the area susceptible to the falling rock. Quickly, she banked upwards, digging her wing-mounted Strike Claws into the rock and sending still more rubble falling down on the Storm Sworder. "No! This can't be!" Pierce yelled, firing her pulse lasers. But the additional fire only crumbled the canyon walls down further and the Storm Sworder was sent falling to the rocky floor.

"Neophander Team Unit 3, out of the battle!"

"Eura, was that you?" Sao called out.

"Sure was!" She responded breathing heavily.

"How'd ya do it?"

"The canyon walls, Sao! If you can get their Zoid below the rocks, you don't have to attack it directly!"

"Superb Eura! I think I have just the way to finish this. Get back to the valley!"

"Got it." Eura replied as Sao doubled back around to the approach to the valley's former front entrance.

"Sao, what are you do- Arrgh!" Ryan yelled.

The Elephander and Madthunder had landed solid, simultaneous hits, sending the Houndsoldier cascading into the ground.

"Ryan, what side of the valley are you on?"

"What?" The Elephander moved in, as Ryan struggled to raise the Houndsoldier.

"Which wall are you closest to?"

"North!"

"Get closer!" SLAM! The claw arm of the Elephander Trunk latched into the neck of the Houndsoldier.

"Ugh… Will do!" Ryan yelled, pushing the throttle to full towards the wall.

"Hmph, what is this? I expected more from you!" Stoller exclaimed, blasting the Houndsoldier with close range gunfire.

"Raargh!" Ryan cried out, as he pushed the Houndsoldier toward the walls, slowly dragging the Elephander with him.

"You're done!" Stoller shouted, blasting the face of the Houndsoldier with his AZ Hyper Laser guns.

"Ughh!" Ryan felt his body thrown back as his screen froze.

"Nova Team, unit 2, out of the battle!" The Judge declared.

"Hmph. You couldn't escape." Stoller proclaimed on an open channel, "The Houndsoldier simply doesn't have enough mass. It's too light of a build to counter my Elephander."

"Who said he was escaping?" Sao yelled out.

"What? Where-"

"Captain! Above!"

There, atop the cliff side over the Elephander, the Trinity Liger stood high. It gave a mighty roar and slammed its claws into the rock overhanging the valley. A rain of rubble tumbled down onto the Elephander, rocking the valley.

"Well Ryan, we didn't end up engaging there, but those upward slopes did come in use." Sao proclaimed.

"Ugh… Good to know!" Ryan called back.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Ensiné!" Slowly, from beneath the rubble, the Elelphander and its pink energy shield, sparking, rose shaking from the rocks. "The heavy weight did put a strain on my shield, but it's still running. It'll take more than that to take me down."

"5 minutes elapsed! The Nova Team has initiative." The Judge proclaimed.

Stoller grinned, "Why aren't you aiming your cannons Ensiné? Aren't you gonna take a shot?"

"You said yourself Stoller. It'll take more weight to down your shield."

"You have no more rock, Ensiné!"

The Liger backed up. "Stoller, I expected more from you. Just because you took down Ryan's Houndsoldier, you seem to have forgotten about the differences in our Zoids! As one man put it, the Trinity Liger packs almost all of the speed of the Houndsoldier, into twice the build."

Stoller's eyes widened.

"And when that thing gets going-" Sao moved the Liger forward.

"It's like a rock out of a cannon!" Ryan called out.

The Liger made a great leap off of the cliff edge, straight into the Elephander. Stoller slammed on the energy shield and the Liger slammed right into it. A flurry of sparks cascaded outwards until in a blinding flash, the shield shattered into nothingness and the Elephander was thrust back.

The Liger too was thrown a ways, but rebounded, sides glowing with energy. "Photon Cutter!" It ripped into the torso of the Elephander, sending it toppling into the sand.

"Neophander Team, Unit 1, out of the battle!" said the Judge.

"Captain!"

"Sanders, drill through the rock! Get out and wait for the next switch!"

"Roger sir!" Sanders ran for the rocks blocking the far exit of the valley and bored his Magnesser drill into them.

Sao started after him, quickly realizing he wouldn't make it before the Madthunder escaped and blocked the path again. Could he shoot it? He wasn't in range yet. He'd just have to-

From above, AZ assault rifles blasted into the Madthunder's side. With no particle shield, it took the blasts front-on. "You're not going anywhere!" Eura exclaimed.

"Damn bird!" Sanders cried. "You can't finish me with those cannons!"

"That's what I'm for!" Sao replied, the Trinity Liger closing in.

"Shit!" Sanders tried for the rocks again. The Evoflyer's rifle fire repelled him.

"Photon Cutter!"

The Madthunder went down with a rumbling, low blast.

"Battle over! Battle over! The winner is… the Nova Team!"

"Hahahahahahahah!" Laughter pervaded the bar counter where the battle's participants sat. Cushioned black seats and gentle orange light on the polished tables made for as-different an environment as could be imagined from the afternoon's proceedings.

"Mr. Sanders, your team performed at an amazing level this afternoon, how is it that you've remained so unknown?"

"Uh, well, although we've known each other for quite some time," Sanders replied, more reflecting on than actually sipping the beer he'd been provided, "We only formally incorporated a couple months ago. We haven't been seeking out many battles."

The two reporters who'd stuck around (their accomplices having mostly left to write up detailed articles on the battle) nodded appreciatively as they typed into their tablets. "And where did you all meet?"

"Ummm. Captain?" Sanders looked over to Stoller, across the counter besides Sao – the two were absorbed in conversation. "Yes, we aren't going to comment on that at this time."

"C'mon Sanders! Have a drink for crap's sake!" Ryan nudged him, holding up his own half-downed beer. "Duncha drink?"

"Not much, I have to say."

"Ohhh boy have I got just the drinking game for you. Hey! Reporters! Who's up for a round?" Ryan turned to the two, who strained their faces considering the notion.

"He didn't look like the drinking type." Pierce said to Eura, who was seated next to Ryan.

"I didn't know he was." Eura smiled.

Ryan gestured to the reporters in the background. "Now repeat – Sao says saberlions sometimes stay to strafe." The reporters repeated perfectly. "Great job! You got it perfectly! Take a shot!"

Eura giggled.

"You should hang on to him dear." Pierce leaned. "A man like that isn't gonna stay single for long."

"Oh? Are you planning to-"

"Hell no! Men are far too tiring for me." Pierce laughed gulping down her cocktail. Eura giggled, then turned right to Ryan.

"Ryan!"

"Eeeeura?"

"I wanna play!"

"That's the stuff!" He said, putting his arm around her.

Pierce laughed, downing the rest of her glass and eying it like an enemy Warrior.

"Take mine Pierce." Stoller said from her left, passing over a glass of whiskey.

"Ah, thanks Cap-"

"Oh, you're not getting away that easy!" Sao proclaimed from Stoller's left – the end of the counter. "Bartender, get this man another whiskey!" The two chuckled as Sao took a sip of his Rum and Cola.

"You didn't answer me, Ensiné."

"Mm?"

"Your girl."

"Seein' her in a few days, if I don't get caught up with someone like you again." More chuckling, as the bartender set down a glass of amber whiskey.

"You have yet to tell me a single thing about her, looks, personality…"

"Amazing girl, you can't have her."

"Hahaha! You are drunk if you think I'm in the market." Stoller took a sip. "Fine. Suit yourself, but would you at least do the courtesy of telling me her name?"

"She's the future Mrs. Ensiné. That's all you need to know."

Subject: Re: Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian Sat Oct 27, 2012 11:53 pm

Dream State Zi
Part 10

"Battlefield scanned! Area set-up! The Crusaders Team versus the Nova Team! Battle mode 0922! Ready? FIGHT!"

Sao shaded his eyes as he looked out toward the horizon. He glimpsed the Houndsoldier dashing into the fray at one end of the field, saw the Evoflyer running in from another, and could glance the dust of the opposing team's two Zoids. He sighed and continued walking.

The ridge didn't actually provide a good view of the battle. There were gaps in the cliffs where flashes of combat shown through, but for the most part, only rising dust revealed the place, much less the victors, of the skirmishes to follow. Over and over he told himself that the battle was irrelevant. Ryan and Eura would fare fine. And he couldn't think of a more discreet time than now to meet her.

He arrived at the summit of the granite mountain and made a makeshift bench out of a discarded coolant tank lying nearby. He leaned back to stretch his arms. In the valleys ahead, he noted a distinct lack of fire. The teams were still searching for each other. Sighing, he put his arms down again.

He felt a hand beside him.

A hand hewn by a tough, traveling life, but smooth, warm, and with nails carefully trimmed. Her hand.

"Snuck up on me again, Alysia. Good to see you." He said, not looking at the woman he knew sat next to him. A boom rang in the distance. "Looks like they found each other too." Sao chuckled.

Alysia wrapped her fingers around Sao's left hand. Sensing that commenting on the battle wouldn't hold her attention, he looked over to her.

The girl from the picture on his desk had grown. Her hair looked darker than it used to, but it was still long, still red, and now tied back and out of her face. A black shoulder-plate now complimented her white top, tucked into trimmed black shorts.

Sao looked away again. "How's uh…"

"Your family wants you back." She said plainly, almost timidly.

"Heh. What else is new?"

"The company board wants you back."

"Oh?" Sao hardly batted an eyebrow.

"Only took two straight years of profit loss to show them that Ensiné Corp needs an Ensiné in charge."

"I don't want to be in charge. That's why I sold them the company."

"You think I didn't know that? You think I didn't tell them? They're convinced you're just playing politics." She sighed.

"It's all they understand. No surprise."

The battlefield had quieted down since the first engagement. Lots of dust in the air though – the Zoids were scoping each other out.

"I want you back." She said quietly. A new blast shook the battlefield.

"…Why?" Sao responded.

"Just how much have you spent in these last few months alone?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sao could feel Alysia turning to face him.

"Money, Sao. If I hadn't found those Lidiers, you would've bought a set yourself, just for that one battle, wouldn't you?"

"I gave them back to you! What's the problem?"

"Sao!" She clasped his arm. Sao looked back out of reflex. She wasn't angry. She wasn't confused. Sao couldn't place her look any more than he could tear himself from it. And his eyes were locked on hers.

Alysia looked down before she spoke. "You know how long it's been since you left home?"

"I've lost track."

"I haven't. 3 years, Sao, and what do you have to show for it?"

"I'm close! I'm closer than ever!"

"And how long have you been saying that? Lost track? Doesn't surprise me, it's been more than 3 years."

A barrage of cannon fire sent a cliffside tumbling. The rumble slowly faded into silence. Sao breathed deeply.

"If…" he stammered, "If I sell them, I'll have it. If I sell every Zoid I have, I'll need ten more battles – that'll be enough."

"Every Zoid? Including the Trinity?"

"Yes. Including the-" A roar in the background. The Houndsoldier – it flashed in Sao's mind as it ran the paths behind. It was no longer his to sell.

"…Including the Trinity." Sao finished.

"I know that look." She said pointedly.

"15. 15 Battles away."

Alysia sighed. "You always were a bad liar."

"It's true!"

"I'm sure part of it is."

"It's all true! It's just…" He turned aside, "I can't sell the Houndsoldier."

"Oh?"

"I… I gave it away."

"Gave it! To who?"

"…A good friend. He needed it." Sao slumped down. "He needed it…"

"Sao…?"

"I'm sorry…" He muttered. He covered his eyes. "I'm sorry Al."

"You should be. The Houndsoldier would cost at least 10 battles – you're about 20 from your goal."

"Not that." He took a shaky breath. "Well, that too. It's-" He paused, "I know it's not what I said… It's not what we agreed, but… I just need a little more time! I'll have it built, and I'll stop traveling, and… I'll be with you. Just like I promised." Silent tears flowed from his eyes.

"Sao..." He felt her arms around him. "…I don't care about it anymore, you know? I really don't." Sao lifted his head. "I was stupid back then."

"No! No you weren't. It was," he stopped himself, "It is perfectly reasonable to want me to stay with you…"

"No Sao. It isn't. I…" Now she paused, "I loved you Sao. I always did. But back then my view of love was stupid. It's taken me three years to realize it, but…obsessing over someone doesn't make you a couple. I was just another star-crossed lover back then." She paused. "You're so much more to me than that."

Sao slowly moved his hand to her face. She was crying too. She continued to speak in spite of herself, "When you proposed to me, I told you I wanted a man who would hold me at the center of his life. You wanted three years to build your stadium so you could devote yourself wholly to me. You sold off your father's company, your share of his land, everything that wasn't tied down in your house. And I was so… selfish… That I still didn't say yes to you. Not then."

She looked up at Sao. The couple's arms had worked into a light embrace, almost without their noticing. "I don't know how much more time I can give you, but when that time is up, I won't be leaving you. I'll be coming to you, because I won't be able to stay away from you any longer."

A massive rumble in the distance, and a buzz from the Judge Capsule. "Battle over! Battle over! The winner is… The Nova Team!"

Alysia let out a breath. "I guess that's your cue to go."

"The Dragoon's Nest can wait if it needs to."

"Are you still calling it that?" She outright laughed, "There's no apostrophe! It's a 'Dragoon Nest.'"

"Dragoon's Nest is… the name! It's a proper noun!" Sao responded nervously. Alysia sighed happily as she wrapped her arms around him.

The couple stood. " I got you something you know." Alysia responded. "For the Trinity."

"Well, I'm not gonna waste money on it. You can sell it to another one of your customers."

"It's a present you idiot!" She nudged him.

"Well, just hold it for me then." He rustled her hair.

"Hey! Hands off! You don't have to comb this!"

The two slowly separated. They took a few paces back but couldn't turn away.

"Don't get too lonely over there ok?" Alysia said.

"Heh." Sao smiled, as the Houndsoldier let off a howl in the distance. "No worries there."

"And that fake out! Even I didn't see that coming!" Ryan exclaimed.

"I got the idea from you!" Eura responded. "I thought that was the plan!"

The two finally reached the end of the hall and walked into the Dragoon's Nest cockpit. "What'd you think Sao?" Ryan called out.

"I knew you'd pull through." Sao responded from a reclining position on a sofa.

The console let out a set of beeps. Ryan walked up to look.

"Hey Sao, it's the Commission!"

"Put 'em through." Sao gestured, not getting up from his seat. The main screen lit up with the robotic Judge's face.

"Nova Team! Congratulations on your recent victory!"

"Thank you very much!" Ryan replied.

"A pleasure to have you judge!" Eura chimed in.

The Judge cleared his non-existent throat at this remark. "Furthermore, the Commission would like to extend their congratulations to Mr. Sao Ensiné for the anniversary of his birth."

"Sao, it's your birthday?" Heiden called out.

"Oh, you're the sort to hide your birthday are you?" Eura said snarkily. "I think this calls for some cake!"

"I second that idea!" Ryan replied.

Sao groaned and replied pointedly towards the screen. "I extend my thanks to the Commission for their congratulations. Is that all?"

"There is one more point of order."

"Well, go on." Sao rested his head on his arm.

"The Commission has received a request to battle the Nova Team in mode 0982, and-"

"I believe I have informed the Commission numerous times of my intention not to accept any requests in mode 0982. I maintain this intention today, decline the invitation, and ask that you not forward me requests in that dull excuse for a battle mode."

"The Commission is required to forward requests from any team in the S rank that agrees to the condition of negotiations with the requested team."

"Ah c'mon Sao!" Ryan called to him. "If they agree to negotiations, we can at least try to talk 'em into another mode."

"Can we do 2 on 2 again? That was fun!" Eura piped in.

"At least find out who it is!" Ryan finished, chuckling.

Sao sighed. "Fine, fine. If they agree to negotiations, we'll accept the call. Who wants a piece of the Nova Team?" Sao asked the Judge.

The Judge's response would change Sao's life forever.

"The Blitz Team!"

=The Match=

A light is shone swaying back and forth as the camera pans out to show Ryan Apollos sitting on a steel chair.

I've been salivating over this opportunity for months, not days and not weeks. Let me take you back to Ragnarok.

Clips of the matches flash across the screen

Where I dominated everything, and all I got at the end was the record for most eliminations in the Road to Valhalla match. No wins, no main event match at From The Ashes, no nothing. I still feel I was screwed against Marcus.

Static fills the screen for a few seconds

The next month I got my first opportunity at that belt at Heroes Also Die.

Clips of the Trip to Obilvion match flash across the screen

Once again I was a difficult opponent for the two I faced add to that I came within inches of becoming the World Champion, but it ended up being just that, inches short. And in the midst of that I stupidly thought that if I became friends with those fools the Human Highlight Reels I'd succeed in my mission. Only I became the fool myself in doing so.

Static fills the screen again

Then came time for our biggest pay-per view of the year, From The Ashes. And where was I?

Clips of Ryan Apollos vs Zlatan Jax flash across the screen

OPENING THE FRICKEN SHOW! It was the biggest embarrassment of my career. I had gone from main eventing one pay-per view in a match for the world title, to facing a nobody to open a pay-per view in just one fricken month. I was pissed off beyond belief and you know damn well as everyone else does I deserved better.

Once again static fills the screen

Next was Fallout where you and I faced each other as well as four other guys.

Clips of the Double Caged Horror Match flashed acrossed the screen

And once again, I got screwed! I wasn't pinned and I sure as hell never submitted! So why the fuck was I eliminated?! Because the ref decided I was passed out?! If I was gonna get screwed like that then I should have been handed this opportunity almost immediately after you won that match.

Clips of Stygian holding the title belt up celebrating the win flash across the screen

I shouldn't have had to defeat a pathetic excuse for a former-World Champion.

Clips of Ryan Apollos vs Chad Mason flash across the screen

That is almost as disrespecting as having me open a pay-per view that I should be among the main attractions!

Static fills the screen yet again

But you know what pisses me off? It's something the late Anna Stone said back before the From The Ashes. She said that to be World Heavyweight Champion or even #1 contender, someone would have to beat Stygian, aka you. What a load of bullshit! It's a stupid thing to say, no one should have to beat a single man, unless it's in an actual #1 contenders or championship match, just to have people say your the champion or the #1 contender. But, regardless of who's been duped into believing that lie, I'm gonna do it just so the fools will think that joke of an unwritten rule is still held true.

Apollos chuckles as he looks down for a second before looking back at the screen.

You may have a history of winning big matches, but I have a history of shocking the world. I've beaten those who I've had no business in beating. And I don't give a shit if I'm the underdog, that's when I'm at my best. And if you think you'll just waltz in and and highstep your way out of Violent Impulse as the World Champion. You're in for a rude awakening. Cause my mission will be accomplished on Sunday, and there isn't a goddamn thing you can do about it.

Static fills the screen on last time before it fades to black

Subject: Re: Ryan Apollos [vs.] Stygian Sun Oct 28, 2012 5:39 pm

What a Father Wants for his Little Girl

The Black and chrome Oldsmobile 442 with red LED Tron stripes slowly rolling down the neon-soaked Vegas strip is called the Black Dragon. It’s the only Oldsmobile 442 Stygian owns that he didn’t rebuild himself from the town up. After he won his first world title, he actually shelled out the cash to take it out to legendary West Cost Customs and have it professionally rebuilt. It’s an impressive machine. The black paint job is polished up and gleaming like a mirror; the chrome rims and bumpers even moreso; the red Tron lines stand out like glowing eyes in the bushes outside a haunted house. It’s an aggressive animalistic machine that seems to cut through the air. The powerful V8 rumbles so even at this low speed that the car seems to breathe like a predatory beast waiting to spring forth an end the life of its next meal.

As we go inside the car, we’re treated to a COPS sort of view. Outside, the car is 1970’s vintage Detroit, inside it’s a science fiction movie. The gages are all digital LED displays where the needles hover, pivoting in black voids to point at the proper number of whatever they measure. Additionally, they display their output in numbers on a small patch at the bottom of the gauge. The engine is about 165 degrees Fahrenheit, the car is moving at roughly 25.4 Miles per hour, the tachometer reads 2750 rpms and the fuel tank is at 87% of its capacity. The whole middle of the dashboard, where climate and radio controls typically are is all lights and touchscreen. Right now the radio, well isn’t it more technology-forward to call it the audio system? The audio system is currently off. A small screen in the center is a metalling looking black dragon emblem periodically turning over and back like a tossed coin. The climate control is set at 68 degrees. Stygian is at the helm as it were, driving the car. Lilith rides shotgun. Lilah sits in the back.

Stygian: Remind me when we get close, I can never remember it.

Lilah: Take a left at the Bellagio.

Stygian: I don’t know which one is the Bellagio.

Lilah: How can you not know the Bellagio?

Lilith: Because we’re not from Vegas.

Stygian: They all just look like gaudy Casinos to me. Each one looks like the next, looks like the last.

Lilah: Breaks my heart to hear you say that.

Lilith: Lilah, darling, you’re from here and you went to college here. You actually know Las Vegas. To everyone else, all we know about it is the pop cultural archetype of gambling, corruption and promiscuity.

Lilah: That and all anyone thinks that Vegas is all casinos, mob bosses and orgies.

Stygian: That’s what Lilith just…

Lilith puts a hand on his thigh to get his attention.

Lilith: Let it go, lover.

Stygian rolls his eyes and looks at Lilah in his mirror.

Stygian: How far are we from the Bellagio?

Lilah: About ten blocks.

Stygian: Then how far do we go after we turn?

Lilah: Two more blocks.

Stygian: Are you sure you want to do this, Lilah?

Lilah: No. I’m sure I don’t, but if dad hears I was in Vegas and didn’t stop to see him, I won’t hear the end of it. And I don’t need him bitching all through Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Lilith: That reminds me, it’s about time for my yearly attempted intervention from my mother. “Come back to the church, stop your evil ways.” Bunch of bullshit.

There’s an awkward silence for a few moments before Stygian talks again.

Stygian: It’s not too late; I can find any place to shoot this promo. I don’t need your dad’s VIP room.

Lilah: No, I’ll do it. I need to see him. If nothing else it’ll keep him from trying to show up drunk at Thanksgiving.

Lilith: With whatever new concubine he’s fished out of the most recent high school’s graduating class.

Stygian: Half the time he doesn’t wait for them to graduate.

Lilah: It’s damn creepy when your dad shows up with a girl younger than you telling you that she might be your “new mom”.

Lilith: How old was wife number four?

Lilah: I think she was 22.

Lilith: Sheesh.

Stygian: And how long were they married?

Lilah: Two months?

Lilith sighs, turning to face Lilah.

Lilith: I don’t like the way he treats you. He talks to you like you’re still 15.

Lilah: I’ll get over it. I don’t like the way he treats us.

Stygian: Like a man who thinks his strip club is a private dating service has any room to talk about anyone else’s relationships.

Lilith: The guy thinks monogamy is a type of wood.

Lilah: Guys, can we cool it? He’s still my dad, y’know.

Stygian: I like your mom and John better.

Lilith: Jason, hold your tongue. Lilah’s right, it’s her father, regardless of what we think of the man.

Stygian: Alright, alright. Hey, is that the Bellagio?

Lilah: It is, turn left.

The Black Dragon (that car, and come to think of it, the man) pulls up outside The Snake Charmer. Classy fucking name for a strip club, no? If you knew the proprietor…well, you are about to meet him. It’s fairly standard as far as strip club exteriors go. Black brick façade, tinted windows with “SNAKE CHARMER” laser-etched in a custom serpentine font. The same font is repeated on the dull, humming neon sign overhead. It too reads “Snake Charmer” in the kind of gaudy neon green reserved for 80s hair band Poison, or IWF administrators in the chat box. The car idles for a few seconds before dying.

The next view is from inside the club. The door swings open as Stygian pushes it in and proceeds the ladies into the club, so he can hold the door for them. It’s only now that one gets a look at the three of them and their attire. Lilith is wearing skin tight jeans and a black sleeveless corset top, with dark purple trim an ribbing. Lilah is wearing a blck skirt that comes about halfway down her thigh with a black and pink top with a solver broken hart done in some kind of sparkled paint. Stygian is dressed in a black superman t-shirt and acid washed jeans. He follows the three of them to a small enclave just inside the club where a large man occupies a leather seat and a black steel lockbox.

Door Man: Alright, that’s two ladies and a guy, cover charge comes to about…

Suddenly the man looks up and catches Lilah’s smirk.

Door Man: Oh Jesus, Amber, I didn’t recognize you! How you doin’ baby girl?

The man stands and gives the brunette a big hug. Now that he’s standing one can fully appreciate the size of the man. He’s about 6’6” and close to 350 pounds. He makes Stygian look small, if not short. Lilah returns the hug out of self-defense, less the large man crush her. He finally turns her loose and looks at Stygian and Lilith.

Door Man: Jason, Tina…

Stygian gives a small salute, and Lilith smiles.

Lilah: How are you Jerry?

Door Man: Ah your old man’s a pain in my ass.

He laughs.

Door Man: The wife has him spyin’ on me.

Lilah: You and Maria have been married for 35 years, what’s she worried about.

Door Man: Glutens and trans fats, whatthefuckever those are. Bustin’ my balls cause the doc says I gotta lower my tryglisterine.

Stygian: Triglycerides?

Door Man: Yeah, somea that bullshit. Always breakin’ my friggin balls about that shit now. I lived 58 years without no doctor tellin’ me not to eat cannolis. Now the wife has Butch hidin’ shit in the back so I can’t eat none of it. And no coffee neither? How the fuck and I supposed to be a door man at a friggin strip club with no coffee. If I can’t have no coffee, no alcohol and no cannolis why the fuck am I tryin to live so long anyway?

All three of them laugh, which seems to perturb the big door man all the more.

Door Man: It ain’t funny. I ain’t got nothing to live for no more.

Lilith: You’ll think of something, Jerry.

Door Man: I hope so. I’m an Italian and I can’t eat no Italian food no more.

Another round of chuckles before Lilah puts a hand on his shoulder gently.

Lilah: Where’s dad?

Door Man: Butch is in the VIP lounge. He’s expecting you three.

Lilah: Alright. See you later Jerry.

Door Man: Yeah, see youse guys later.

The strip club is...actually a lot classier than you’d expect from the entendre-laden sobriquet. The seats are all black steel and red leather; big roomy booths line the perimeter of the room with the seats done in pleated red leather like a 50’s diner. All the usual trappings are also there, of course. Low lights, blaring music. Four small stages in the corners with stainless steel poles extending all the way to the ceiling. A huge stage in the middle of the room with a pole in the center and poles at the corners. At any one time, on a busy Saturday night like this one, there are as many as ten dancers going at one time. All the waitresses moving about with trays are also topless. Not censored. There’s a fucking video disclaimer for a reason.

Lilah leads the way through the club to a huge glass double door in the back with the kinds of guys you might expect to be guarding such a place. They’re huge, they’re black. They’re dressed in black. They both have earpieces in their ears, and Glocks in shoulder holsters. Their stern countenances soften upon sighting the boss’ daughter, though.

Big Black Dude: Amber! Butch said y’all were comin’ by tonight!

Lilah: Jerry said he was back here.

Other Big Black Dude: He is. Said you guys were shooting some kinda video in one of the private rooms?

Lilah: One of our wrestling things.

Big Black Dude: Oh yeah. You’re fighting that skunk-headed dude tomorrow night.

Other Big Black Dude: Thanks for the tickets by the way.

Stygian laughs.

Stygian: “Skunk-headed.” I might use that.

Big Black Dude: Skank-ass nigga looks like he couldn’t afford a full dye job.

Stygian: Sadly I think he had to pay extra to get it that way.

Big Black Dude: For real?

Stygian nods.

Other Big Black Dude: Man ya’ll white people! Just…white people!

Lilith: Some of us are sane.

Other Big Black Dude: Oh, y’all cool. You’re friends of Amber, you’re down. But that dude dying half his hair? Shit’s crazy, yo.

Lilah: Alright guys, enough laughing at Ryan Apollos hair.

Lilith: Darling, you can’t laugh at that enough.

Lilah: Yeah, but still, let’s go see dad, alright.

Big Black Dude: Oh yeah, Butch is in there, go on.

The big black dudes open the doors and out terrific trio steps into the VIP lounge. It’s dimly lit from lights hidden where the walls join the ceilings. The music from the club is quieter in here, froma higher quality sound system. Plush couches and chairs surround small individual stages with their own polls. On a dais at the back of the room sits three couches forming a semicircle around a slightly larger stage with four poles at it. Stygian, Lilith and Lilah move through the relatively-quiet, intimate room.

Everyone knows a guy like Butch Reed. Butch really should be in quotes, it’s not his real name. He tries not to let people know his real name so they won’t recognize it when it comes up in the legal section of the local papers, and it does frequently. But he’s been a fixture in the Vegas club scene for three decades. He’s the kind of guy who wears a dress shirt with an open bow tie sticking out from under the unbuttoned collar. He also the kind of guy who wears a suit jacket and jeans. He’s the kind of guy who has the spiked, gelled hair and stubble beard of a douche in his early-20’s made even douchier because he’s in his mid-50’s. He’s seated on the couch on the left of the stage with a scantily-clad blonde under each arm who wouldn’t equal his age if they added them together. He stands up as his daughter and her companions approach. He gives them a big smile as he greets them, hugging Lilah.

Butch Reed: Amber! Sweetheart, good to see you.

He gives a more polite hug to Lilith, and shakes hands with Stygian.

Butch Reed: Tina, Jason, good to see you too.

Stygian: If I thought you actually meant that…

Lilah: Jason…

Butch Reed: Just as congenial as ever, I see.

Lilith: Don’t you two start.

Stygian: Right.

Butch Reed: Yeah, okay. How about some drinks! Midnite!

He calls out to a woman roving through the room carrying a tray. She’s equal parts silicone, spray tan, glitter and peroxide. More like a caricature of a woman than the real thing. Of course, no part of her is actually real anyway. She stands, topless and attentive to her boss.

Butch Reed: Bring us…

He points at each person as he orders their drink.

Butch Reed: Two Appletinis, His “dates”, a Purple Rain, Lilith, a strawberry daiquiri, Lilah, Blue Label neat, Stygian and a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred. Presumably for himself.

The young, spray tanned, silicone-enhanced beauty dutifull trots off on her light-up plexiglass heels to retrieve the drinks.

Stygian: James Bond’s drink, huh?

Butch Reed: Because there’s no cliché involved in scotch straight up, right?

Stygian: Not if you actually drink it Butch.

Lilah: Why can’t you two just get along?

Butch Reed: Honey, we are getting along.

Stygian: Yeah, he’s not in traction…

Butch Reed: …and I haven’t had T-Bone and Ronnie drag him out and kick the shit out of him!

Stygian: See, two peas in a pod.

Butch Reed: No, I want my own pod.

Lilith: Same tree?

Stygian: Probably not.

Butch Reed: I’d go same yard.

Stygian: I can live with that.

As the drinks come, Butch sees to seating arrangements. He has those two huge black dudes come in and move the couches on the dias around so that two of them are facing an the stage, which is empty for now anyway, is ignored. Butch sits in the middle of the two young, young girls, and Stygian sits between Lilith and Lilah.

Lilah: So who are the girls?

Butch Reed: Let’s just call them Sugar and Spice.

Stygian: Great.

Butch Reed: Well I didn’t have the superior intellect to come up with Lilith and Lilah.

Lilah: DAD!

Lilith: JASON!

Lilah: Do we have to separate you two?

Butch Reed: No…no, I’ll be good. It’s good to see you, sweetheart.

Lilah: Thanks dad.

Butch Reed: So what is this about using one of my VIP rooms?

Lilah: That was my idea. Jason has to film this thing for work.

Butch Reed: Oh. Yes, you said something about costumes, did you need to borrow some?

Lilith: No, Butch, we brought our own.

Butch Reed: Why am I not surprised with you two girls. He takes a quick sip of his drink. Especially you, Tina. You do love playing dress-up.

Lilith: According to our staunchest detractors, Lilah and I dress like strippers anyway, so I don’t know if it qualifies as costuming.

Butch Reed: Hey, flaunt it while you’ve got it, because age and gravity gets us all in the end.

Lilith: I wish my parents felt that way.

Butch Reed: I always told Amber I didn’t care how she dressed as long as everything was covered and her clothes stayed on.

Lilah: Yeah, but you always made me take condoms on dates. That was kinda embarrassing.

Lilith: I actually find it refreshing.

Butch Reed: You didn’t wind up knocked up or with some god-awful disease.

Lilah: Mom always thought it sent the wrong message.

Butch Reed: Your mother was naïve. I remember what she and I got away with in High School. I’m a realist. I figure you’re smarter and sneakier than I am because you had to come up with better tricks than I had, cause I knew to look for my old tricks. Instead of burying my head in the sand I decided to prepare you.

Stygian: That’s actually not a bad stance to take.

Butch Reed: Remember that, you have kids of your own sometime.

Everyone kind of nods and sips their drinks for a few moments.

Butch Reed: So when were you guys gonna film this thing?

Stygian: We can wait til you close no need to disrupt your business.

Butch Reed: Jase, I can get by without one VIP room for a night, even a Saturday night. Why don’t you guys go flim now, then I’m taking everyone out for dinner, ro breakfast, or whatever you want to call it at 4am.

Lilah: I thought you closed at 2?

Butch Reed: Well yeah, but by the time everyone counts out and I put the money in the safe? It’s about 4. That gives you guys about four and a half hours, can you get this filmed by then?

Lilith: We should be able to.

Lilith drinks what’s left of her tall purple drink and hands the glass to Midnite, who’s keeping an eye on the boss’ party.

Lilith: Let’s go get ready. C’mon.

Lilith grabs Lilah by the hand and pulls her off the couch. After they’re gone, Butch checks his watch and looks to the girls on either side of him.

Butch Reed: Ladies, I think you’re due on the stage.

The girls nod and take off silently, leaving Butch and Stygian staring at one another. Stygian finishes his drink and looks around.

Stygian: Well…I should probably…

Butch cuts him off.

Butch Reed: Sit for a while, Jason.

He turns to the topless waitress and gives her his empty martini glass. Stygian hands off his own empty glass.

Butch Reed: Bring us another Blue Label and another Vodka Martini, would you honey? Thanks.

Butch leans back lazily in his couch, Stygian sits hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees.

Stygian: Is this going to be another lecture, Butch. Because we’ve covered these bases many times. You’re not going to scare me, Butch. I don’t care which member of the Sopranos co-signed your lease.

Butch Reed: Jason, I know you’re not scared of me, and you’re not scared of my friends. And maybe you shouldn’t be. I hear you’re some kind of genius, I’ve seen you in the ring, and Amber says you can shoot the dots off a dice at 300 yards with an iron-sights pistol. I get it. And I admit, I haven’t always been the nicest to you, or to Tina. I admit that.

Stygian: Butch, are you sick? Is there something…is this going to be one of those nights where someone found something on your x-ray and we all wind up holding hands and crying and watching The Joy Luck Club at the end of the night?

Butch Reed: Nah, kid. None of that bullshit.

The drinks come, an each man takes theirs. Stygian leans back across from Butch and spreads his other arm across the couch.

Butch Reed: I ain’t been the best man, Jase. I was a lousy husband, and a shit father. Christ, I had my sixteen year old girl in a tube top and a mini skirt serving drinks to wise guys and thugs in my old joint. It’s been hard to stomach a lot of things. It was hard when Stephanie left me and took Amber. When she married John, that was a shit day too, especially since that man was a better father to my little girl than I ever could be. But you know what, I’m gettin’ old, Jase. My little girl is 26. I just turned 57. I’m gonna blink and I’ll be 60.

Stygian: Is there a point to all this, Butch?

Butch Reed: Yeah. You just turned 30, right?

Stygian: Just turned 31, actually.

Butch Reed: So you know that feeling when you click over another decade on your life, right?

Stygian: Better than I’d care to admit.

Butch Reed: Well, I’ve got that coming up. And when that happens, I’d like it to be a little happier than it’s been in a while. I’ve never cared about your…arrangement…shall we say with Amber and Tina.

Stygian: I find that hard to believe, you’ve never had one good thing to say to me. Hell, if Tina wasn’t a woman and you didn’t maintain a façade of being something of a gentleman, you’d probably have run her down too.

Butch Reed: That’s fair to say, Jason. It’s also fair to say that I was wrong. I can admit that. I…I’m a lousy father, but I want the same thing every dad does. I want my little girl to be happy. When she told me she was in with a married couple, I thought, well, what everyone probably thinks when they hear about you. I thought my daughter was the odd man out. You guys were just using her for a little fun on the side. I thought she was getting me back for my bullshit, you know, they say girls do that. I thought it was a phase. But this is going on three years now?

Stygian: Something like that.

Butch Reed: She’s really a part of your lives. You two have included her, made her feel like she was just as important as you or Tina is to one another.

Stygian: She is, Butch.

Butch Reed: Do you love Amber? I mean, the way you love Tina?

Stygian: Yes.

Butch Reed: No hesitation, huh?

Stygian: It’s the way we are, Butch.

Butch Reed: And does Tina love her?

Stygian: You’d have to ask her.

Butch Reed: She’s your wife, what do you think?

Stygian: I think it’s safe to say she does, yes.

Butch Reed: You know…you’re a better man than the kinds of guys she’d date when she came here for summers.

Stygian: I think most of them were to get back at you.

Butch Reed: Yeah, I figured.

Butch takes a long sip of his martini.

Butch Reed: I can’t wrap my head around what the three of you do, but…you guys are faithful to her, which is more than I ever was to any woman. You guys care for her. You know, who the hell am I to say shit? My last two wives haven’t been half my age.

Stygian: Is this your way of giving us your blessing, Butch?

Butch Reed: You know, I guess it is.

The two of them drink up in an awkward silence.

Butch Reed: You and I, we can try to get along.

Stygian: I’m willing if you are.

Another pause where both men sip their drinks.

Butch Reed: Not all the time.

Stygian: Of course not.

Butch Reed: Cause that’d be weird.

Stygian: Completely.

Butch Reed: Alright. Why don’t you guys go film your thing. I’ve set aside Room 3 for you. Amber should know where it is.

Stygian: Yeah, I should go find them.

Stygian stands, drinking down the last of his scotch and hands off the empty glass to the girl’s tray. Butch stands and digs into his pocket and digs out a silver key ring. He negotiates a small brass key off the interlocking ring and hands it to Stygian.

Stygian: What’s this?

Butch Reed: There’s a small lock box mounted on the wall just inside the door. It’s the main interface for the camera system. Pull the plugs.

Stygian: What for?

Butch Reed: You’re going to be in a locked room with two beautiful women dressed in next to nothing, and you’re still young enough that you don’t need Viagra? Jason, I’m not stupid. But just because I know what’s going on, that doesn’t mean I want footage of it happening to my little girl. I don’t want to risk running across it, and I don’t want any of my staff seeing it.

Stygian: I think Jerry would have to kill them if they did.

Butch Reed: Jerry’s been keeping guys in line around her for a long time.

Stygian: I’ve heard the stories. Quit breaking his balls about the glutens.

Butch Reed: God, now he’s trying to enlist you? Go film, Jase. We’ll go out to dinner later.

Stygian and Butch walk off, descending the dais and walking out through the glass doors into the club.

The private rooms at the Snake Charmer are as lavishly appointed as the VIP room, but with the classical feel of the main club. There’s a plush red couch at the back of the room, with six black leather chairs lining the room. The red carpet looks soft and smooth, like crushed velvet. Stygian sits in the center of the couch. He’s gotten his Tron-lined trench coat and the IWF World Title since he left the company of Lilah’s father, but, he is otherwise dressed the same. The girls have embraced their location. They’re both dressed in lace up corsets with sweetheart necklines; Lilith’s is purple with black laces, Lilah’s is a deep magenta-like pink with black laces. They’ve both matched their corsets with tap panties, fishnet stocking and black thigh-high high-heeled boots. They sit up on the arms of the couch, with thenr legs crossed and their feet resting on the unoccupied cushions. Stygian runs his fingertips lazily over the main plate of the IWF World Heavyweight Title Belt.

Stygian: Ryan, Ryan, Ryan…my you’ve been quiet. Where have you been? Hmm? Training for the biggest match of your life? Oh, I hope so. But knowing you…you’ve probably been holed up somewhere, drinking Mountain Dew while your half-assed do-it yourself dye job dries out, writing bad anime fan fiction. You really should be worrying about me. Half-assed Zoids fan fiction isn’t going to win you a world title. You’ll have plenty of time for that after you’ve dealt with the business of wrestling. Wrestling, that’s why we’re here.

Lilith: I think the fumes from his painted-on blonde are getting to him!

Lilah: Or the dye has leaked into his brain.

Stygian: You know what I expected Ryan? I expected a little more respect out of you. But all you’re doing is playing the same song everyone else has who was in that match. Everyone else who was in the six pack challenge bitched and moaned about this or that. It was too many guys. It wasn’t fair. And here you come with “how did I get eliminated?” Poor misguided Ryan Apollos. So many ill-advised choices. First, that hair. Have I mentioned the hair?

Lilah: Twice.

Lilith: Really though, you can go off on that for a good hour and it wouldn’t stop being funny.

Stygian: Seriously, man. With that hair I have to ask…which one of the Holograms are you? Are you indeed Jem herself?

Lilith: Oh god, Jem! I was such a Jem girl when I was a kid!

Lilah: Ohmigod me too!

Stygian: Well, I’m sorry to crush your spirits girls, but Jem had a double mastectomy, got some hormone therapy, shoved a banana in her pants and turned into Ryan Apollos.

Lilith: I think I can’t ever watch that show again, now…

Lilah: Thanks a lot Jase!

Lilith: On the other hand, I’m forever going to imagine Ryan Apollos talking in Jem’s autotuned singing voice.

Lilah: I still think we’re getting screwed in this trade.

Stygian: You know Ryan, I want to thank you. You see, you opened this door. I was actually trying to stay on the light side of this new leaf I seem to have turned over. I was being polite, I was talking you up. But then you went and bitched and moaned and cried…and you did it with that haircut? I don’t know what takes more balls, slapping me in the face, or walking down the street with that fucking haircut. You know, I didn’t listen to what you said much, but I got the gist of it. I heard the high points. Ryan Apollos has been looked over. Ryan Apollos has been passed over. Ryan Apollos deserves more. Ryan Apollos has earned more. Ryan Apollos isn’t a curtain jerker. Ryan Apollos is main event material. You know what, Ryan? You know what you never hear me do? You never hear me bitch. I never complain about what I think I’ve earned. I never sit around an complain cause I got passed over. I went from being the top guy in a successful promotion, one of their most dominant champions ever, to jerking the curtain on Pay Per View with Tim Patrick while the announcers raked my name through the mud saying that I wasn’t shit cause I hadn’t done it here. Do you know what I did about that? Hmm? I fought Chuck Matthews for a draw. I beat Dan Alexander. I took the High Impact Title from Tyson Rowle. I had a knock down drag out no DQ brawl with James Shark. I retired Brandon Macdonald.

Stygian: Just what the fuck have you earned, Ryan Apollos? Because I was going to be nice about this, but you opened the door, you disrespectful, whining, crying Jem and the Holograms-headed bitch! You talk about earning this and being insulted by that. Let’s see the fucking body count, motherfucker! Corey Bull, Steve Relic, Kevin Kayfabe, Matt Thomas, Steel Angel, Dan Alexander, Anna Stone, James Shark, Chuck Matthews, Corey Casey…you want to know how I earned my spot? You want to know what I did to get into main events? To get world title opportunities and win five of the motherfuckers? I didn’t win a few matches and bitch. I reached up the ladder, grabbed whoever was above me by the throat and threw them off. You seem to think this business is some kind of polite meritocracy? No. We’re the god damn necromongers from Chronicles of Riddick: you keep what you kill.

Stygian: Do you know why Robbie Hart went through me on his way to the title? Do you know why Anna Stone tried? You simple stupid son of a bitch…because I’m the best. Because if you want to win a world title, if you want to keep it, then you have to go through me. If you can beat me? You belong. If you can’t? Well, what happened to Chad Mason’s world title? Hmm? The reason Anna and Robbie both set themselves on a path through me is because they grasped something that seems to elude your primitive, and probably two-toned cerebral cortex: because if you’re at the top of this company long enough, eventually you’re gonna see me on your dance card. Robbie decided to get it out of the way early, so did Anna, god rest her soul it didn’t work out so well for her. But they both realized that the road to the top eventually goes through me.

Stygian: You keep what you kill around here Apollos, and you don’t seem to get that. This is the new order in IWF. It isn’t what Chuck Matthews and Corey Casey are trying to do with their knitting circles and bingo groups, it’s a simple question of do you want something badly enough to take it from the man who has it. And when it comes down to it, you never have. You didn’t want it badly enough at trip to oblivion. You didn’t want it badly enough in the Double Cage Horror. That is why you got eliminated. You weren’t good enough, and you weren’t hungry enough. You didn’t come down to that ring with the intent to win, you came down the same way everyone else did, lamenting that you had to go through five other guys to get the job done. You were all pissing and moaning that this was too hard and it was beneath you to have to do it. You know what I noticed about fights? If five guys are standing around with a tissue in one hand, a security blanket in the other crying for their momma’s tit and one guy comes down ready to kill the rest of them and eat their hearts? That guy usually wins, and that guy did win. That guy is going to win again at Violent Impulse. Sin City, and while Lust is usually my favorite sin? This time I’m going to commit a new one. You know, growing up in the Catholic Church I always heard about “original sin” and I wondered what the hell that was? You go to the confessional on “original sin” day and you say “forgive me father, for I have sinned, I slept with my neighbor’s wife.” And does he roll his eyes and say, “heard it, I want an original sin today!” Oh shit…”forgive me father for I have sinned, I poked a badger with a spoon.” And the padre says, “that’s a new one on me! Five ‘Hail Marys’ and four ‘Hello Dollys’ for you.”

Lilith and Lilah laugh and Stygian shakes his head.

Stygian: I think your hair is an original sin, now that I think of it…but no. I usually try to find the newest ways to commit the oldest sins…but Sunday in Sin City, I’m going to an old standby. Lust? There’ll be plenty of time for that when the three of us celebrate my waling out of the MGM Grand, typically reserved as hallowed grounds of Boxing and MMA, as the man who is still the IWF World Heavyweight Champion. Lust is my favorite sin and I’ll get to it in due course, but Sunday I’m going with an old traditional: WRATH. Because you’ve pissed me off, Ryan. It’s not the hair…

Lilah: Well it’s not just the hair.

Stygian: It’s not the hair at all, I don’t give two shits about the hair.

Lilith: Ironically I think that’s what he gave the stylist as payment.

Lilah: You might not be offended by that hair, but I am.

Stygian: Enough about the damn hair.

Lilah: You can’t possibly say enough about that hair!

Lilith: I think Jason means he’s done talking about it.

Lilah: Oh.

Stygian: Ryan, you’re going to see what happens when I get pissed off. Because I am pissed off. I tried to take the high road with you, then you recorded the most whiny, self-indulgent pity party since Amanda Todd grabbed a sharpie and some flash cards and set it to some coffee house guitarist recording his warmups.

Lilah: Too soon…

Lilith: I don’t think he cares.

Stygian: But you know what Ryan? You aren’t going to have to ask anymore why when anyone aims for the top of this company, they think that road needs to go through me. Because I’m going to show you. I’m going to give you a lesson in respect. Respect for your betters. Respect for your world heavyweight champion. I’m going to teach you, because obviously nobody has up until this point. So dry your tears and get ready for a beating of biblical proportions.

Lilah: What do you mean, "biblical"?

Lilith: What he means is Old Testament; real wrath of God type stuff.

Stygian: Exactly.

Lilith: Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!

Stygian: Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes...

Lilith: The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice!

Lilah: Dogs and cats living together?

Lilith: Mass hysteria!

Stygian: You’re going to lose, you were always going to lose. The last time I addressed you I said I didn’t know what it was you were missing, and I said I couldn’t tell you. I guess I was wrong. Because I can tell you exactly what you need. EXACTLY! You don’t have the heart to be a world heavyweight champion. You don’t have it where it counts. You sit there with your hand out and this stupid look on your face saying, “when’s gonna be my time, Lord? When, Lord, when?” This bullshit you’re scooping up and spoon-feeding us about you being overlooked and humiliated? It’s just that. Bullshit. You’re bitching and moaning because you didn’t have the balls to take what you wanted. And you won’t grow them in the next 20 hours before that bell rings, Ryan. This pity story? It’s vulgar. This is the basest sentiment. This is a child at prayer. This is a pimply faced geek doing Alison Williams’ homework because she said he might let him touch her boobs if he does. I have never seen this level of disrespect for me and my accomplishments. Not from Corey Casey, who blames me for ending his career. Not from Alexander Remington who has sworn to end my career. Not even from Dan Alexander, whom I detest more than any man in this sport. You have sown your seeds at a depth further than any have ever dared to against me. And when the time comes to reap what you’ve sewn? Don’t worry. You won’t have any problems reaching down to pick that bitter fruit. Because when I am done with you, you are going to crawl away from me like a serf who is unworthy to stand in his king’s presence. Because I am your king, and this belt is my crown. You will bend the knee, Ryan Apollos. After Sunday, you will BOW…DOWN! The real power, the real control of IWF won’t be found in the articles of Bad Company’s incorporation. The true king doesn’t need an Empire. I’m the power in IWF. I control IWF. This is my world, and you’ve earned a place in it alright. You can lace my boots and shine my belt with I’m done with you. At least then you’ll get to touch it. You say you’ve earned things you haven’t been given? I’m going to give you everything you’ve earned and then some and you can keep the change. Maybe you can spend it on a whole bottle of hair dye next time.

Lilah pumps her fist.

Lilah: Yes!

Lilith: You knew he had one more hair joke.

Stygian: It’s not just your hair that’s a joke, Ryan, it’s you. And I’m gonna be your punchline.

Stygian smiles and the girls slide off the arms of the couch to kneel on the couch on either side of him. They stay there as the camera cuts.

» Stygian [vs.] Robbie Hart [vs.] Steel Angel [vs.] Ryan Apollos [vs.] Jack Savage [vs.] Chuck Matthews
» Ryan Apollos
» Ryan Apollos
» Ryan Apollos [vs.] Zlatan Jax
» Stormingraven [vs.] Ryan Apollos