Stygian [vs.] Robbie Hart [vs.] Steel Angel [vs.] Ryan Apollos [vs.] Jack Savage [vs.] Chuck Matthews

How Do You Kill Superman?

Stygian: [Voiceover on Black Screen] Alright gentlemen…how do you kill Superman?

The camera fades in to a red superman logo, and a man humming the overture from John Williams’ classic “Superman Theme”. You know it, you’ve hummed or sang along with it yourself more than a few times in your life. Da dadadada DA…DA…DAAAAAAA. Da dadadada DOT DA-DA… You know it. Pull back to reveal that this red Superman shield rests on a black t-shirt on the broad, muscular chest of the Real IWF World Heavyweight Champion. He sits in a high-backed swivel chair behind a large, polished mahogany desk in an office somewhere indiscernible, surrounded by beautiful polished and lacquered hardwood. The IWF Title sits on the desk in front of him. Flanking him on either side is Lilith in a dark purple tank top with a lighter purple glittery Superman logo on it and on the other side Lilah in a pink tank top with a black glittery Superman logo. Stygian leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and canting his head to the side quizzically.

Stygian: Not such an easy question is it? You have to face it down now, don’t you? I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re thinking because I can hear it now. There are five of us. It’s an elimination match. We can gang up on him. If you were smart, you would. But I know it now. Each and every one of you has too much pride. It would make sense for all five of you to unite against me but you will not. You won’t do it because each of you has your own ego, your own score to settle with me. Much like Superman villains, you all have your own axe to grind with me. You all have something to prove at my expense. I’ve beaten four of you, and done it cleanly and precisely with no doubt. One of you sat impotently and watched me run over and through their company; powerless to stop me and one of you has beaten me. You made your name at my expense. And I have commended you for that. But all of you, each and every one of you can’t look past the perceived boost you think your career would get by being the man to eliminate me from this contest. Or you can’t look past some perceived slight you think I accomplished in defeating you before. All of you would stand to gain something by being the one to pin my shoulders to the mat and eliminate me from this match. And every one of you to a man would sell your soul to be the man who does it. To be the one who gets the 1-2-3 and sends me home broken-hearted. You all want it, and you want it so badly that you’ll take your eye off the prize to try and get it.

Stygian: In this way you are destined, as all assembled cabals of villains are, to fail. You will start out with the common goal, that of winning the IWF World Title. You will all have that in your hearts to begin with. Like the Injustice League or the Legion of Doom, you’ve assembled to acquire a great prize and to pries it from the hands of Superman if needs be. You’re all focused on the score, the goal, the loot…the unified IWF World Heavyweight title. And if the five of you worked together, if you forgot about your differences for one second! You could kill me and then fight amongst yourselves for it. But you won’t. Like every one of these little teams that come together, and you guys aren’t even a team, this would be at best an alliance of opportunity, it is doomed to fail. That is assuming you ever unite in the common goal in the first place. But let’s assume you do…

Lilith: Oh, are you going to do story time?

Lilah: I love story time!

Lilith: As do I.

Lilah: Your idea of story time is having the audio book of 50 Shades going and using it as instructions.

Lilith shakes her head.

Lilith: We only tried that once, until we realized how utterly tame and boring that book was.

Lilah: Tame?

Lilith: Please, I was doing 50 Shades to my college roommate before anyone even thought of the book.

Lilah: The sequels are better.

Lilith smirks sidelong at Lilah long enough to make the brunette uncomfortable.

Lilah: What?

Lilith: All these years of the two of us trying to get under your skin, and a woman going through a midlife crisis writing a Twilight fan-fic finally lights your kinky little fire.

Lilah looks down and blushes.

Lilah: Shut up, Lil. It’s not funny.

Lilith: It’s cute…in a Lilah sort of way.

Lilah looks up, still flushed red.

Lilah: It is?

Lilith: I find it utterly charming that there are fetish stores being built in Lilah Land as we speak.

Stygian: Ladies? May I?

Lilith: Go head.

Stygian swivels to his left, slightly blocking out Lilah and putting his feet on the desk.

Stygian: Let’s assume all of you can block this out. You can resist the temptation of your own egos and actually focus on the goal instead of, as so many put it “slaying the dragon”. Why is it all of you are in this match, hmm? It’s not about becoming champion. This isn’t about the title, not to so many of you. For most of you this is about something more. I struggle to figure out which villains you all fill in this role. The scope, the casting, the motives. Do I limit myself to Superman Villains? Certainly through the Justice League perhaps all villains are open to my scope. After all, anyone who is everyone has clashed with Superman at one point or another, in one form or another. But do I lose the metaphor if I wander too far afield? Let’s see what I can do…

Stygian: Where should I start? Out of respect, I’ll start with the World Heavyweight Champion. Well, the man who’s half of it anyway. Robbie Hart. We’ve done this dance before, have we not? Well, no. Last time you and I squared off, you tap-danced on my skull. One kick. I realize there was another one, and believe me, I’m not happy about that. The second one, I’ll be honest with you, you didn’t need the second one. I was done after the first one. The match should have been stopped. I’m still contemplating legal action against IWF over that not happening. Not because I’ve suffered any damage. More because as Corey Casey has taken over more and more, as he’s gotten drunk with power and seemingly obsessed with ridding IWF of me…I would do just about anything to drag IWF’s name through the mud. Because in all of this, Corey Casey is Lex Luthor. I’ll get to him in time, but for now let me put it succinctly: he is the man who wishes he could be me. Since he can’t, he is a man who wishes to destroy me. He has fought me, and found himself severely lacking, so now he uses power, influence and schemes to strike at me through those more physically capable than he.

Stygian: But I would not dream of slighting the IWF World Heavyweight Champion. Respect should be paid to you Robbie. Unlike everyone else who has held that belt this year, you can say something NONE of them have…you actually beat me. In fact, Robbie, if it wasn’t solely to grind Corey’s gears and remind him of his failure?

Stygian pats his copy of the IWF World Title.

Stygian: I would actually stop carrying this. I will say now what I have refused to say about any other pretender all summer: you my friend are the real IWF World Heavyweight Champion. You beat me. The latest in a short line of people to do that. I can name them. Jaci Sovereign…funny story, Alex was dating her for about a year. I wonder if it eats him up that his ex could beat me and he won’t even step in the ring with me. Again, I digress. Who are you, Robbie? Where do you fit into this sordid superhero tale? I like to think of you as Hank Henshaw. Hank, better known as the Cyborg Superman, had his consciousness uploaded into a cyborg shell. He pretended to be Superman and he blames Superman for the misfortunes of his life. Sort of like how you must blame me. Hell, you do blame me. You said it yourself when you came out to the ring to challenge me to our match at Heroes Also Die. Like Henshaw, you had this misguided diatribe about how your career stalled and floundered because it was all my fault. Because I debuted hot and burned down everything put in front of me while you struggled to collect meaningful wins. Somehow your inconsistency in the ring and your undisciplined choices outside of it were my fault. Yes, Brandon sucker-punched you with two heavies and Ashley Matthews to cash in the briefcase and win the title in what should have been your moment of triumph. What explains, Robbie, the massive ass-kicking he handed you the following month? Did I do that? Did I jump you in the back? Did I spike your coffee? Did I inject Brandon Macdonald with anabolic steroids before the match? No. You choked on what should have been the redeeming night of your life, and you floundered and were dismantled by a better man. Then I stepped into the spotlight and took the ball and ran with it until Rick Christian hopped off the bench and tripped me at the 5. I didn’t take your spot, I earned my own. You spent a long time being pathetic and feeling sorry for yourself. Barely showing up at the arena, and giving poor effort when you could. I don’t know how you qualified for “Upper Limit”, you couldn’t even be bothered to put forth minimum effort. James Shark had to give you the High Impact title because he felt sorry for you. That wasn’t my fault. That wasn’t my doing. I didn’t hold you back, I didn’t hold you down. I’m not the one who saw to it that you didn’t get into high-profile matches. I’m not the one who is responsible for the deplorable level of mediocrity you allowed yourself to sink to, Robbie. You are.

Stygian: But I will give you this: it may have been the most pathetic title “win” I’ve seen since Brandon was being carried around on the shoulders of Prince Marky Dee and Kool Rock-Ski…

Lilith: If anyone gets that, I’m going to be a-fucking-mazed!

Stygian: [continuing undaunted] …like Sean Astin at the end of Rudy with Lady Hamilton…

Lilith: Jesus, you’re going full tilt on the obscure references tonight!

Stygian: [continuing undaunted] …grinning like the Joker as Brandon tearfully screamed “THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, JAMES!” No…I take that back. Having James Shark hand you the belt because you’re down on your luck is even more pathetic than that. But…I will say this, Robbie, that belt seemed to help you find your self respect again. You took that belt, you ran with it. I’ll admit you did more than I did with it. I hated that thing. It was a foible on my way to collecting the prize I wanted. When Brandon told me all I had to do was fork over the High Impact title and I could have a match for this?

Stygian taps the belt on the desk with his toe.

Stygian: Well, I couldn’t get rid of that belt fast enough. But you had fallen so far, hadn’t you Robbie. I don’t know how low you sank personally, but if hiring Cody Taylor to kill your unborn twins with a steel chair is any indication? You must have fallen far down the totem pole. But that belt buoyed you. It lifted you out of the much and the mire. It raised you up from the pile of flaming wreckage Brandon Macdonald left you in after that laughable display you feebly put up in the rematch against him. That title did for you what I don’t know if it’s done for anyone. You made it unequivocally yours and it brought you into the spotlight. Suddenly you knew what it was like to rise up and be your own man. Not coasting on your father’s coat tails. Not taking James Shark’s handouts. But climbing up the ladder as your own man. And when you lost that title, you didn’t stay content. I like that, Robbie. I really do. You could have just gotten mired into this back and forth with Hostyle Jones over that belt, but you realized you’d proved your point and it was beneath you. You did what you worked out was the next step in your evolution. You came out in the middle of Metropolis and called down Superman. And I’ll be damned, you beat him. You beat him the same way Henshaw beat Superman at Coast City. It was significant, it was meaningful, and it was powerful. From there? You parlayed that into a title match against Chad Mason which you cashed in and cashed out.

Stygian: You beat me. You beat Superman. But you didn’t kill him. That’s what you lost sight of as you turned around and walked away from me. You beat Superman, you didn’t kill him. Did you think you were never going to see me again? Or are you naïve enough to think it will be that easy again? You kicked me in the head, you walked away. Do you really think that is something I wasn’t going to address? Do you think I’ve gotten this far by luck? No. You identified a glaring flaw in my game, and I sought to correct it. You took advantage of one thing, the same way the Cyborg Superman did the one time he’s beaten the real deal. And in the absence of the real Superman, the fake tried to claim the throne. You beat Superman and you gained glory but you are not SUPERMAN. You’re a vaguely similar entity with nothing in common upon a second look. The last time you had an IWF Championship Belt, a man people thought was the best wrestler in the world destroyed you and took it from you and you fell so far down the rabbit hole that you didn’t know what was the Matrix…

Lilah: At least people will get that one.

Lilith: You didn’t get the first two, did you?

Lilah: Not even.

Lilith: Expected as much.

Stygian: What you’ve accomplished is praiseworthy. But if you do not come out with that title clutched firmly in your grasp? It will have been for nothing, just like your first title win was. It will be forgotten, just like your first title win was. The fact that you beat me will scatter to the wind. You may have beaten me, but I had the better summer. I beat everyone else. I kicked it off by demolishing WEW, then I retired Corey Casey and I haven’t taken my foot off the gas yet. I beat Crimson Skull. I retired Anna Stone. I went to the edge in back with Johnny Styles and put Corey Casey out of the sport. You beat me…and then Chad Mason. Does anybody else hear the crickets?

Lilah: I do!

Lilah holds her hand up to her ear and turns her head.

Lilith: Why am I not surprised?

Stygian: Like the Cyborg Superman, you beat the Man of Steel once, you let your eyes get too big, you thought you were better than you were, and Superman came back for round 2 and kicked your ass so hard, you spiraled into oblivion. Hank Henshaw wound up in the Sinestro Corps as the Anti Monitor’s lapdog, crying like a bitch and begging to die. That’s where I predict you’ll wind up after another spectacular collapse in a world title match. You should align with the rest of these people to destroy me. But you need to prove to yourself and to the world that you can beat me again, with no flukey kick. You need the world to see that you can actually beat Superman. You won’t let any of them pin me, because you need to do that more than you need to walk out with your belt.

Lilith: Are the crickets still chirping?

Lilah: No, they’ve stopped.

Lilith: I’m sure they’ll come back.

Stygian: Well, out of respect, the Champion went first…who should be next? There are four IWF Champions in this match…four IWF Champions and Ryan Apollos. How did Ryan Apollos get here. Seriously, Ryan, isn’t this little affirmative action thing they’re doing for you over now? Yeah, you had this great run through the Path To Valhalla. But you didn’t win it. However, everyone finally sat up. Ever sine people first saw Ryan Apollos, they thought WOW! This guy is going to…and up until that moment, you never did. I mean you were Andre Ware. You were Ryan Leaf. Then suddenly, several years and disappointments into your career…you do THAT! Six-foot-four, two hundred fifty pounds, all the physical tools, all the physical talents, all the gifts…and the only time people talk about your potential is to mention that you failed to live up to it. You’re not even a villain in all of this: you’re Booster Gold.

Lilith: Isn’t that the guy who gets stuck on traffic duty?

Lilah: Or like, walks old ladies across the street?

Stygian: Yep. Congratulations Ryan, when the big guns go to town, when the Justice League cones to fight, you get to sit street level and give the evacuees directions. Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s a very important job. But while the real heroes are going ten rounds with Mongul in downtown Metropolis, well? You’re manning a barricades saying “move along, move along”. You think you’re really Superman, and you talk it to anyone who will listen. I’m still trying to figure out how you got into this match? You maybe got a bum call in the Briefcase tornament…maybe…and so you go cry to Chuck like some old Charles Schwab ad.

Lilah: Technically that was “Talk to Chuck”.

Lilith: But this is Ryan Apollos.

Lilah: Oh yeah, never mind.

Stygian: You go cry to Chuck and so he puts you into the world title match. Oh and he’s pledged to come in with you and help you win! Why? I don’t know. If you follow Charles Matthews’ career path, traditionally he pretty much only ever looks out for one guy. No points for guessing who that is. Chuck Matthews is a self-made, self-serving, self-centered jackass, historically. But there’s no way whatsoever he’s lying to you, is there? Making you think he’s in your pocket so you’ll help him clear out the ring, and then he’ll schedule a one-way trip to Hollywood the second you think it’s over. Oh no…Chuck Matthews will never do that! Not in a million years! I am totally sure you have nothing to worry about and Chuck Matthews who’s speared and backstabbed his best friends, his tag team partners, his fellow founders of IWF, how many girlfriends and even his own daughter? Yet for little Ryan Apollos who got screwed in a match that was actually a split second call and Ruby was in the ring right at the count of ten…yeah, Chuck is going to fly straight and narrow with you, Ryan. He’ll steer you straight. The same way Lex Luthor did when he took Booster Gold under his wing and showed Booster where all the illegal activities in Metropolis were. Of course, Superman finally realized that Lex was using Booster to take out his competitors and was going to kill Booster when he was done. I’m not sure we wouldn’t have been better off if Superman hadn’t just let Lex Luthor kill Booster Gold…Well, I’m not gonna make Superman’s mistake. If you really want to put your faith in Chuck, you go ahead. I’m not going to yell “DUCK” when he lines you up for the chop.

Stygian: I mean what have you done that proves you deserve to be here, that makes Chuck think you can be a World Heavyweight Champion he can be proud of. Hell, you tried to get Ruby Winters to lie down for you. You didn’t think you could beat Ruby Winters? And now you think you can beat me? Not if you were terminal and this was your “Make a Wish”, kid.

Suddenly Lilah frowns and shakes her head.

Lilah: Not funny.

Lilith: In what way?

Lilah: Have you ever thought that’s what this is maybe?

Lilith: What makes you say that?

Lilah: Well when you get cancer, doesn’t like, all your hair fall out and stuff?

Lilith: Oftentimes, but it’s not 100%. Ryan has hair.

Lilah: No, we see Ryan with hair.

Lilith sits there, waiting for Lilah to continue, then she finally turns to Stygian.

Lilith: She lost me.

Stygian: I don’t speak Lilah.

Lilah: Guys, have you seen his hair? Half black, half blonde, all icky? Guys how isn’t that a wig?

Stygian chuckles, Lilith sighs and laughs, reaching a hand out to brush lightly on Lilah’s shoulder.

Lilith: Darling, he’s that stupid. That is his hair and he did that on purpose.

Lilah: This is why you shouldn’t do your own dyeing.

Stygian: I actually have it reliably that he actually pays, and pays well for that.

Lilah: Really?

Stygian: My hand to god.

Lilah shakes her head.

Lilah: Never mind, the guy’s an idiot, shred the dumbass.

Stygian and Lilith laugh, Stygian shakes his head.

Stygian: Now when Lilah calls you a dumbass…

Lilith: …and she’s right…

Stygian: …well that should tell you all you need to know about Ryan Apollos. But it’s not all Ryan needs to know. Ryan seems to think he belong here. Booster Gold playing at being Superman. Ryan thinks he’s just been overlook. He calls himself “the Legend Slayer”. Really, chief? Really? What legends? Hmm? You tried to get Ruby to lie down for you.

Lilah: I can’t blame him…

Lilith: Do you really want to go there?

Lilah: What?

Lilith: You know what?

Stygian: We were letting it go, remember?

Lilith: For now…

Stygian: As I was saying…you tried to get Ruby to lie down for you. You’ve lost to Steel Angel, Chad Mason, Marcus Silverstone…you beat who? Isabella Jean? Some guy who thinks he’s Pyro? And you beat them because that’s who you can beat. That’s who you belong beating. Every now and then you come up big, like you did against Crimson Skull. And every now and then you make a good fight, like you did against me. But when push comes to shove, you lose. When one of the heavyweights, one of the real badasses of IWF comes to call? There you are, counting all the pretty lights. You’re not a-list material. You’re not on the front line. You’re Booster Gold, looking up at Superman while you direct traffic out of the warzone…wishing you could be me. And it’s not because you’ve been screwed. It’s not because you’ve been passed over. It’s not because you haven’t been given what you earned. You’ve been given more than you ever did. You’ve been given two title matches. You came up empty in one. This one you’re going to do worse. Chuck says he’s going to make sure you walk out with the title? What’s his next trick going to be, water into wine? Is he going to part the Red Sea? If Chuck Matthews keeps his promise and has your back? I’ll wear a Cubs jersey next time I go to Busch Stadium. But if Chuck Matthews Actually does make sure you walk out with the IWF World Heavyweight Championship? They I will document it and send it to the Vatican so it can be chronicled and he can be eligible for Sainthood upon death, because he will have performed a miracle. You’re a career fuck-up who should be a lot better than you ever have been. Better than you ever will be. Tell me something “Legend Slayer” where are the “Legends”? I’ve got Dan Alexander, Chuck Matthews, Brandon Macdonald, James Shark, Corey Bull, Steve Relic, Anna Stone, Crimson Skull, Steel Angel, Kevin Kayfabe and Corey Casey…where are yours? Maybe you should spend a little less time on tickle fights, and a little more time honing your craft. But you won’t, because you’re not really a professional wrestler, you just play one on tv. You should alight with the rest of these people to destroy me. But you won’t. because somehow you think you’re good enough. You think you belong in this match. If Brendan Maddox hadn’t run off because he realized I was waiting for him, and if Cody Taylor hadn’t rabbited yet again once a confrontation with me was inevitable? Well since you couldn’t get back into the ring, you’d be just like your boy Aaron Rodgers watching Golden Tate come down with that lob in the endzone…powerless to watch as championships were decided without you. You should work with them to get me out, but you won’t…because you think you can beat me. You think you’re every bit as good as Superman…just like Booster Gold.

Lilith laughs, shifting her weight between her feet. Stygian swings around to the other side, and props his feet on the other corner of the same side of the desk.

Lilith: This is getting good…

Lilah: Who are you doing next?

Stygian: Ladies’ choice.

Lilah: Who’s left?

Lilith: Savage, Chuck and Steel.

Lilah: Savage!

Lilith: Agreed.

Stygian: Oh, alright, might as well get the other guy who doesn’t belong in this match out of the way. Oh, I suppose little Jackie Paper is mad at the magic dragon now. Yeah, well, last time I checked, I’m Stygian, not Puff.

Lilith: Can you drop one reference anyone will get?

Stygian: How the hell can I know what people will get? I drop Faust two weeks ago…I had a dude who works in a library all “huh”? I can’t predict these things. I’m sure “Puff The Magic Dragon” isn’t too far afield.

Lilith: You didn’t think Faust was, either.

Stygian shrugs.

Stygian: If Savage wants to look it up, he can. I’m not going to cry if he doesn’t get it. He’s got money, he’s probably got the new iPhone. He can Google. Of course, he’d have to get off his knees long enough. Tell me Savage, are you sucking Remington’s cock and taking it up the ass from Corey Casey, or now that Corey signs your checks do you suck him off and take it up the ass from…I’m lost. Cause I mean, every time Remington fired a shot across my bow on Twitter, there was Jack Savage parroting back whatever Alex had just said. Alex makes challenge, sycophant Savage is there to say “good one, Alex.” I’m sorry Jack, at what point did you make the mistake of thinking you were in my league? At what point did you think you could just talk to me, like you knew something? You know Jack, I was going to give you Vandal Savage, you know, because of the name? But really, that would be giving you too much credit. Vandal Savage, well, he’s more of a JLA villain, so it would have been a stretch to fit into the metaphor, but, it’s even more of a stretch to try and paint you as anywhere near as competent as Vandal Savage. He actually has power and cunning and he can give the whole Justice League a run for its money. You are definitely no Vandal Savage. You’re sort of down the list. You’re with Kryptonite Man, or Doctor Chaos. The kind of guys who don’t turn up much because they’re so comically inept that any issue with them wouldn’t be taken seriously. Like, people would put that issue of Superman mack on the shelf. “Who’s he fighting? Effron the Sorcerer? …I’ll come back next month and see if someone cool shows up.

Stygian: I’ve got it Jack…you’re The Atomic Skull! I’m not sure that’s not being a little too generous, because with the right writer, Skull can be a badass…but it’s as close as I’m going to get in the Superman lexicon. You see, Atomic Skull got these, well, atomic powers from this bomb that was set off by The Dominion, who are actually Legion of Super Heroes’ villains, but let’s not split hairs. Basically this guy got atomic powers and he hallucinated himself being a hero from this series of 1930’s serials he liked…look I never said it was all groundbreaking writing. But, uh, anyway, he imagines himself as this hero and visualizes Superman as his enemy, kind of like you did on Twitter. We never had a match in UECW, did we? By the time I came around you were mostly a tag-team guy. You and Kelly. I think you and Tolly had a team for a short time as I left. I did get Tolly, I didn’t get to fight you. I don’t really regret that. Because let’s face it, you were not one of the guys I had to check my hole card against if you came up in a World Heavyweight Challenge. Towards the end of my time there, there weren’t many men in UECW I didn’t know I could beat and you weren’t one of them. Flex Johnson, Kaden Kessler, Devlin Raine…that’s really about it. You weren’t on the list of guys I worried about losing my title to. But to hear you bark on Twitter? You sure as hell thought you were. I noticed you piped up about maybe teaching me some respect. I also notice you talked about doing it with a group of guys. “Venom” as you called them. I mean what was that? I didn’t even…you know? I didn’t know about Venom. To be honest, I have to agree with the assessment Alexander Remington made in my dressing room after the match. UECW’s been circling the drain for a couple months. The writing was on the wall, and it was probably there long before I saw it; since I was just watching episodes on DVR. Hell, the product was so terrible I was fast forwarding through most of it.

Stygian: But the point is, you threatened me from a far. Yeah, okay. I mean Christ, everyone does that on Twitter. “There’s Stygian. Hey Stygian…YOU’RE A FAGGOT!” Come get in the ring. “Oh I have better things to do. I’m in a better company.” Okay. I brush them off. Because for the most part? If they ever did show up in IWF? They’d run away like Cody Taylor did. Ever notice he was all for returning til he got booked into this match? Ever notice he didn’t say why he was leaving? Well, that’s all me. So really, Remington was barking. Whatever. He’ll either show up or he won’t. And now that he’s here and ducking me? Well, we all see how serious he was about that match. He’ll answer for what he did. And he will answer to me. I have ways of getting him into the ring, and none of them are that hard. I don’t have to put the pressure on him. I can. But I don’t. All I have to do is poke his new Lord and master with a stick. Corey wants to hide his shiny new toy from me? Fine. He wants to send you to die in Remington’s place? That’s fine too. Corey Casey wants to destroy me. He thinks I’m not fit to represent his company, and he hates me for ending his career. Never mind how misguided that is, because I tried to walk away from that match before the damage was done. I tried to forfeit that match before he made me hurt him…well…as bad as I ultimately had to. But this isn’t about Corey, except for how he relates to you. You’re Corey Casey’s new head of security? Wow! I would feel safe. I can’t tell you how safe I would feel with Barney Fife on the job. Why does Corey need protection? Because he’s deliberately antagonized the most destructive force in wrestling today, namely me. He made this personal. Or at least he managed to make it as personal for me as I had for him. Corey Casey made this a war, and he’s drafted up sides. He’s got Alex, he’s got that cock-juggling thunder cunt Isabella and he’s got you. You’ve been drafted into a war to fight for the losing side. And Corey Casey will lose. He’s lost to me already. He’s lost his career. Do you want to be next Jack? No, you don’t. Not really, do you? No. You watched me. You watched what I can do when I’m on a mission. You watched what I can do when I have my mind set on something. You watched powerlessly from the back, after you and whomever you were tagging up with that week opened the show with a loss. You hit the showers, grabbed a cold drink and watched the main event. You watched all the man UECW had built up as heroes fall. You watched them fall into the gaping maw. You watched them fall at the feet of the new hero.

Stygian: Is that why you talked so much shit on Twitter, Jack? Because you didn’t get a chance to stop me? What do you think would have gone differently? Walk me through that epic Stygian/Jack Savage confrontation in 2010, or 2011. Tell me how you think it would have gone. I’ll tell you? I would have come down, I would have played with my food a little bit, and I would have destroyed you, just like I did to 90% of that roster! I would have dominated you, just like I did to most of the guys there…and then Kelly would have called out my name while you were fucking her. So it pretty much would have gone like all your other matches back then. What are you going to do, hold up the Omega Title? I see that Corey is letting you keep it here. Good for you. Master says you can keep the pretty shiny. Kevin Kayfabe had to hold up the Omega Title, too. Mostly because it was the only one he could win with me around. Like you, nobody would believe Kevin was a wrestler if they ran into him in an airport or a restaurant, so he would keep the Omega Title with him and go “look, BELT!” yeah, David Arquette had a belt, too. Congratulations, Jack. Because you dropped to your knees and opend your mouth before The Lord, you’re getting something in IWF that you never could have gotten in UECW: A World Title Match against me. You know, Jack, you’re the one who has the deck stacked the hardest. Everyone has help in this match. Chuck has pledged to see that Apollos leaves with the belt…if you believe him, and just let me reiterate how stupid it is to trust Chuck Matthews to make a magnanimous gesture for ANYONE…but Chuck has pledged to put the belt on Ryan. I think the Human highlight Reels are quite mercifully dead…but Robbie and Steel still have that bond from when they heroically came together to usurp Chad Mason’s Natural Law and the Reign of Error. And I have my swinin’ cod. But you have nothing. No port in the storm. Now hand to pull you back from oblivion. You’re actually the one person who shouldn’t ally to eliminate me first, because if you do? I just showed you the battle lines. If you do, who do you think the rest will put out next? New guy goes first, house rules. But don’t let it bother you Jack. You’re not going to have to make that decision. Just enjoy the moment, because you don’t really belong here. Like the Atomic Skull, you found yourself here, and you imagine you’re a hero. And you imagine I’m your rival. It’s all in your head. You aren’t a champion. You aren’t a hero. You aren’t in my league. You don’t belong here. You got caught up in this and you got to meet Superman…right before he kicked your ass.

Lilith: I always wondered why he was chattering on twitter.

Lilah: Like, did he think he was better than you?

Lilith: Just because Jason didn’t crush him in a match, doesn’t mean he couldn’t have. It was just never booked. He should consider himself lucky.

Stygian: As should Steel Angel. Seriously man, you should have bought a lottery ticket the night Chad Mason and his knitting circle laid out James Shark and you happened to be walking by with that briefcase. You had that one chance to shine, and you took it. You had about a three week period where you were the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. Of course, it all ended when Chad Mason kicked your ass and took the title…but for three weeks? Man was it good to be you. I almost regret giving the Cyborg Superman to Robbie…but, you’re actually kind of a nice guy. I don’t know that giving you a villain is appropriate. I think I’ll give you a fellow hero, and one slightly more useful than Ryan got! You Steel get to be, well…Steel!

Lilith: Wait, what?

Lilah: The guy who built himself a Superman suit Iron Man style and flew around Metropolis all badass after Superman died, trying to replace him.

Lilith catches Stygian’s eye.

Lilith: Lilah’s Paradox?

Stygian: Lilah’s Paradox. And a more fitting metaphor for Steel Angel doesn’t exist. A man who rose up only when Superman was gone, and ultimately wasn’t equal to the task. Like so many, Steel, you took my effective demise, my firing from this company at the hands of Rick Christian, as an opportunity. An opportunity, let’s face it, you wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed. Oh so you won a briefcase? How cute. Chad Mason would have never left me lying out in the hall the way he did James Shark. He wouldn’t have dared to form Natural Law on my watch, because I would have just smacked the shit out of them one week into it, and it would have been over. Chad Mason wouldn’t have dared to challenge me, no matter how many people he had. That’s because I’m the real Superman, not a knockoff trying way too hard to be. It’s not your fault, Steel. You tried. You were a nice guy, James dropped the flag, and you tried to carry it, I get that. It’s not your fault you weren’t Superman. Only Superman can be Superman. Everyone else is a pretender, it doesn’t matter what that S on your armor says, Steel. You’re just not the Man of Steel. Chad Mason did what he did. You, Hostyle, Ryan, Rosa…you all tried to stand up to him and he made you look like rent-a-cops at the food court. But that’s not your fault. I mean, you followed a guy in makeup who smokes the gross national product of Jamaica every other day and the sad thing is, he was the only one trying to do anything. You got saddled with a ridiculous name and you had to try and pretend Hostyle Jones made sense for longer than three seconds every other hour…but it sort of worked…you know, when Robbie came in, won the title and then kinda disbanded the group. You yourself failed to defend the title, an then failed twice to recapture it from Chad, but that’s all over now. Shh. Shh. Shh. It’s all done, you’re safe Steel, and you’re among friends. Show me on the doll where Chad touched you.

Stygian: You and I have done this a couple times now, haven’t we? You were there, with Ruben Ricardo Leon, the night Brandon and Corey tried to screw me. The night I thumped Ricky Ricardo so hard while Brandon was reffing that Brandon got out of the rin and made a sandwich between one and two, then he went back to the kitchen for seconds between two and three and I still had Ruben beat, and you trying to find all your teeth outside the ring, that Brandon had no choice but to count to three. Ever notice you didn’t see Ruben Ricardo Leon much after that night? Do you want to guess what part of Boston he’s buried in? Guarantee you Corey didn’t let him live down that colossal fuck up. We did this another time too. You cried long and hard in the corner about how Chad Mason being the referee screwed you and cost you the match. Here’s the thing, Steel…no he didn’t. Yeah, so we had a replacement referee and he got some things wrong…ask Ryan Apollos all about that. Ask Aaron Rogers. And ask yourself…what world was ever created wherein you could defeat me? Because I don’t think I really need to point out that the successes, the bright spots of your career are far outnumbered and outshone by your failures.

Stygian: Your career in IWF is sort of just this one long humiliation conga line of ineptitude. You’re like Wayne Fontes, really, more than you’re like any superhero. Wayne Fontes? Coached the Detroit Lions in the early 90’s. Wayne was a hit and miss coach. Seemed like every year the Lions would hover at the brink of the playoffs, and then the rumors would start circling that Fontes was about to be fired…and then the damn Lions would get hot and skate into the playoffs, saving his job. Every time I think that all anyone has to do to really break your spirits and send you finally tumbling down the rabbit hole for good? You get hot and fight your way back to this level. I suppose we should admire this resilience. I suppose I am supposed to laud your perseverance. Hell in this day and age, most of the sports you don’t need to be elite, you just need to get into the playoffs. The L.A. Kings snuck in as the eighth seed and raised Lord Stanley’s Cup, strangling the Presidents’ Trophy winning Canucks in the first round. The New York Giants were the last team in, they then proceeded to demolish the defending champions who’d gone 15-1 and make a mockery out of a Patriots team who had won 13 games. So maybe you’re not the aberration, maybe you’re the rule in this current context of a plucky little underdog culture.

Stygian: But that plucky little underdog doesn’t fly with me. In individual sports? 9 times out of ten, the best man wins. If this was a one fall match, I’d give you an even chance, because nobody could keep track of five other men in two cages in a falls count anywhere environment. And I know, I know, you think Robbie is in your corner. That the two of you are going to just…what? You two will pick us off one-by-one, then shake hands and have a classic confrontation in the middle of the ring? Well too bad Chuck and Ryan are running the same playbook, and that Chuck is the best backstabber since Starscream. The second you take your eye off him, Hollywood Impact, thanks for playing. And Robbie isn’t going to just give that belt away. Because it is to him what it is to you, validation. Like you, Robbie’s had a ton of potential mired by mediocrity, diminished by inconsistency. If Robb sees the chance to eliminate anyone, including you, he’ll take it. Look around Steel, the Human Highlight Reels are gone. They carted Rosa off two weeks ago…

Lilah winces and looks down to the ground, turning away from the camera. Lilith gives Stygian a knowing look, he nods.

Stygian: Hostyle lost his belt, and seems to have lost his voice. Robbie got what he wanted out of the deal: people to watch his back while he beat Chad Mason. Robbie has no loyalty to you. Historically Robbie Hart uses people to get what he wants from them, and then he fucks them over. Ask Loca Rocsi about that one. But even if your idea, and I know you have to think like this because I know you’re just this naïve Steel, pans out? You and Robbie go back to back like Blank Man and The Other Guy? Like the Batman and Robin series of the 60s? Even if that happens? Let me tell you where that fails. Who do you take out first? Well, it should be me, but you won’t, none of you will. I’ve proven why everyone else won’t do it, and I’m going to prove why you won’t soon. Hell, let’s just get that out of the way now, because I’m growing weary of having to talk about you like you’re a credible threat.

Stygian: I already touched on it earlier. Chad Mason’s refereeing in that match. You think you would have won if it wasn’t for Chad Mason. You think your name deserves to be amongst the handful of names in my loss column. You think you deserve to me mentioned with Devlin Raine, Jaci Sovereign, Kaden Kessler, Robbie Hart and Johnny Styles. You think you belong in that small, elite group, and you think you lost your one chance to get in there. You won’t stand idly by and let someone else take the credit. You won’t stand by and let someone else pin me. You want that glory for yourself, because you feel like you missed out on it. Like Steel while Superman was dead, you made people think you were actually A-List material, because like Metropolis losing her Superman, IWF would have taken anyone wearing a shield and standing up to Chad Mason. And I’ll had it to you Steel, you were the best of the imitators, but all you ever were was an imitator. The same night you floundered against Chad Mason and basically handed him the title, I destroyed Corey Casey. I was one of the immortals of that night. Nobody remember anything of you and Chad that night. Nobody remembers who won the High Impact title. Hell, people are already starting to forget that Anna Stone won the Path to Valhalla. What do people remember about Ragnarok 2012? Ryan Apollos turning into a wrecking machine for about 30 minutes, and what I did to Corey Casey. You’ve always thought some of that glory should be yours. Not because you’re entitled to it, but because you’re a golly-gee nice guy gosh darn it! You think because you play by the rules and say good things to the kids and conduct yourself with honor that these things should just be given to you. You are virtuous, but haven’t you ever heard the phrase “virtue is its own reward”? In this sport you have to take what you want from whoever has it. That’s why you will fail. Even if Robbie plays by your rules, eventually you will fail. If you and Robbie can work together, where does your target priority lie? Me? Well, in a vacuum it should…but Jack Savage has to know that keeping me around is in his interests. Chuck Matthews thinks he has a plan, and if I know Chuck he wants to keep me around to do the heavy lifting. I’m too good a weapon not to use. So do you focus on Chuck? Well, it’s in Ryan’s best interest to keep him around. Savage could be a likely first target, but then you have to come back to the same question as before…me…or Megatron and Starscream? Chuck thinks he has a plan for me. He won’t let you put me out until he’s ready for it. But if you focus on Chuck and Ryan? Then I come tear you apart. So many ways for you to screw up even the best of plans, eh Steel? Good luck with that.

Stygian puts his feet on the ground and sits forward on the chair, clasping his hands and resting them on the polished surface of the desk, facing the camera. The girls come around the desk and sit on either corner of it, cutting a striking, shapely framework, centering the focus on Stygian…eventually…once you’re done looking at them in tight tank tops and miniskirts. No really, guys, Stygian is over there. Look. LOOK! For fuck sake, they were in Playboy, you can see them naked later. Just for now look at the big man. Please? Thank you.

Stygian: Chuck Matthews. For my money, the most dangerous man in the match. Intelligence is such an undervalued commodity in this sport that so many people overlook it. I do not plan to overlook it, I do not plan to overlook you and I do not for a second believe that you’ve suddenly turned over this new leaf and you are magnanimously let a career fuck-up like Ryan Apollos leave with the belt. Yes, suddenly Chuck Matthews is a creature of benevolence and a benefactor for the downtrodden. Really, Ryan’s known you for loner, but apparently I know you better. The only time you have someone’s back is so that it’s where you can see it to stab it when the time is right. Apollos might be flying high thinking he’s got the legendary Chuck Matthews behind him…but he seems to forget that he’s got Chuck Matthews behind him. I won’t pretend to know your plan, or have a counter for it. That’s Batman bullshit that favorable writers give him to boost him up. Oh no, Chuck…if I am Superman, then you are Brainiac.

Stygian: Only you, Chuck, are capable of boiling down so many matches, and championships and lines of probability into a kind of cold, hard math that gives you a perspective on the world few can reach. But the thing about any strength is that the more it works, the more you come to rely upon it. The more it works, the more you think it’s unbeatable. This is your glaring flaw, Chuck, it’s just that it’s so rare anyone knows about it. I don’t have to out think you. I made that mistake the first time we fought, and it nearly cost me the match. I realized that I don’t have to out think you, you will out think yourself. Because everyone always tells you how smart you are, you always tell us how smart you are. I’ve heard that you occasionally scream “SMARTEST MAN IN PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING” in the middle of arguments for no apparent reason, like just saying it will win the argument. As though suddenly whomever is at odds with you will turn into Chief Wiggum. “Well, I can’t dispute that; let’s go get some doughnuts, boys.”

Stygian: You see I used to pride myself on being the smartest man in professional wrestling, and on the surface I probably am. Pure, unadulterated intellect? I might be the smartest man in the history of professional wrestling. But I can’t outmaneuver you. Your backups have backups. I can’t plot around them, so I won’t even try. Because so much of what you do, so much of your advantage comes from you repeating that over and over: “smartest man in professional wrestling.” It’s not a fact; it’s an appeal to the ego. You say you’re the smartest, an instantly your opponents say “bullshit, I’m smarter than you” and they try to prove it. That Chuck, is the smartest thing you do. In essence you aren’t the smartest man in professional wrestling…you’re the best manipulator. That I will give you in spades. You can read people, you can see their insecurities, their weaknesses, and manipulate them into showing them to you. You have this level of perception of the psychology of people that most can’t hope to achieve. Me? I know I can’t do it. I tried and you fought me to a double count-out. I tried to play in your sandbox. So whenever I see a Chuck Matthews plan forming, I have given up on trying to outmatch it, and instead I just start looking for the nearest monkey wrench. Because like Brainiac, your strength is in your preparation and your execution. The tangles webs you weave. And when things start to get tough for you is when someone just grabs a torch and starts burning your webs. And that’s what I’m going to do, Chuck.

Stygian: Do you have a plan? Of course you do. Does it involve Ryan Apollos? Of course it does. Can I stop it? Yes I can. But not by trying to find the linchpin. So many people try to bring down a house of cards by looking for the one card they have to take out to make the whole thing collapse on itself. It’s an elegant solution, and the house of cards looks pretty falling neatly in upon itself. But the thing about destroying a beautifully build Chuck Matthews house of cards is not to make it look good when you knock it down. Because while you get distracted by trying to find the one card to bring it down elegantly, Chuck builds a prison around you. So instead of looking for that card? It’s so much more effective to grab a baseball bat and knock the damn thing down and make a fantastic mess of it in the process. That’s how you defeat a Chuck Matthews plan.

Stygian: It’s called complexity addiction, and you have it, Chuck. You have it as a compulsion. You have it as a symptom. Like The Riddler, like Brainiac, you have to build the Rube Goldberg machine and use it on your enemies. That’s your weakness, Chuck. If you haven’t built and sprung an elaborate trap, you can’t bring yourself to get the kill. You overvalue your intellect at the cost of realizing the benefits of brute strength. There’s an old saying: might does not make right. There’s a slightly less old saying that probably sprang up almost immediately: might may not always be right, but it is always might. And sometimes people forget that I am a seven foot tall, 315 pound beast of a man who smashes people into crumpled little heaps of bloody chunks that someone has to come out and scrape off the mat with a squeegee and put in a zip-lock bag to send home to their next of kin. So I don’t care what your plan is, Chuck. I don’t need a plan of attack…I have a plan: ATTACK!

Stygian leans back in the chair, resting his hands on the arm rest of the chair and swiveling back and forth lazily as he sighs and takes a long look into the camera.

Stygian: This belt means something different to me than it does for each and every one of you. Not this one…

Stygian nods to the one on the table.

Stygian: …but the rank and title of IWF World Heavyweight Champion. It means something different to me than it does to all of you. To all of you it is a trophy. To most of you it is validation. It’s validation because you’re insecure enough; you haven’t done enough on your own to have enough self confidence that the words of others do not wound you. If Robbie walks out with it, it erases the beat down Brandon handed him in the rematch. It lets him finally be his own man, instead of a man coasting by on his father’s name and the graciousness of friends. Accepting an invitation into Upper Limit because he was tight with its members. Accepting a title from James Shark because it was more than he had the ability to win up until that point. It means he’s actually the champion, and not a blip on the radar. It’s something he went out and earned for himself and kept for himself. For Steel Angel it is also validation. It shows him that he’s crossed the line from mediocrity to elite status. That the promise he showed wasn’t a false promise. For Ryan Apollos and Jack Savage this is also a mark of validation: that while they consistently wasted opportunities and watched better men like me come in and fight my way up the mountain they felt the deserved to be on top of…if they win that belt it will affirm to them that they actually belonged on top with people like me. And to Chuck Matthews? The belt is another trophy in a long and storied career. Chuck is like me. He’s done enough and he’s secure enough that he doesn’t need the belt to prove how good he is. I don’t know what his reason is for seeing to either claim the belt, or if he’s true to his word, put in on Ryan Apollos. It’s probably some kind of symbolic value Chuck is after, but I don’t need to understand why Chuck is setting up a long line of dominoes to knock them down.

Stygian: What that belt is to me? It’s a weapon. It’s the most powerful weapon in the company. It’s Excalibur. I need that belt. I need to leave with it. Because Corey Casey has been trying to destroy me since I came back to IWF. I foolishly thought he’d given it up when we shook hands in the middle of the ring on battle grounds. Little did I know that he was just looking for a way to bring in the man everyone says is my Kryptonite. Everyone thinks Alexander Remington is the one I can’t take down. I don’t know why? Alex, if you go back through his history has never had the balls to get in the ring with me face-to-face. The only times Alexander Remington has ever dared to confront me, it was either from behind while he was armed, or from the safety of another company when he knew I wasn’t able to meet his challenge. I’d like to say that this latest turn of events surprises me, but it doesn’t. Alex Remington will not get in a ring with me unless he is absolutely forced to. He thinks he’s pulled the ultimate coup. He got Corey Casey to come in to UECW, buy it out so he could have the last laugh against Chelle Fury, by promising Corey Casey that he could give Corey what he wants most: me on a slab. And then Alex somehow confused Corey that it’s best to hold off. He’s convinced Corey that he’s just fattening me up for the kill…when in reality he has no intention of ever getting into the ring with me. Not unless I’m down and bleeding from several deep wounds and he’s armed. But Alex has underestimated, and possibly discounted one thing: when Corey Casey buys something, he expects to get what he paid for. Corey Casey paid for someone to destroy me, and if I push Corey hard enough, he’s going to make Alex keep his promises. When I stole this belt and declared myself IWF Champion, because I never lost it, Corey Casey went insane. He attacked me like a rabid dog, he agreed to a match than not even Jynx would take sight unseen, he put up five million dollars of his own money and lost it…and he nearly killed himself, sacrificing his career and his spine all to get a fake world title from me. A fake belt I stole, just because he didn’t like the idea of me carrying a symbol of this company. That’s why I need to leave with this title. I need to win this match because the belt is my weapon against Corey Casey, and it’s the sword I will eventually stab Alexander Remington with. Alex doesn’t want to fight me, he just told people he did so he could make them think he wasn’t afraid of me and increase his credibility in the UECW locker room, because to a man they were terrified of me. Now Alex is using his friendship with Corey Casey, his business relationship with Corey to keep himself away from me. Alex, Corey risked a substantial amount of money, his family’s future and sacrificed his career to try and get a fake title back from me. Corey was willing to do that to himself, to take that much risk on to himself to stop me from carrying a fake belt around. If Corey was willing to demand that of himself to get the fake belt back, Alex. What is he going to demand of you to get the real one? Hmm?

Stygian stands and collects the IWF World Title Belt, shouldering it and stepping around the desk. The girls flank him in the final shot and he smirks.

Stygian: Your mission is clear and declared. You want to destroy me? Fine. You’re welcome to try. Alright gentlemen…how do you kill Superman?

Stygian walks off camera, whistling the John Williams “Superman” theme as it slowly fades to black.

Chuck Matthews: "Show of hands, who saw this coming?

Don't you dare put your hands up, you never would have predicted this.

Chuck Matthews, the general manager of Battle Grounds, former world champion X number of times over, tag team specialist, future legend, etcetera etcetera, insert whatever accolade I choose to brag about at the time, you know the drill. And now, here I am, competing for another belt to add to my resume...right?

Well...no, actually, not right. I'm here, fighting on behalf of Mr. Ryan Apollos.

You thought that was a joke? You think that was all a part of a master plan? Nah. Shocking as it may seem, I'm true to what I said. I'm not in this match to win it. I'm here to ensure that Ryan Apollos walks out with the victory.

Well...fine, maybe that isn't entirely true. 'AHA!' I hear you say. 'So there IS a plan!'

Of course there's a plan. There's ALWAYS a plan, isn't there? Everything I do fits into a grander scheme. Everything I say is designed to mold the world to my liking. Putting myself in the world title match? Stygian already caught on that there's something fishy about it. But what? Oh, great mastermind Matthews, won't you please enlighten us with your master plan? Won't you please allow us the insight into your glorious mind?

Well...since you asked nicely...

Again, I'm surprised at how quickly Stygian caught on to things. He realized straight off the bat the things that the rest of you could never get through your thick skulls.

I have no logical reason to be in this match.

I don't want the title. I don't care about the title. The IWF Championship is just another reign to a long list of title reigns. Sure, I could take it for the sole reason of saying that I've done it. Fact of the matter is, I've held the world title in every company I've ever been a part of...hell, my last company, I held all three world titles, each on two separate occasions, and managed to become a two-time triple crown champion before anyone else managed it once. I like to think that's fairly impressive...and yet, I've never held the IWF Championship...the belt of the promotion that I helped kick off the ground. Does that drive me nuts? Does that eat away at me, knowing I couldn't win the belt of my own company?

No, not really. I don't particularly care. Why, you ask? Because I helped to bring IWF to fruition. I created the IWF CHampionship. THat makes it mine, no matter who holds it. Whether you like it or not, there is a part of Chuck Matthews in that belt, no matter who the champion is. It doesn't matter if it's Chad Mason, or Steel Angel, or Corey Casey. Hell, it doesn't matter if it's Stygian, taking it so he can run off and defend it in Japan. The IWF Championship is like my child. Created by the father, and ingrained with a piece of the father that will stick with it, no matter what happens to it.

The point? I give zero fucks about the IWF Championship...which, I suppose, leads to the next question: Why Apollos? What is it about Ryan Apollos that's so special? I'm sure there's not a single person in IWF who truly believes I'm granting Apollos an IWF Title reign simply because he lost to Ruby in the tournament. And, surprisingly, you would be correct in that assumption. Ryan lost, and suddenly he gets not only a world title match, but Chuck's personal support? Why?

Well...uh...why not? I gave Apollos a title match because I think he's earned it. I'm the General Manager, you better damn well believe I can do that. Barring a loss here and there, APollos has been consistently dominant. He's bound to win a belt sooner or later. My thinking? Go big or go home. Let's see if he can win the world championship. Let's see what Apollos can do when he's got the IWF Title around his waist.

But why Apollos? Why not someone else who has had a dominant streak lately? Why not Parker Wayde? Why not my own protege, Silas Romero? Why not Jinx? Why not Ethan Cage?

Which leads back to my last question...why not? This is why you people can never stop my plans. This is why I can stand here and call every one of you my intellectual inferiors. You can't understand my plans, because you can't understand me. You can't read me. Hell, look at my last T-Shirt. Chuck Matthews: Predictably Unpredictable. And oh, how true that is. Fact is, you never know exactly what I'm going to do next. You never know what I'm going to say next. There is one consistency in the Chuck Matthews playbook: There is ALWAYS a plan. You've learned that much, haven't you? You know, by now, that you can't simply look at the here and now when you're dealing with Chuck Matthews. You need to look at the here, the now, the three weeks ago, the six hours ago, the two months from now...everything. Everything I've said, everything I'm doing, and what it all means, and what my vision for the future is. What am I striving for? What's my aim?

Do you know why I can do this? Do you know why I've taken that name, the "Smartest Man in Professional Wrestling?" Look at what I'm doing now. I sit here, week in and week out, and I tell you, in plain terms, exactly how you can beat me. You know what makes me different from the rest of the world? Do you see what sets me apart from everyone else? Everyone else will tell you all the reasons they'll win. They're the greatest high-flier in the world! They've held twenty world titles, thirty midcard titles, and seventy tag titles! Titles on titles on titles, I say! They're undefeated! They specialize in hardcore matches! They're the best big man in the world!

I'm not like everybody else.

No, rather than tell you all the reasons I'll win, I sit here and I tell you all the ways you can beat me. I stand in front of this camera, look straight ahead, and say in the plainest terms I can, exactly the steps you need to take in order to figure it all out. And, week after week, you continue to disappoint. You fail. Nobody has been able to beat me. The irony? This failure is exactly what gives me my power. This inability to understand me is exactly why I have a career.

You don't fight Chuck Matthews. You fight his plan. You are not fighting a man. You're fighting an idea. You're fighting an entity. THAT's why I'm one of the best in the world. THAT's why my name gets thrown around with words like 'Legend' and 'the best.' I have done what few others ever do. I have found a way to elevate myself beyond the corporeal realm. I'm not talking about some supernatural bullshit. People can pin me in a ring, sure. People can fight me in a match...but can they beat me?

In that sense, I am, and I likely always will be, undefeated. You cannot beat Chuck Matthews, because no single man can beat an idea. THAT is what you fight when you go up against me. You fight against an idea. You fight against my philosophies...my ideologies...my dreams...my aspirations...everything. My plans are my own creations. They exist in my mind until I can enact them in the outside world. And, until they exist in the earthly realm, they are unstoppable. You cannot fight an idea.

Yet, despite this...I continue to teach. I tell you HOW to beat my ideas. I tell you HOW to read my plans. I tell you how to learn my thoughts, to read my strategies, and I give you all the time in the world to gather your troops, to think out a plan of your own, and set it in motion, all in an effort to stop me.

To be fair...there are some who manage to get that far. Throughout my career, a handful of individuals have, in fact, managed to understand my plan. They've caught on. They've learned to read my strategies, and they managed to formulate their own battle plan. Nick Ridicule. Brandon Macdonald. I believe my own daughter managed to do it once. They had their strategies. They learned my plan, and they acted accordingly...and THEN they failed.

It's a challenge to every adversary I ever fight. They go to battle with me knowing there is more to it than just pinning me in a ring. They know that, even in the most important matches, I always have an ace in the hole. I always have backups for my backups. I never put all my eggs in one basket...I never risk everything on a single match. It does not take a single match to ruin my plans. Some will never understand this. THey'll rush in, guns blazing. Maybe they'll even get a win over me. They'll think it's over and done. Corey Casey was notorious for this. He pinned me in the ring, and thought it was all over.

In a way, Styg, he took on your plan of attack long before you thought it was a good idea. He had the same idea you do now. And there, if I may use your analogies against you, is where you are exactly like Superman. Superman realizes that there is a plan beyond this single battle...but he does not account for the possibility that the plan will continue even after the adversary is defeated.

It's a fair belief, no doubt. Kill the puppetmaster, and the puppets will stop dancing. Kill the man holding the big red button, and the world is safe another day. Unfortunately, my mind dives so much deeper than that. You cannot beat an idea. By the time I step into the ring, preparing to do physical battle, my idea has already been planted. My plan has already been set in action. That is where Superman fails. Superman does not see the bigger picture. His foresight extends about as far as the length of his arm...and when beating it into submission fails, he fails. Superman plans on being the strongest man in any fight. Oftentimes, he's exactly right. But, just as you said, Stygian...when it works consistently, they tend to rely on it. Your ability, your strength, and your size rarely fail you...just like Superman. And, just like Superman...you fail to accept the possibility of failure.

THAT is what makes me stronger. Unlike the rest of you, I go into every match not expecting to win, but expecting to lose. That's the problem with the rest of you. You go in with high expectations, and they simply get cut down the longer the match goes. You go in expecting an easy win, and you'll boast about it leading up to the match.

'This is a walk in the park for me!' 'I'll crush you in this match.' 'I can win because blah blah fucking blah.'

Me? I expect to lose, and I count on my own ability and talents to prove it wrong. I expect to lose, not because I think I'm not good enough, but because it forces me to have a backup plan. I ask myself that question before every match I ever walk into.

'What if I don't win?'

Then what? What becomes of my plan? What becomes of me? I expect to lose in order to fix this problem. I ensure that I am never without a backup.

You don't do that, do you, Styg? You can't wrap your head around this possibility that you won't walk out the winner...and when it inevitably does happen, and you find yourself on the losing side? That scares you. It's strange to you. I'll give you credit where it's due: You're a damn good competitor. But the problem with being good, is it leads to this delusion that you can't be beat. Superman does not think he can be beaten.

Because Superman is a simpleton. Superman is not a strategist. Superman is not a mastermind. Superman has one plan whenever he goes to battle: Problem arises? Punch it until it goes away.

...but what happens when it doesn't? What happens when you CAN'T physically beat something? What happens when the thing you're fighting can't be touched?

That is where Superman fails...and that is where you fail. You can pin me, Styg. I know you can, you've done it once before...but you can't beat me. You can't stop my plan simply by winning a match. It takes far, far more than that.

You cannot punch an idea, Stygian.

Which all leads back to that question that I know is eating away at everyone else in this match.

Why Apollos? What is this master plan of Chuck's, that he needs Apollos to be the IWF Champion for it to succeed? What is so important about Apollos being champion that Chuck is willing to put himself into the match, risk it all, just to ensure it happens? What is this brilliant plan?

Would you be surprised if I told you there wasn't one?

Shocking...but true. Contrary to what I told him, and what my actions might imply...I really do not care whether or not Apollos wins the title. If I win this match...cool. If Apollos wins? Awesome. If Stygian wins? Alright. If Steel wins? Whatever. This match, in fact, does absolutely nothing to affect my plans for the future.

So why put myself into the bout?

Ah...now it gets a tad more interesting. Just because I don't care who wins this match, does not mean I don't care who is the IWF Champion. Now you're about to see exactly how intricate and brilliant my plans are. You realize, I'm sure, that there is no one true plan. This is where I get to brag about my genius. There is no one plan...rather, a multitude of plans, all working together, intertwined with one another to create the illusion of one, as you will call it, 'master plan.' Reason number two why nobody can ever stop me? They can only stop one plan, at best. Nobody has been able to combat multiple schemes at once...and eventually, they realize that there are several different cons, all twisting and winding around, all leading to the same end result. Some work together...some stand alone...all will, eventually, get me what I'm after.

So what's the story, Chuck? What are you thinking this time?

Well...the end result...that's a story for another time. IWF after Fallout...that's what I'm most interested in. That is what you need to look at to determine what exactly I'm trying to do. You want to stop me? Look at IWF. Look at where it stands, and compare it to where I want it to stand. Then, maybe you'll realize exactly what my plan entails.

But the short-term? That's something I can share with you. Why did I put myself into the match if I actually don't care who walks out as the champion? What is so important about putting myself into the match?

I think you all have failed to think outside the box. Let's put it in other words:

A match with six people. Only five of them were filled. Why did Chuck make himself the sixth?

Simple. I needed to fill that final spot.

But why not another combatant?

Ah...well, again...let's put it in a different way:

Was Chuck trying to put himself IN to the match...or trying to keep someone else OUT?

I think I hear someone yelling "eureka!" It all makes sense now, doesn't it? You all see exactly what my reasons are, don't you? Why did I do it?

The simple answer? Revenge. Mason tried to take me out of action. He tried to retire me, permanently. Now that he's lost the belt...I am actively working to ensure that he never gets another chance so long as I am in charge. Be careful who you piss off, Chad. He had the nerve to tell people HE was the new smartest man in wrestling?

He's learning a painful lesson on why you do not make someone like me your enemy.

Natural Law...Human Highlight Reels...THAT is what I'm targeting. THAT is what IWF is going to be rid of. And you'll notice, I already have someone on top of that matter of business as we speak. At Fallout, we will see the decimation of Parker Wayde and Hostyle Jones by Silas Romero, and Romero will emerge as the High Impact Champion. Ruby Winters will fall at the hands of Ethan Cage. Rosalie Knight is already out, injured...and when Natural Law and Human Highlight Reels are left with no titles, and no means to get shots at those titles...they will be gone. Out of IWF. It ends at Fallout.

Is that my plan, then? That's what I'm working for? A personal vendetta?

You people should know me better.

No, there is something bigger happening here. Something that, not only will I not reveal quite yet, but something that when it is revealed, I don't think half of you will be smart enough to grasp what's going on.

As for this week...I don't care who win this match...but don't take that as a sign that I've given up on it. See...the IWF Championship...that is a valuable asset. While not necessary for my plans to continue, it would certainly make things a bit easier...

The main championship of the company? That carries immesurable weight. Weight that I can throw around. A championship belt that I can, as general manager, award to anyone on the roster I feel deserves it.

Ryan Apollos, maybe.

Silas Romero, perhaps.

I haven't quite decided yet. But that's for later. First thing's first...I need to win the damn thing.

Do I have a strategy going into this match? Of course. My plan is just as it always is. Look for the opportunity, and seize it. Do what I do best: Go in, fight, use my knowledge to my advantage. I've been called the best defensive wrestler in the world. The rest of you would do well to remember that.

Jack Savage...Corey's latest in a long line of Casey lapdogs. Explain to me why I should see you as anything more than the best mediocrity UECW could muster? You were the Omega Champion? Congratulations. Unfortunately, I have no interest in Omega Champions. I'm interested in world champions.

People like Steel Angel. Steel Angel who, much like Stygian, has beaten me in the past...unfortunately, that was a different time, a different place...and to date, Steel has never been able to beat me one on one.

People like Robbie Hart...except Hart has been coasting too long on his last name and his connection with the Chairman of the IWF board. What makes me better than you, Robbie, is the same thing that makes me better than your father. I don't need management to like me in order to succeed. I made my name by being better than the other guy. Hell...if I remember correctly, I slept with Carmine's wife, while he was running NLWF...and I STILL became the world champion. You? What have you done lately besides bitch about how nobody has acknowledged your title reign? You're the IWF Champion...why doesn't anyone care? Think about that, Hart.

Good God, I just had a flashback. Weird.

Apollos...I believe you know where you stand. Stay out of my way, and good things will come to you. I'm here to help you out. If you fuck this up, though...you can expect I will do everything in my power to fix your blunder, and win this title for myself. Do NOT fuck this up.

Which leads to Stygian...it all comes full circle to you, doesn't it?

You think you're better than me, don't you?

Because you've beaten me once? Shit, Robbie's beaten you once. I don't think I need to tell you where that argument will go. If I remember correctly, the two instances we've fought head-to-head, you've beaten me once...and the other, I speared you to a countout. I think, though I'd be surprised to hear you admit it...you know it is entirely within my abilities to beat you. You know damn well that I'm one of the best in the game. I've been to the top, fallen to the bottom, and clawed my way back. I've made a career out of beating people who claimed to be the best. I made a career out of doing things that were deemed impossible. I don't believe in impossibilities. I believe in improbabilities. The best men of our time are the ones who look at those improbabilities, and surpass them regardless.

Are you an improbability? Without a doubt. Are you an impossibility? Not a chance.

As I've said...I'm very good at fighting improbabilities.

Fact of the matter is, Styg...I don't need to kill you. I don't want to kill you.

I just have to beat you.

Good luck."

My Turn to Pay...

Fade in to the outside of a health club, presumably somewhere in in New Orleans, Louisiana. Stygian walks out the huge automated sliding-glass doors, dressed in a black Nike tank top and matching double mesh warmups, with a red St. Louis Cardinals bag slung over his shoulder. He scans the parking lot, until a honked horn draws his attention, causing him to look off to his left. He stares curiously, obviously not finding the car he’s looking for. A black Cadillac CTS V breaks from the line of cars and approaches Stygian, who stops, watching curiously. The car stops, and Stygian circles around to the passenger side as a tinted window is rolled down and Stygian’s old trainer, legendary wrestler Chuck Finley. Replete in his usual Hawaiian shirt and khakis, he flashes his usual grin to the big man.

Stygian: Chuck, this is unexpected.

Chuck Finley: Did you really think I would pass up an excuse to come to New Orleans and see my favorite pupil when he’s at a major crossroads in his life?

Stygian: It was mostly New Orleans, though, wasn’t it?

Chuck Finley: You know it! Get in.

Stygian: I need to call Tina, she’s due here any minute.

Chuck Finley: How do you think I knew where to find you? I caught her with Amber at the hotel pool, they already know. Let’s go, lunch, your turn to pay.

Stygian: Is it mine?

Chuck Finley: I picked up the tab in Miami.

Stygian nods.

Stygian: It is my turn, pop the trunk.

The trunk flips up and Stygian stashes his bag and climbs into the car. As it pulls off, we cut to inside of Mother’s Restaurant in New Orleans, highly recommended by New Orleans native Alexander Remington. Stygian and Chuck walk through the front doors, apparently in mid argument.

Stygian: …saying we can go to fucking Applebees anywhere. We’re in N’awlins, we should have some of the local cuisine.

Chuck Finley: I don’t know man, Cajun food can be a little…

Stygian: It’s just fine as long as you don’t ask too many questions about where it comes from.

Chuck Finley: Okay, but if I end up getting one of the many creative varieties of food poisoning known to man, I’m blaming you.

Stygian: Chill out man, come up here, we order at the counter.

Chuck Finley: You’ve been here before, haven’t you?

Stygian: Maybe once or twice. I’ve been in the Big Easy all week. Here, I’ll order for you.

Chuck Finley: Nothing that was scraped off the road.

Stygian: Trust me, I know you.

Stygian turns at the girl at the counter, who greets him with a smile, which he returns before ordering.

Stygian: I’ll have a sausage po’boy hold the cabbage, side of fries and Diet Pepsi. My friend here will have the soft shell crab po’boy with fries and a Heineken, and keep them coming. And we’ll both have the bread pudding for dessert.

The woman smiles and takes Stygian’s debit card for a swipe. She gives it back and points them to a table in the corner. The two of them walk over and sit down.

Chuck Finley: Bread pudding, huh?

Stygian: Worth killing for, here. Have I ever steered you wrong in a restaurant?

Chuck Finley: No, I suppose you haven’t. Alright, level with me.

Stygian: There’s no nasty surprises, Chuck. Nothing is made from any part of the animal you wouldn’t normally eat. It’s crab for chrissakes, you love crab.

Chuck Finley: That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.

Stygian sighs as a waitress brings by a glass of Diet Pepsi and a green Heineken bottle and sets them on the table. Chuck takes a swig of the brew, and tilts his head to the side.

Chuck Finley: I’m waiting. Come on! Corey Casey threatens to sell your wife to Alexander Remington and then signs the son of a bitch when UECW closes. You can lie to the cameras, you can lie to the fans, you can lie to the girls even…but you can’t lie to me! I know what you think of that lousy bastard.

Stygian takes a long time feeding his straw into the glass, through the floating ice cubes and taking a sip, he sets it down with a sigh.

Stygian: I’d like to believe it was all business. But I know better.

Chuck Finley: Are you sure? Sometimes you’re right, sometimes you’re paranoid.

Stygian: I’m…I’m 95% sure.

Chuck Finley: What do you know?

Stygian: I know they were talking since at least the WEW thing, Alex told me he reached out to Corey Casey then. So that’s about four months at least. Probably no longer. Alex had no reason to think I was coming back to IWF before that. In fact, I think he probably thought he’d talked me into coming back to UECW.

Chuck Finley: Had he?

Stygian: I never let Alexander Remington talk me into anything. I know better. When Alex was doing his new leaf routine? Saint Alex, the savior of UECW? I wasn’t buying it. I knew it was a matter of time before the real Alexander Remington turned up. Even when he had his concussion and he thought he was quitting and he tried to reach out? He wanted to be friends? Hell he even sent me a Christmas gift. But even then? I knew he was going to find a way to come after me.

Chuck Finley: You think he would have brought someone in to IWF and come after you?

Stygian: he would have found them, trained them, managed them and bribed whoever he needed to, to get them into some manner of hellish match with me.

Chuck Finley: You really have a low opinion of this man.

Stygian: Because I’ve seen a hundred like him. I’ve fought a hundred like him. I know how he works. Alexander Remington likes to think he’s this grand sweeping mastermind, that he’s this fated rival of mine. Alexander Remington thinks he’s the grand gatekeeper of my destiny. At the end of the day, he’s not. He’s really nothing special. He’s another guy who wants to make his name by beating me. At this point in my career, I’m used to that.

Chuck Finley: I think you have to admit that Alexander Remington isn’t just some other guy…

Stygian shakes his head.

Stygian: No, it is that simple. He’s got more skill, a lot more than most of these people who think they can do it, but at the end of the day, he’s just another guy who thinks he can beat me, and thinks it will make him a legend. I’ve got those guys all up and down the locker room. I’ve got three of them coming up this weekend.

Chuck Finley: Three? I thought there were five opponents?

Stygian: Robbie Hart has already beaten me, Chuck doesn’t need it to validate his career. He’d take it, but it’s not his motivation.

Chuck Finley: Ah, I see.

Stygian: But guys coming for my head to make their name? I’ve got them all over twitter. I’ve got them coming at me; I’ve got them wanting to take short term contracts in IWF just to face me. Alex is no different in that regard. His motivations aren’t complicated.

Chuck Finley: But his methods…even you didn’t see that coming. That stunt he and Corey pulled with Amber.

Stygian: That is where it gets tricky. Alex wasn’t dangerous before. Not like this. The fact that Chelle hated him, and Mike wouldn’t take shit off of him…that kept Alex in check in UECW. He didn’t have carte blanche to pick his shots. This alliance with Corey Casey is dangerous. In the short term…

Stygian sighs and takes a long sip of his Diet Pepsi.

Stygian: In the short term, Alex has a blank check. I mean eventually we all know what is going to happen: Alex is going to say or do the wrong thing; Corey is going to lose his mind, probably get drunk and turn Alex out into the cold. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s for Corey Casey to get drunk and make rash decisions. Alex doesn’t realize the fire he’s playing with, there.

Chuck Finley: It looks like you didn’t, either.

Stygian: Yeah. I mean, I thought we settled this. We had the match, we nearly killed each other, we shook hands in the middle of the ring the next week…I genuinely thought this was over.

Chuck Finley: Because alcoholics are remarkably consistent and forgiving.

Stygian: I know, I know. I counted on a hothead drunk to not hold a grudge.

Chuck Finley: You didn’t know UECW was as bad as it was, did you?

Stygian: That’s part of it.

Chuck Finley: And the other part?

Stygian: I didn’t think Alex would come here. I didn’t think he was still obsessed with me. I mean, why didn’t he just come here outright? Why go to UECW first?

Chuck Finley: Because you weren’t his biggest grudge. Chelle Fury was the bigger grudge, and he needed to settle that first. He needed to become UECW champion just so he could take a dump on the belt and rub her nose in it. Once he’d done that, then he could set his sights on you. I’ll tell you where you lost track of him, but you probably just figured it out.

Stygian: The injury?

Chuck Finley: The injury. You’re a smart guy Jason, you are. I mean, three degrees from Cal Tech? Two Masters’ degrees. Nobody can argue you aren’t a smart man. But you do tend to focus on only on the threats in the ring. That’s how you got fired, and that’s how Alexander Remington did an end around on you. Hell, he probably wasn’t ever really hurt.

Stygian: No, he was. He needed one of Eric Telfor’s schemes to come back from the brink. Telfor isn’t the kind of man Alex would promise a favor to if he didn’t need to. Even Alex isn’t as devious as that son of a bitch. You don’t end up in Eric Telfor’s debt if you can help it. He was really hurt.

Chuck Finley: Even so, your mistake was thinking this was about a match. It wasn’t. It was a matter of pride. And to Alexander Remington, pride is everything.

Stygian: he has plenty to be proud of.

Chuck Finley: It’s not his pride. It’s something he still doesn’t realize he can’t ever get. His father’s pride. You’re right, Alexander Remington isn’t complicated, he just wants his father to come up to him, stick his hand out and say, “Well done, son.” He doesn’t realize it ain’t gonna happen.

Stygian: Did you know his father?

Chuck Finley: Very well. Had some matches with him, traveled the roads with him, talked at great length. The guy was a piece of work. He had a head full of bad wiring. I mean, the man faked his death, that’s all you need to know about the level of egocentrism involved with Powerhouse.

Stygian: So Alex comes by being a self-centered prick honestly, then?

Chuck Finley: He does.

About that time, the waitress comes bearing a tray laden with two plates dominated by huge baguette sandwiches and heaped with home fries, as well as a fresh round of drinks. Chuck drinks the last of his beer and trades bottles, Stygian just has her set the full Diet Pepsi next to the half-full one. She’s very polite as she says she’ll be back to check on them later.

Chuck Finley: Jesus…THIS is a sandwich.

Stygian: I know, right?

Chuck picks up the po’boy and looks it over.

Chuck Finley: That’s a lot of crab.

Stygian: It is. I want to get one of these to go one time, and then go to Subway and have them make me a sandwich, and when I get to the checkout pull a Crocodile Dundee on them. “That’s not a sandwich!”

Stygian holds up his po’boy and menaces Chuck as much as one human being can “menace” another with a fucking sandwich.

Stygian: “Now ‘at’s a sandwich.”

The two of them laugh and dig in, taking a few bites. After Chuck puts his down and washes it down with a swig of German beer he clears his throat.

Chuck Finley: Okay, I owe you an apology, this is wonderful. I think the wife and I might have to come back here tonight.

Stygian: I don’t dare eat here too often.

Chuck Finley: Yes, you need to watch your girlish figure.

Stygian: Hey, you can’t be Superman with a fucking pot belly!

Chuck Finley: Oh, I know. I wouldn’t even try on your ring gear eating like I do now.

There’s several moments of silent eating, as guys tend to without women to blab every three seconds, before Chuck puts his sammich back down, takes a pull off his green bottle and clears his throat.

Chuck Finley: So what is the plan?

Stygian: To take half of it home, at this rate.

Chuck Finley: I mean for Remington and Corey Casey.

Stygian: Alex is too powerful when he’s aligned with Corey Casey. He can call his own plays and Corey will let him run them. Alex can be broken, but Corey is easier. Corey has a temper. Corey has himself wrapped up in this too deeply. You saw what he did to try and get a fake title away from me. What will he make Alex do to get the real one back.

Chuck Finley: So the world title is your next step?

Stygian nods.

Stygian: It’s the only leverage I can get. It’s the only thing I can use to manipulate Corey at this rate. I mean, there is Jessica and the twins.

Chuck Finley: Whoa…messing with a man’s family?

Stygian: he messed with mine first.

Chuck Finley: Yeah, but I know you. You don’t like that. I don’t care what you say on Twitter, I know you don’t want to hurt a man’s wife and kids.

Stygian: He attacked me through my wife. And Alex has no loyalties. He has no other way to hurt him, except with my hands around his throat in the ring. As long as Corey Casey is signing his “Please excuse Alex from gym class today, he can’t fight Stygian,” note, I have nothing much I can do.

Chuck Finley: So you’d go after a woman and a pair of toddlers.

Stygian: I have to do something, Chuck. Corey plays this off as all business…even if he is dumb enough to believe it; to Alex this is a war. Threatening Lilith’s contract, threatening to take her? Bottom line? Corey Casey isn’t that smart. If Alex was aligned with Chuck Matthews? I’d give either one of them evensum chance. But not Corey. Corey is a reactive creature, not a proactive one. Corey wouldn’t threaten to sell my wife to Alexander Remington. Corey would attack me with a chair and make me watch him put her through a table.

Chuck Finley: Jason, you’re probably right. But how far are you willing to go with this? Jessica and the twins?

Stygian: Corey changed the rules of engagement.

Chuck Finley: You ever consider this is exactly what Corey says it is? Just a business deal? I mean, bringing in Alexander Remington, Alex Raven, Griffin Hawkins, Jack Savage and the like…that is good business.

Stygian: And wouldn’t better business be to sign right away the match everyone has wanted to see since Alex whacked my ass with a barbwire baseball bat?

Chuck Finley: I suppose you have a point…

Stygian: Alexander Remington wants to beat me to pad his own ego and further his own legend. He wants that, but he wants an edge. He wants an edge because he doesn’t think he has the tools to do it straight up. That’s why he orchestrated this thing with Lilith’s contract. That’s why he’s hiding behind Corey Casey now. Alex doesn’t want the match until he’s ready. And I don’t want to think about what he’s going to do to get ready. If I wait for Alexander Remington to be ready to fight me, I’m asking for a stacked deck. Who knows what he and Corey will have done to me by then. Alex would do as Commodus did in Gladiator: stab me in the back and put my armor on me before the crowd saw it. For Alex a win gotten through scheming and plotting is just as good as a win earned in the center of the ring. By the time Alex has sprung his trap, Lilith and Lilah could be severely hurt, and I might be limping to the ring just so he can take me out behind the barn and shoot me.

Chuck Finley: When you put it that way, I can see why you’re desperate enough to threaten Corey’s family.

Stygian: If Alex had a family he gave a damn about? I’d threaten them. But Alex is like DeNiro in Heat; he doesn’t have anything or anyone in his life he can’t walk away from in 15 seconds if it threatens him. That’s probably why Jaci left him. He’s fixated. He gets locked on to someone and it consumes him. He’s obsessed. He’s obsessed with Raven, and when he’s done there, he’ll turn his attention to me. I need to accelerate the time table. If I can, I’ll do that by winning the World Title. If there’s anything Corey hates more than the idea of me with a fake IWF world title, it’ll be seeing me with the real one.

Chuck Finley: Beating five other guys in an elimination match, though? That won’t be easy.

Stygian: I’d be more worried if it was a one-fall to a finish ordeal. Elimination means I need to be pinned. Pinned, because I have too much riding on this to tap out. The only way I am leaving without that belt is if they carry me out. Because I don’t know where I would get another chance after tonight. IWF is bi-polar. Chuck is the Commissioner, Corey is the Chairman of the Board. Chuck would give me a shot if he felt I’d earned it, but Corey has the power to put all kinds of hoops in my way for me to jump through. I have to step twice as fast and be twice as good to stay on Chuck’s mind and ahead of Corey’s bias. Corey is retired, Chuck is semi-retired. Chuck doesn’t want to be champion for any great length. Corey has no control over his professional life except what he can exert through others. What he can hold over IWF. He can’t get in the ring, so he’s angling to control the action in it vicariously. Whether he realizes it or not, that will eventually lead him to ideological odds with Chuck. The only saving grace I will have at that point is I think I’ll be able to count on Chuck as an ally of convenience. Chuck doesn’t need to pick the champion, he just needs to make sure it isn’t Corey’s chosen one: Alex.

Chuck Finley: Well, I guess you’d better win this weekend then. Because I know you, Jason. You may have just been a computer geek in the Air Force, but you believe in the rules of engagement. You believe in honor. You don’t believe in harming civilians. You can’t get too caught up in this war, Jason. If you do, you’ll lose yourself. If you let yourself sink to Corey Casey’s level, you won’t be able to live with yourself. I don’t care how you justify it, Jason, I know you. You’re not someone for whom the end justifies the means. Not at that level. Yeah, you’ve cheated to win a few matches, but you always heart other wrestlers. Guys who agreed to put themselves on the line. An innocent woman and a couple of kids? That’s not you, Jason.

Stygian: And I hope it never will be. But if I have to?

Chuck’s expression changes perceptibly, he watches Stygian pick up his sandwich and take a few more bits of it in silence, before he lifts his Heineken and drains it in one long gulp. He turns to the waitress as she walks by.

Chuck Finley: Ma’am, I’m gonna need another two of these.

As the waitress walks off, Chuck looks at Stygian, whi is still eating, oblivious to his companion’s loss of humor.

Chuck Finley: My god, you have thought this through.

Stygian nods, putting his sandwich down and sipping some Diet Pepsi.

Stygian: So you believe I’d go after Jess and the kids?

Chuck Finley: Yeah.

Stygian: Good. If I can make you believe, I can make Corey Casey believe it when I need to.

Chuck Finley: Jesus, you were scaring me, Jase. So you’re not going to go through with it?

Stygian: I don’t know. Hopefully the mere idea, when I need it to, scares Corey enough that he won’t push me to make a decision. I’m hoping the threat will be enough.

Chuck Finley: You and me both, brother.

The waitress brings Sam two green bottles and he takes a long drink of one, and stares at his own reflection in it, before looking across to Stygian.

Chuck Finley: You and me both…

Fade out as Sam sets the bottle down and digs back into his po’boy and fries.