Stygian [vs.] Baron Tompson

FLAME ON!

I mean...uh...Pyro vs. The Dragon...this should be a FLAMING affair...

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BURN BABY BURN!

A Thousand Year Empire, huh?

Stygian leaned heavily on the paramedics as they helped him from the ringside area after Baron Thompson’s savage attack with the fire extinguisher. He looked over his shoulder and cast his eyes upon the new IWF World Heavyweight Champion as the members of The Empire paraded around the ring with him on their shoulders. He fixed his gaze first on Parker Wayde as he held the championship belt aloft as though it were the Stanley Cup. His eyes quickly shifted to Baron Thompson, the man who had screwed him over. He knew that the time for rematch with Parker Wayde would soon be at hand, however in his mind the first order of business was to plant his foot in Thompson’s throat and teach that little cocksucker a lesson.

As he made his way through the curtain he’d finally regained enough of his faculties to walk without assistance from the EMTs. Lilith and Lilah followed closely behind him as he wound his way through the back passages of the MTS Center. He peeled off his flame-demolished shirt and cast it, since it was ruined, into one of those large industrial garbage containers that are usually found at these public venues. The skin on his back was stained with a gradient of first-and-second-degree-burns ranging from lightish-pink to dark red. Lilith winced as she beheld her husband’s back, touching it lightly with purple-polished nails.

Lilith: Jesus, does that hurt?

Stygian shrugged.

Stygian: I’ve had worse, I’ve had a lot worse.

Lilith: I know, but that doesn’t make this any better. That guy with you on fire!

Stygian: Yeah and he’s gonna pay for that, his check’s actually coming due before Wayde’s. First Baron “Blaze” Thompson pays for trying to crush my fucking skull, and then Parker Wayde gets the unique joy of facing me in the Hellzone. I’ve got a rematch coming in at the end of the month everyone’s going to see that Parker Wayde is just a transitional champion than that I’m still the real deal. Tonight he had the deck stacked, he had Corey Casey as a guest ref and Baron Thompson was waiting with a plan to make sure that I didn’t leave at the championship belt. But – that shit only works once there’s no way in hell Corey Casey gets to be a guest ref again and I’m pretty sure Griffin Hawkins is going to finally catch up with “Blaze” and tear him a new ass hole. While Griffin takes care of Blaze, I get Parker in a triple cage where he will learn a new definition of pain and suffering as I rupture his vital organs in alphabetical order.

Lilah: We’re totally not watching if you do another one of those matches I don’t care who you’re fighting.

Lilith: Don’t worry Lilah; this one will not be so bad he’s fighting Parker Wayde.

Lilith rolled her eyes and had to stifle a giggle as she said the new champion’s name. Like so many others who just witnessed that she couldn't believe the turn of events either.

Lilith: Corey Casey is a finely-honed psychopath with a long history of violent behavior and destructive matches. I was actually worried about what he might do to Jase. As pissed off as he’s gonna be at Parker Wayde? This is gonna be a match so much is this going to be a publicly-televised execution. They should sell tickets and tax them at the highest rate and balance the budget. They’re going to take this match and edited into a public service announcement film entitled “Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons, for You Are Crunchy and Taste Good With Ketchup.”

Lilah: Yeah, you’re right… I suppose you’re gonna get all wet in the panties watching this…

Lilah shakes her head and rolls her eyes as the three of them come to Stygian’s dressing room. Stygian pushes open the door and steps inside Lilith and Lilah both sink onto a black leather couch near the back wall while Stygian slumps into his locker and rests his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He sits bolt upright bawling his fists and screaming at the ceiling.

Stygian: FUCK!

Lilith and Lilah both jolts however recover quickly Lilith sighs and nods as though this was a reaction she was expecting.

Lilith: You okay lover?

Stygian stares at the ceiling in silence for several long seconds before finally meeting his wife’s gaze and sighing with signed acceptance of the nights events.

Stygian: No, I’m not okay. I’m not remotely fucking okay! But there’s not a god damn thing I can do about it tonight!

Lilith: Well… I’m sure there are several things Lilah and I can do to take your mind off of things.

Stygian just laughed unlacing his boots and setting them off to one side. The locker room was quiet for several seconds as the three of them began shedding the night’s attire in preparation for the trip back to the hotel room.

Stygian: Do you think we have time to swing back past home for a few days or is the next show too far away?

Lilith dug her iPhone out of her bag and brought the device to life with a flick of her fingertips. The LED display illuminated her delicate pale features in soft blue light as her sharp eyes scanned the screen until she seemingly had found the answer her husband was looking for. She looked up at Stygian and shook her head replacing the phone in her bag.

Lilith: Our next stop is in Milwaukee, we won’t have enough time to get from Winnipeg to Denver to Milwaukee and spend any decent amount of time in in Denver.

Stygian: Ah, Wisconsin. The land of Ryan Apollos and cheese.

Lilith: You say those two things as though they were separate things.

Stygian laughs and nods, pulling a large red St. Louis Cardinals Beach towel out of his large red St. Louis Cardinals duffel bag. He throws the towel over his shoulder and walked to the back of the dressing room.

Stygian: Well then I’m going to take a shower… Then we’ll go back to the hotel room, I'll pour nice big glass of scotch and take the two of you up on that offer to clear my head.

Stygian wandered around the closed pool of his hotel, dressed in black Adidas sweats with white stripes running up the sides and a red shirt with black and white stripes intended to look like Eddie Van Halen’s famous guitar. He had a scotch in his hand and a lot on his mind as he settled in one of the deck chairs and looked across the placid, still water of the unoccupied, undisturbed swimming pool.

Stygian: You know I’ve been doing this for about 7 years now. Nearly 7 years since I started by punching a drunk, once-famous wrestler on the chin and knocking in the fuck out. That’s how this whole odyssey started, you know? I was a security guard fresh out of the Air Force playing rent-a-cop by day and bouncing the kind of bar that would make the one in Roadhouse look like a Mitt Romney fundraiser by night. I was nobody; a punk 25-year-old kid with two Masters degrees nobody gave a shit about standing around in a tight, black muscle shirt and Ray Bans with an earpiece in and a scowl on my face guarding some stadium arena or gated house, protecting it from the “unwashed masses” so that whomever had a sufficient investiture of money in the continued preservation of that particular edifices structural integrity felt a little bit better in the back of their mind when they bothered to give a fuck about some piece of property that some large man with a military background was standing out in front of it with an impassable imposing glare and a Glock 17 on his hip.

Stygian takes a long sip from the glass of scotch resting idly in his cradled hands and size as the liquor burns down his throat.

Stygian: You know before that I was a hot shit basketball player in high school; then of course I was an engineer in the Air Force… I’d known nothing but sacrifice and discipline for pretty much my entire life and I brought that demeanor and professionalism to my work as a security guard. Of course the pay was so lousy that I had to take the aforementioned bouncing job and any pretext of discipline, sacrifice or professionalism went out the window as soon as the sun went down the lights came up. Roadhouse really gets fuck-all right about bouncing. Maybe it’s just because I was 7 feet tall and built like a futuristic war machine from a James Cameron movie, but I sure as hell didn’t get into a fight every night. And I never battled corporate corruption in the beleaguered small town anywhere in the South. It was actually, probably some of the funnest, most decadent times in my entire life. I realize living as a professional wrestler who is polyamorous with two beautiful Playboy-caliber models who seems to drink nothing but scotch smoke expensive cigars and hell I don’t know what the hell else you think I do… I realize that being a broke 25-year-old living out of a 1970 Oldsmobile 442 dozen sound like the pinnacle of decadence or excess. Yet consider; we were all a bunch of young 20 something kids who didn’t know our ass from a hole in the ground. We lived in this sort of layer of Southern California that was under the glamorous life you see up on the silver screen or TiVo from week to week with your favorite sitcom or soap opera. Granted there were plenty of episodes in my life at that point in time which were like a sitcom or soap opera; the other bouncers and I had sort of a system where we would divide up the girls as they walked in that night sort of like a draft with the selection order was determined by some sort of arbitrary contest that it occurred while we are at the bar before it opened (most of us were, and frequently) usually some manner of contest on one of the many “well-loud” pool tables or on the pinball machine, or the pinball machine, or perhaps one of the “how-in-the-Hell-were-they-still-functioning” arcade machines nestled in the back corner of the bar. We divided them up. All of us had about 10 to 15 girls were allowed to hit on for the night and none of us were allowed to cross into another man’s allotment without permission. Of course, this being a fair and balanced draft; picks were frequently traded and shipped off usually in the form of, “I struck out with the blond with the big bombs, mind if I take a swing at that Asian of yours in the Lakers shirt with a nice ass and the tramp stamp?” Disputes were handled by the Commissioner: the gay bartender who more often than not facilitated our hookups while we steered those of his persuasion up to the bar. That’s what teamwork was all about really.

Stygian: I’m getting too far off the point, aren’t I? I was talking about the decadent lifestyle I lived back then and I don’t bring it up because I want people to think I was some sort of “playa” or “stud”… No, I bring it up because it is a contrast to the life of discipline and regiment that I undertook even as an aspiring high school athlete much less the more extreme forms of discipline and control my life fell under when I was an Air Force officer. I always say that I set out upon that chapter of my life with the intention of becoming a new Kerouac. Of course Kerouac’s cross-country sojourn was a soul searching tale of the human condition and the American way of life at that time and a young man finding his place of the world. In retrospect? All I did was drink a lot of Black Label and try to home in on the hottest girl who would let me go home with her that night so I didn’t have to sleep in my car. Nothing so noble as Kerouac I’m afraid. It was fun, don’t get me wrong. But it was ultimately unfulfilling. So when that formerly-famous wrestler happened to get drunk and take a swing at me with a steel chair on that fateful night I often feel that it was destiny which grabbed hold of my right hand and thrust it towards his jaw with such force that his eyes rolled back in his head like a cartoon any fell flat on his back in a position I haven’t seen professional contortionists attain easily. It was a gateway into this, the life of an athlete. I kind of dedication and discipline I hadn’t been forced to maintain in years. It was a sudden sense of purpose my life, at that time lacked. It was a direction I desperately needed when I sorely lacked one.

Stygian laughs turning and stretching his long legs out along the length of the deck chairs easing his way back it is fortunate, fortuitous even that the seat happens to have a cup holder which Stygian’s precious scotch can rest within.

Stygian: Well would you look at that? A cup holder! You know, with everything that’s happened tonight… Blaze trying to surgically grafted a fire extinguisher to my skull twice… Parker Wayde and Corey Casey’s stealing my world title… Finding a nice comfy deck chair with a cup holder is the luckiest I’ve been all night.

Stygian takes a swig of his scotch, replaces the cup and suddenly has an epiphany.

Stygian: Come to think of it, I actually spent the last… 4 1/2 hours… “Getting lucky.” Give or take. So maybe finding a fucking cup holder ain’t that remarkable after all.

Stygian shrugs and folds his arms behind his head looking up through the skylight at the Winnipeg nighttime sky and sighing.

Stygian: You all have to realize that this is not going to end well for you, don’t you? You all have to know that as soon as you started this you all signed your own fucking death warrants, right? Hell you guys are in The Empire, you take your orders from Corey Casey. Did you guys see what I did to Corey Casey? Hell I broke the man’s back and put them out of the sport and he was the one who was mad at me. I wronged him and I’m the one who came after him like a fucking Liam Neeson movie. Tell me did any of you guys see Taken 2 ? It wasn’t as good as the original I’ll admit. In fact, it was pretty much the same movie all over again… Not that I have any problem with that. I saw a meme floating around the Internet where it had Liam Neeson in various roles he’s played well the past 12 years and said Liam Neeson is Zeus and Aslan which makes him a god in at least two religions, Aslan being a very thinly veiled metaphor for Jesus Christ of course. He also trained Batman Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. He also punches wolves. Why would you fuck with his family?

Stygian: So here’s what I don’t get guys; I’ve beaten Chuck Matthews twice, I retired Brandon Macdonald when he was at the height of his game and to the world title from him, I broke Corey Casey’s back, I out-brawled James Shark, my first match here I beat Tim McDonald in a hard-core match that he picked. So far in my American career alone I have retired 12 men I have won five world titles. I have been in the ring with an beaten the best IWF has to offer if you look down the list of the next, Hell, let’s say 12 inductees into the IWF hall of fame in addition to being some of the best wrestlers of all time the other thing they will have in common? They have all lost to me, with the exception of SBK Johnny Styles. I took five of the most prominent and respected men in IWF today kicked their asses and took the world title. I’m listing up my resume because when they loop this back around; what I said about I was the one who fucked Corey Casey over and I’m the one who came after him with a vengeance your member that? Just like Liam Neeson in Taken here’s what you’re dealing with: If you’re looking for title belt I can tell you have nothing to offer you, but what I do have are particular set of skills; skills I’ve acquired over very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. You could just give me back my world title right now and that will be the end of it. I will not look for you. I will not pursue you. But if you don’t? I will look for you. I will find you. And I will kill you.

Stygian: I pose this all to you because I want you to consider one thing: if I broke a man’s back, threatened his livelihood and drove him out of the sport when I was the one who wronged him? What the hell do you guys think I’m going to do to Parker Wayde for standing there in grinning like an idiot while Corey Casey counted me out? You know Parker all you did in that moment; was you proved that you do not deserve the belt you wound up carrying around that ring as The Empire held you will loft on their shoulders like Sean Astin in Rudy like you truly accomplish something. You see Parker you’re not a champion you’re just the title holder. All you really accomplish that night, you and the whole of The Empire, is showing the world just how far it is any of you have to ascend before any of you are worthy of being called a champion in the sport. It was like in the early 90s when Michael Jordan Scottie Pippen in the Bulls were up-and-coming? 91, 92, 93? They were the young hot shit team everybody thought was just a matter of time, but they kept running into the Detroit Pistons. You see, nobody told Detroit that the Bulls were the new champions. You see they still had to get past the Pistons every year they would get right up further along the playoffs and then Detroit would show up with Isaiah Thomas, Bill Laimbeer and Dennis Rodman and just when the young bucks in Chicago thought that the title was theirs for the taking… The Pistons smacked them down and showed them what championship mettle was.

Stygian: Because you see in most sports that’s how it has to be done. Most sports you have to earn your way to a title, oh but the “joys” of professional wrestling, huh? Professional wrestling is unique in so much as if you can’t win a match honestly, sensation Parker Wayde knows all too well with getting in the ring with me, you can find enough ways to rig the game so that you win anyway. I admit I’ve sunk to some underhanded tricks in my time to win matches we all have but I have never gotten my friend to be the guest referee and I’ve never had a psychopath waiting in the back with a… Hell I think it was a can of Aqua Net and an aim and flame… And a fire extinguisher just to ensure I left the arena as champion; weight, I mean as a “titleholder”. In Parker Wayde you are all over Twitter telling everybody how you beat me how you kicked my ass how you made me cry; that’s really how you want to play this, huh? Okay, have your fun talk your shit take your victory lap, boy. Because in just a few short weeks you’re gonna have hell to pay one easy installment.

Stygian reaches down, gripping his glass lifting it and tipping it back, downing the rest of the scotch. He carefully returns the glass to the cupholder plants his hands on the armrest of the chair and pushes them itself up to sit straight.

Stygian: But first… There is just one tiny, insignificant, sexually transmitted disease that I must rid The Insurgency of first. Actually, that seems little dramatic does it not? I’m not going to read the insurgency of Baron Thompson; but that son of a bitch is going to answer to me for his actions at Pick Your Poison. Baron, Baron, Baron… You have been a bad monkey. I know what you’re thinking, I know you’re thinking that… Well you could been thinking one of any number of things really; perhaps you are thinking that if you didn’t do something Corey Casey would fire you or disown you or deny you his penis, all of which would probably have ruined your night, I get it. Or maybe you are just trying to “help out a friend”. Hell, I don’t have a lot of friends in the business but I had a lot of friends in the military so even that I could potentially understand. Maybe you were afraid Parker would deny you his penis. I know that the primary motivation for your actions in costing me the IWF world heavyweight title was because someone’s penis was going to be denied to you and wouldn’t end up in your ass before the night was through. I would feel the same way if Lilith or Lilah denied me sex, so I get it: you wanted The D.

Stygian: But in securing the blessings of your sex life you neglected to consider the profound effect this was going to have on your actual life. Ask yourself either of the following questions, whichever is applicable to you: is Corey Casey’s penis worth dying for? Is Parker Wayde’s penis worth dying for? I'm not an expert on getting boned up the ass… Actually come to think of it after tonight I am! Because just like either one of those Empire flunkies is doing to you…

Stygian points off towards the main body of the hotel where the bulk of the rooms are located.

Stygian: …as I speak… Well, you did the same thing to me much earlier in the night. I hope in your case whichever one of those gentlemen is the very special man in your life is using lube because you sure as hell didn’t use any on me! “Bite the pillow Stygian, we’re going in dry!” Son of a bitch, dude. You grab a fire extinguisher, fuck a man in the ass and don’t have the common courtesy to give him a reach around. That’s all I was wanti… Actually I was hoping to leave with the title belt and not be violated at all, but since that bird has long since flown the fucking coupe; you could’ve at least been gentle about it. I mean Jesus dude, you lit me on fire and that was bad enough, insert obligatory “Dragon not fireproof” joke here, and then you brained me with a fire extinguisher. You did it so well in fact, that it wasn’t until well after the whole fucking party was over and I was backstage as Lilith and Lilah were showering, that I was delivered a DVD of the nights match as per my usual request and I find out that you went Gallagher on my skull a SECOND time! Really? Was that necessary? Didn’t you say all you needed to say with the first shot to the head

Stygian: I suppose you had to. Even with the second shot I almost beat the 10 count. It took a crooked ref arbitrarily changing the match and you coming down with fire and a solid steel equalizer and I still barely stayed down for the fucking 10 count did I not? I’ve heard that the quickest way to kill a snake is to just chop its head off and let it go. I suppose it would be quicker to crush its head with a large rock after all the body and head can maintain some form of consciousness for several seconds after decapitation however a blunt object large enough to squish the brain in one shot? That would pretty much be instant-fucking-taneous wouldn’t it? So this was about destroying The Empire? Well, that night in the Hellzone I thought I was going to have to kill Corey Casey. If I truly wanted to bring the curtain down on your little boy band I would just finish that job. But this is about “destroying the Empire” let Alexander Remington and Griffin Hawkins worry about that bullshit. I’m not worried about anything so grandiose as “saving IWF”. Bottom line? All IWF is ever done for me is treated me as an employee; no better, no worse. I don’t feel particularly engendered to risk my life, my welfare or my career to save it from something that really it has never needed saving from before. You ever notice all these guys come up with these factions, these gangs, the stables… What the fuck ever you want to call them. And all of them are gonna take over the world, and then the next week rolls around. I have to admit this little endeavor by Corey Casey, “The Empire” is more successful than, well just about every other fucking faction that has launched since I got here. It at least claimed a World Title from an actual Champion and not Steel Angel. Brandon, Chuck and Corey all came from NLWF and they all came with this plan; they’d all seen what they are able to do as members of Bad Company in NLWF and they thought they would run that same God damn tired shit here. Of course it never worked did it? It didn’t work when Chuck Matthews and Jason Hawk teamed up and called it Apex, when that didn’t work they pulled out the NLWF Rolodex, roped Corey Casey and Brandon MacDonald into things and… Spectacularly failed to do anything significant. Oh Brandon was world champion during that time? He won the belt with a very questionable briefcase cash in and he won it before they got this little abortion together and called it “Upper Limit”. Upper Limit had three different titles involved in it of course they were all won before Upper Limitless formed… And they were all lost before Upper Limit decided to call it quits. Chuck and Jason? Chuck speared Jason in the middle of the ring and left them to rot with his half of the tag team titles, I believe they were vacated and somehow bounced around until they wound up around the waists of James Shark and Cody Taylor. Nobody’s seen the God damn tag belt since then. The world title? I think… If memory serves… God, Brandon MacDonald lost that to somebody… Who was… OH WAIT IT WAS ME!

Stygian: You really fucked with the wrong guy “Blaze”. You failed to see the big picture. In securing the title in and this bullshit “Thousand Year Empire” Corey Casey keeps bullshitting people with on twitter? First of all Parker’s gonna lose his first defense, because it’s going to be to ME! It won’t be thousand year Empire it’ll be a 31 day Empire! 31, 32… I’m not sure which. And it’s going to come crashing down to a fucking and because I’m going to make sure what happened at Pick Your Poison can’t happen again. First I’m going to teach you a lesson in respect starting this Saturday. And not just respect for me. I know you don’t have any respect for me it’s one of the reasons your life expectancy is dramatically shorter than the average person’s. You just don’t have respect for the sport, you don’t have respect for this company, you don’t have respect for the way things should be done. I know, I know who am I to talk about cheating? Yes, I’ve cheated to win a few matches here and there, I don’t deny that. But I always did it on my own. I never had friends; I never had a crooked ref… I occasionally had Lilith and Lilah hand me weapons or shake their boobs at the ref, it’s kind of why they dress the way they do, but I never mugged a man into the title from him. You didn’t build 1000 year Empire all you did was show the world exactly how dominant I am. All you did was show the world that the play that Corey Casey Brandon MacDonald and Chuck Matthews tried to run with Upper Limit, the same play James shark and Cody Taylor tried to run with Teen Swag, Hell even the same play Chad Mason tried to run with Natural Law is a losing play! It never wins in IWF. All the gang warfare thing does is give someone a quick boost and then slowly fall apart, usually well I step in and put my foot in their throat. Hell the only faction I didn’t personally dismantle was Natural Law; Robbie Hart did that before I had the chance.

Stygian: Tell me something Blaze; do you really think I’m afraid of you? Why? Because you set me on fire? Do you think I’ve never been set on fire before? I’ve been set on fire, Blaze. I’ve been set on fire; I’ve been beaten with… Just about anything you could find in a God damn wrestling arena; steel chairs, cookie sheets, toolboxes and their contents; I’ve been locked in caskets, I’ve been put through tables, I’ve been flayed to the bone with barbed wire. So who the fuck are you to try and assume you scare me? Why? Because you let me on fire and hit me with a fire extinguisher, right? So what are you going to do Blaze? You going to get your best growly voice going and flick your zippo and lean way to the camera and whisper way down low and promised me pain and make some ill-conceived metaphor about fire and burning and probably a fucking Dragon joke…

Stygian rolls his eyes and scoffs finally looking back into the camera.

Stygian: when you made your move tonight, whether it was at the behest of Parker Wayde or Corey Casey all you really did was piss me off. I honestly hadn’t given The Empire much notice until they came after the world title and I expected to defend it successfully. Once that was done I was just can let you guys self-destruct the way everyone else does probably with Alex Remington and Griffin Hawkins put their foot in your crack and sending you on your merry way. Because you guys doublecrossed Alexander Remington and while that tickles me a bit you shouldn’t do that without a plan of how you’re going to handle him. I don’t like the man that doesn’t mean I underestimate him. You guys a made a powerful enemy and who’s gonna save you from him? Parker Wayde? “Oh, Parker save us, please!” Without Corey Casey calling the match and you waiting in the wings to brain his opponent with the fire extinguisher, Parker Wayde couldn’t save The Empire from The Ninja. Here’s another fun fact for you: Parker Wayde doesn’t truly give a damn about you Thompson. All you were was a means to an end. Parker has his brand shiny new title and he thinks he’s king of the world. You? You’re just a loyal subject you better be prepared to bow the fuck down and kiss his feet when he tells you do. That’s what he’s gonna start saying pretty soon, mark my fucking words. I want you to keep this in mind as we go forward. I want you to remember this Saturday night. Because as your lying there after one of the worst fucking beatings from just about the best professional wrestler in the world I want you to remember that you brought it all upon yourself for somebody who doesn’t give a damn about you Thompson. I really don’t care what happens to you after I’m done with you. Because I kind of like the guy, because he has great taste in music, because he is a sense of humor I can kind of dig I’m going to leave just enough of you left for Griffin Hawkins to settle up with. I’ll let him finish you off. Like a Mortal Kombat tag match. I just want to beat the living hell out of you for what you did to me tonight in Montréal. All that bullshit about killing the state by cutting off its head?

Stygian shakes his head.

Stygian: That’s the most humane method to be sure. I’m not interested in being humane and I’m damn sure interested in being sure. You should’ve left me alone. You should’ve left Parker Wayde to his fate. You should’ve left me alone. The Empire was always going to fail it was its fate to fail as every faction has failed before it. It could’ve died with a bang, it could’ve died with a whimper. But now it’s going to die screaming. And I’m not can start with the head of The Empire. Everyone who was in that ring, who was in that arena, who had a hand in stealing my title from me is going to pay. I’m eventually going to finish the job I started with Corey Casey in the Hellzone. It’s an inevitability that I will reclaim the world heavyweight title from Parker Wayde. But first and foremost under the start with the snakes ass: that’s you Blaze! You get to pay first. You get to die first. So I hope wherever the hell you are tonight you’re living it up, buddy. I hope you’re drinking copious amounts of liquor and toasting yourself in the mirror telling yourself how clever you were for speaking up on me and hitting me with the fire extinguisher and allowing your butt buddy to take the world title. Because the celebration comes to a screeching halt in… Oh, about six days.

Stygian: It starts with you Baron and it starts Saturday. Here’s how the path is going to go, Baron; you’re walking down the that ring in Milwaukee and you aren’t walking out. You’re going to be carried out. Not just for setting me on fire. Not just for bringing me with a fire extinguisher. Not just for costing me the IWF world heavyweight title. You get to answer for all of your sins against Superman. In a very real way you elevated yourself with one or two swings a fire extinguisher higher than your career was ever, EVER, going to go on its own. Before that fateful night in Winnipeg you are just another errand boy for Corey Casey. But now suddenly here you are on the cover of Superman. You been up the list villain most your career but suddenly the big man wants a piece of you. It’s only too bad you not going to survive this encounter Baron. Because what I’m going to do to you? It’s going to make you famous. After I’m done with you I will of course matriculate on to that sham of a champion carrying around the belt you guys all stole from me. After I have taken his title locked him in a casket and probably set it on fire in the same match in which I crippled your benefactor; I am going to seek out that selfsame benefactor and he will pay for what he’s done. Not with money, not even with blood… Really once I took the man’s career, his livelihood, his pride and his vaunted Double Cage Horror undefeated streak? The man has nothing I really truly want to take from him. In my eyes he has nothing at all. But even a man who has nothing can still offer his life.

Stygian once again focuses on the skylight overhead as the camera slowly fades out.