Eric Steel [vs.] Alexander Remington

The newest member of The Empire takes on the new IWF World Heavyweight Champ!

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As always, posting the un-coded text below this to ensure no editing is done and for those whose computers suck But the official rp is the linked version.

Prologue
Inside The Mind

~ It isn't the strength of a man that determines his greatness, nor is it the value of his mind, but rather it is a combination of the two that defines him. I knew that the day I chose to leave the Empire would either be a change for the better or for the worse, and each had its own equal likelihood of occurring. But the choice itself was simple. Remain with the Empire, and all that I achieved during my tenure in the Insurgency would ultimately come with an asterisk. There would be those who would say that I couldn't have achieved all that I did without the backing of Corey Casey. Depart from the Empire, and I could carve out my own legacy, and there would be none who could make an excuse.

Still, the risk was high. I would be fighting against all the forces of the world that Corey Casey would bring against me. He is a vengeful soul - a blessing and a curse in my estimation. A blessing, for he never knows when to give up or give in; a curse for the selfsame reason. I was risking my livelihood, for even though I was great for business, Corey Casey would only view me through the colors of traitor-tinted glasses, and he would do everything within his power to remove me from the roster.

He would attempt to end my career. Everything I had ever known. My sanctuary.

On that infamous night, he would come against me with all the forces of hell itself in the form of Parker Wayde and Baron Tomson. I was powerless to their blindside attack, catching me off-guard as they chained Griffin Hawkins to the turnbuckles like a dog, forcing him to watch as I was beaten multiple times with a Catonine whip, and even though he wouldn't show his face in that moment, I could just hear the imagined screams of Corey Casey as he shouted his orders to continue the assault. In front of the millions watching around the world, I was crucified by the Empire; led to the slaughter as my back was plowed from top to bottom, and as the blood poured out, I truly felt like it could be the end.

And then they beat me some more.

But perseverance prevailed, for I would not allow the standing memory of Alexander Remington be that of utter chaos and destruction; the last thought being that Alexander Remington was beaten and retired by the hands of another man, or in this case, a gang of thugs with an inferiority complex. Corey Casey hadn't any idea that I would be returning a few weeks later, but I had no other choice. I walked through the curtain and onto the stage, and I had one purpose in mind.

The man who holds the championship belt around his waist holds all the power in a company such as the Insurgency, and because of this, the Empire truly did hold a firm grasp on the life of IWF. I knew this. And furthermore, I knew that if I didn't show up that night, another by the name of Stygian would have taken claim to his rematch, and thus I would have lost my opportunity for revenge. Be that as it may, I suppose luck possibly could have been in my favor. I would have never wished what happened to Lilith and Lilah upon anyone, but it was the opening that I could use to convince my long-time rival to give up his rematch in lieu of getting his form of revenge against a very obese man.

Parker Wayde was easy. Question his manhood and his backbone, and he would cave to my request for a title shot, and despite the pleas of Corey Casey, Parker Wayde gave in and accepted my challenge. One look at the face of Corey Casey in that moment would tell all about his confidence in his champion at the time. He knew that Parker Wayde was walking into an impossible situation; he understood exactly who Alexander Remington was and the lengths he would go to have his revenge. But he could do nothing about it, for it was the champion that chose whom he would defend his championship against at New Year's Evil, and that was the opening I needed.

New Year's Evil was almost too simple, however. It was as though Parker Wayde was withdrawn from the match; I could not understand the reasons why. Perhaps Corey Casey had put too much pressure upon his head, but that was not Parker Wayde in the ring that night. I knew that I was better than Wayde in every single facet of competition, but not to that extent. Nevertheless, I could not allow myself to be sidetracked by the shell of the champion which stood before me, and having a little fun at the expense of the Empire, I fulfilled my promise upon arrival to the Insurgency.

I was its champion. I am its king.

And for now, the power had finally shifted to those who believe in hope in a darkened society. To those who would not give in to the rule of a tyrant. And I would be its champion for as long as I could remain. I would not believe in the supposed curse of the Insurgency champion. But I am no fool. I do not believe this war to be over. And yet again, Corey Casey will send the forces of hell against me, and the cycle will continue forever and ever until one of us has one foot already in the grave.

Armageddon is coming to the Insurgency, and I have no other choice than to be its savior. ~

________________________________

January 3, 2013
Los Angeles, California
Off-Camera

The dawning of a new year brought quite the change to my life, as it had been quite a long time since I had felt the comforts of a World Championship around my waist. Yet, my mind was elsewhere. There were no parties or mass celebrations following my victory at New Year's Evil; it was business as usual as I walked away from the arena and drove to the place I was staying. Sure, happiness did not elude me on that night, but given the events which had taken place in my life over the past few weeks, I hadn't the time or the energy to really appreciate the changes in my professional life.

I remained in Los Angeles for the entirety of my time following New Year's Evil. I didn't celebrate the new year with friends, despite Griffin Hawkins' incessant need to call me every five seconds about the ball dropping in New York as though it were something new that had never happened before in the history of these United States. I kept wholly to myself, giving myself time for rest and relaxation whilst also not trying to think about the revelations given to me by my adoptive father and the visitation of the three men in suits just a couple of weeks prior. I buried my head within the pages of a book, I quenched my thirst with any type of alcoholic beverage available, and then I would fall fast asleep. But every night, the moment before I would fall asleep and the moment before I would awaken, I would hear a small soft voice - a whisper.

"Alexander..."

It would startle me as I would awaken, sitting upright in the bed, fully expecting someone to be standing over me, but alas, such an image would never be seen. I almost welcomed the visitation as the voice continued to whisper in my ear, but never would I ascertain the source. Perhaps it was but a beginning or an end of a dream that continued to replay through my mind, and this would be my explanation, but every night for two weeks, I would hear my name repeated in that same soft voice - a peculiar occurrence that I wished would cease to exist.

Not for this reason, however, did I pay a visit to my long-time psychologist in Los Angeles, Katarina Schmidt. I had made it a custom to pay her a visit every couple of months or so ever since I left Forces, if nothing more than to have someone to talk to through my issues and problems. She charged a pretty penny, but she was worth every dime. Sometimes, we would just talk about life, and sometimes just that would allow me an escape from everything that had surrounded me. I had been through the deaths of two women that I had loved. I had seen things that no man should ever see; heard things that none should hear, and Katarina was understanding and helpful through it all.

I arrived at half past two, going against my usual custom of wearing a suit; simply arriving in a button down white long-sleeved shirt with a pair of jeans, neatly shaven but still a small amount of stubble on my face as I was not too concerned with my appearance. I laid down on a small sofa in the center of the room as she sat comfortably in her brown leather-cushioned seat; pen and pad in her hand as she just let me speak for a while - always a new issue and always an unusual situation.

Today, perhaps, would be the strangest.

"I hear this voice in the darkness that whispers to me," I began, glancing over at Katarina, hoping that she wouldn't deem me crazy. She was the consummate professional, however, her face not changing one iota. "I don't have an explanation for it, other than perhaps it being the remnants of a dream that just seems so real." I paused as my eyebrows furrowed, reliving each whisper in my mind. "It whispers to me my name, and then fades into nothingness; I open my eyes and there is no one there. It seems so real, yet I know there is nothing there."

I looked over at her for some kind of immediate response, but she seemed to be thinking about some things, writing down her thoughts on her notepad. I shook my head, laughing a bit to myself.

"I'm not crazy," I continued, shaking my head once more to the contrary. "Well aware of my mental prowess in fact. It just started a few weeks ago - the whispers. And in my dreams, I see a face. And I know that I've seen this individual before, but everything seems so blurred. I recognize the form, but the one to which it belongs remains a mystery to me."

"This...this voice," she said, her face simply looking down at the pad in her lap, overlooking the glasses on the tip of her nose to do so. "You say that it only comes to you in the middle of the night, before you awaken or fall asleep. Perhaps you just aren't getting enough sleep. Maybe stress-induced? I understand with your position with your current employment, stress is part of the job, but perhaps this is something that is more extraordinary than normal?"

"I think I can handle myself and my job Katarina," I coldly responded, almost taking offense to her question. But I conceded after a moment of thought, knowing that she possibly could be right. "But maybe you're right. I've undertaken quite the burden of late in my job. It has been a long time since I've been asked to be the top guy; it's been a while since I've had the weight of an entire company on my back. When I joined the Insurgency, I saw a roster full of great talent, and I knew that though the competition would be more fierce than I had experienced over the last few years, the burden should have been less due to not having the same responsibilities for the future of an entire company upon me. It wasn't like UECW. I wasn't alone."

I sighed though as I realized that perhaps this wasn't the case. I did feel that burden even to this day. I knew that if I ever took one moment to lose my focus; if I ever slacked in my responsibilities, than the Insurgency would suffer for it.

"Or so I thought. In my company, you either side with the wolves or you are devoured by them. And I've chosen to hunt those wolves. But it comes with a price. As champion, the rest of the roster looks to me to lead the way. They expect me to help them all ascend that mountain, and yet, if I allow them to come along with me, than I am only helping those beneath me to improve and become a threat in the future. It's like providing guns and ammunition to the enemy - it can only come back to bite me in the ass at some point."

"Alexander..."

"What?" I glared over at Katarina, thinking that she had said something, but she didn't seem to have anything to say to me at the moment. I shook my head, not wanting to admit to hearing yet another whisper in my mind; the first time of yet that I had heard this voice in broad daylight when wide awake. I was worried, but yet I hadn't an explanation, chalking it up simply to stress. Oftentimes, our sessions would involve me doing a lot of talking, her doing a lot of listening, and then she'd give her thoughts when I finally decided to shut up. Kinda sounds like my relationship with a certain female...heh.

"What about Jaci," she stated as though she could read her mind, but after countless sessions, she knew more about me oftentimes than I knew about myself. "Do you still think about her like you used to? As often as you used to?"

"I think it's impossible to wipe her completely from my mind doc," I said as she simply gave me an understanding nod. "However, I do believe that things are getting better on that front. I've removed a lot of the pictures and knick-nacks from my home like you suggested I do...that was a chore." It took me quite some time to gain enough strength to do so, for I felt like with each item I would throw away, I was losing a piece of that past that was so difficult to let go of. "And I no longer just stare at my phone hoping she gives me a call. And you're right, it's like a peace has come into my life that I haven't had since that day she left me, but yet I do know that if I were ever to see her again, I still would feel ripped to shreds. I guess I'm fortunate that I'll never have to see her again. I'll never have to relive that pain any longer."

We had obviously spoken at length about this entire situation in the past; something that took multiple sessions and a long period of time for me to finally feel like I could, at the very least, somewhat move on with my life. I had never had someone get to me as much as she had, so losing her was very difficult. But I would be a weakened man were I to continue along the same path of misery and woe that I was walking down, so it was time for me to let go, even if, as I said, I would be crushed were my eyes ever to gaze upon her beautiful face once more.

"Alexander...Return to the Origin."

The voice shook me to an upright seated position, looking around the room with a panicked look on my face, noticeable to Katarina.

"What is it Alex..."

"N...nothing. It's nothing. Just a thought that crossed my mind is all."

Suddenly an image filled my mind; blurred as always before in my dreams, but now, I was not sleeping. I couldn't see his face but rather his figure as before, but soon I saw blood streaming down his face. He cried out in agony as though he were pleading for my help. I shook my head, trying to force the image to depart, to which it slowly faded.

"Alex, I think you're still dealing with a lot of stress - a degree to which you are not capable of handling. I understand that your entire life, you have dealt with many things, but I think you have allowed yourself too many things on your plate at a time. Your businesses, your career, feeling the stress as though you were carrying the Insurgency on your back - I would take a guess that it really isn't that case and you just perceive it to be that way. From all I've heard about that place, there are many capable of taking on some of those responsibilities, but you've always been one to want to do everything yourself..."

"It's the only way the job gets done correctly..."

"Even so," she bowed her head before looking back up at me. "Even if that were the case, which I presume it is likely not, you cannot go through life acting as though you are alone in this world. There are always those who are willing to lend a hand; to relieve you of your burden as you call it. Griffin Hawkins for example..."

"Griffin Hawkins? Griffin Hawkins? Griffin Hawkins, I'm sure, means well, but I realized something when I won IWF's World Championship. He can take my title away from me any time he so chooses. See, he has this briefcase which entitles him to cash in and fight me for the title anytime he wants, including after a match where I'm beat up and broken and unable to compete any longer. And I wouldn't put it past him to use it on me in that moment. Sure, he promises that he won't, but I don't know. I want to trust Griffin Hawkins, but I know he's the type of guy that would sell Tiffani Michaels to the devil in order to see his dream become reality."

"It's as I've always said Alex, you need to learn to trust people more. You've always held this animosity toward others, including your friends, when all they've been trying to do is help. I want you to really try to work on this - trust. Even if you don't think you can, do it anyway. I know that bad things have happened to you in your life, and I'm aware that you've tried to trust others only for them to turn their back on you, but it's not healthy to keep to yourself like this and believe that everyone is out to get you."

"Maybe you're right Katarina," I say, knowing quite well that this was a struggle that I had been dealing with for a long time. My inner circle was small indeed, and even those within I could not fully grasp the importance of trust. Even with Hawkins, I truly felt as though he was indeed capable of cashing the briefcase on me unaware, leaving me powerless to defend that which I had earned. "I just never feel as though I can be too careful. But I will try. I will try to keep what you've said in mind. I will try to not feel as though the burden is completely on my shoulders, and I will try to give others an opportunity to carry that load. But if they fail; if they are unable to live up to my expectations, I don't see how I have any other choice Katarina. It's just who I am. I will try, but I can promise nothing."

I stood to my feet, knowing that our hour was soon to be concluded. I walked over to her as she stood as well, shaking her hand.

"Just try Alex; small steps remember," she said, her usual mantra. "As Rome was not built in a single day, nor will you be who you want to be immediately. But I do believe your issues are caused by these stressors, and if we can eliminate them somewhat or even altogether, I believe this will alleviate your concerns and at least some of your issues."

I nodded my head as I shook her hand once more, turning and walking out of her office and down the small staircase, leading into a long hallway filled with various other offices; hearing the phones ring constantly and the copiers copying, and a small subtle whisper in my head.

"Alexander..." the voice whispered, the same voice that I had heard so often over the past few weeks. But it was strange, as now it was appearing during the day, and now I could no longer blame this occurrence on lack of sleep. I began to hope to whatever god there may or may not be out there that this was nothing but explained by Katarina's analysis - stress.

"What the fuck do you want," I muttered to myself as a couple of men heading to lunch looked at me with a strange look on their faces, hurrying past me. "Great, now I'm talking to myself."

"ALEXANDER!!!!" the voice turned from a whisper to a shout as I backed myself against the nearest wall; my head pounding with the sound of the stress-induced madness. "ALEXANDER!!! ALEXANDER!!!! ALEXANDER!!! Return to the Origin Alexander! Return! Return! Return ALEXANDER!!!"

I ran down the hallway, the voice continuing to repeat this same madness; a deafening cry in my head now causing a splitting headache to form, but I felt more fear for my situation than worry about the pain in my head. I turned and ran into the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind me and locking the door as I stood before the sink, turning on the water to cool as I cupped an ample amount in my hands, pouring it over my face.

"Get out of my head," I screamed at the voice as it continued to yell my name. "Get the fuck out! Who are you?! What are you?! GET OUT!!!"

I ran the water over my face again, slowly peering into the mirror as I saw him standing behind me. The face that once was blurred was now picture-perfect clear. The man who stood behind me was none other than Ashe Corvin. I looked at the reflection in the mirror as a sinister grin formed over his face, shaking my head as I couldn't believe what I was seeing, nor comprehending what it all was about.

"What the fuck..."

Rivers of blood began to flow from his skull as he emitted a cry of torment; a spine-tingling cry that would strike horror in the heart of any man, including myself. I turned around quickly, but suddenly he was gone; vanished into thin air. I rubbed my eyes, and suddenly the lights began to flash on and off over and over again. I ran to the door, but by some force unknown, I could not unlock the door and I could not swing it open. I was stuck in this room of torment. I heard footsteps coming from all around me, but never a figure that belonged to them. In fear, I ran into the bathroom stall, closing and locking the door behind me, closing my eyes as I hoped that it would all go away.

Suddenly, the door of the stall began to shake as I backed into the corner, fear overcoming me as I could not comprehend what was happening to me. Could stress really have led to all of this? Could that really be all there was to my predicament? Suddenly a voice appeared to me in the chaos, but it was the voice of another; a bright white line illuminating the room to where I could see nothing else.

"My one and only son; I believe it is time we were reacquainted. Return to the Origin..."

Suddenly the lights turned back to normal and the chaos seemed to cease. As I timidly walked out of the bathroom stall, it was as though nothing had ever happened in this place. I looked myself in the mirror once more, running water over my face again, staring back into my eyes. I did not like the image of the man that I saw before me. I had turned pale white, my eyes bloodshot,

"What is happening to me..."

_____________________

January 5, 2013
Cleveland, Ohio
On-Camera (except for obvious voices/talking to said voices)

I had to get away. I had to return to my sanctuary. I had to return home. Unfortunately, that home would be found in the form of one of the more God-forsaken cities our country possesses - the city of Cleveland, Ohio. After the incident a couple of days prior, I caught a plane directly to Cleveland, and through the shadow of darkness, I allowed myself to temporarily escape the watchful eyes of the usual media mob that would usually crowd me when I would get off a plane. There were still a handful of photographers who happened to catch wind of my arrival, but not as many as I am used to, and for that, I was thankful.

I hid myself within the confines of the hotel I was staying at for the weekend, and ever since that incident, I didn't hear a peep out of the voice that had appeared to me so often over the last couple of weeks. Perhaps it was all over, I thought. Perhaps what happened was, as Katarina suggested, was due to my levels of stress and now that I was trying to work on the things that were my burden, they would diminish forever. So feeling at least a bit relieved, I made my way to a local bar a couple of blocks away - a quaint little place without a ton of traffic, still wanting to avoid the headache of the masses surrounding me as they forgot that I was human after all, despite my lavish lifestyle and overwhelming success.

I sat myself on a stool behind the bar, ordering a couple of beers as I had a look around, some lame concoction of a country mix being played in the background, making me want to vomit. Seriously, who the fuck listens to country music? At any rate, the barkeep handed me the beers as I kept to myself. Thankfully I didn't catch the glare of too many of the patrons, purposely not donning myself in my usual business - purely wearing a t-shirt and a ragged pair of jeans (Yes, I do in fact own such clothing; I just choose to wear suits because let's be perfectly honest here - everything's cooler in a suit.)

"They're watching you..."

"Who's watching me," I said aloud, stopping myself as I realized I was just talking to myself again. The barkeep looked at me with furrowed eyebrows as he too wondered who exactly I was speaking to. I huddled my head downward to where no one could hear me, speaking with a muffled voice. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you can't be talking to me while I'm in public."

Was this seriously happening? Was I really talking to voices in my head? What in the hell is wrong with me?

"The cameras, the cameras; they are watching you..."

"I don't care if the cameras are watching me; I'm trying to get rid of you," I said with a groan, curiously looking up as a couple of women who were sitting at the bar gave me a puzzled look. Guess I'm not getting laid tonight...

"Turn around! Turn around! Like vultures they are!"

"ENOUGH," I shouted to the top of my lungs at the voice in my head, standing up and turning around as I glared at those who were filming me, looking bewildered at my reaction, hoping to catch something else outrageous on my end. I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to compose myself, and for the hope of not looking completely like a madman, I tried to turn my outburst into a cleverly begun speech.

Why not?

"I've had enough of the Empire pretending like they run the Insurgency, so I did exactly what I said I would do - I humbled them. I took away the one piece of hardware that gave them legitimacy, and perhaps the most fulfilling part of it all was the fact that Corey Casey and his little lapdog in Axle Vengeance were standing right there to watch it all happen."

There it was; back in my element. I was away from the sport for two weeks, and I was beginning to actually miss it. I wanted to let my thoughts be known; I wanted to take the last existing piece of dignity that the Empire had left after New Year's Evil, and in one address, I wanted to take that from them as well. I felt on top of the world - I was on top of the world. But as I paid for my drinks and walked out of the bar onto the sidewalks of Cleveland, I continued to speak as the cameras continued to eagerly follow my every step, wanting to record the first verbalized thoughts of the new Insurgency champion.

"You know what entertains me? All I've heard since winning this championship is the infamous Insurgency championship curse - that it passes through more hands than Chelle Fury on singles night at the local Motel 6." I flashed a grin, knowing that the aforementioned tramp wouldn't be watching, but I didn't give a damn. "It hasn't been about how I dominated Parker Wayde - I did that. It wasn't about how I embarrassed the Empire - yep, I did that too. The talk wasn't even about how Alexander Remington in one night proved that he's the greatest fucking champion that the Insurgency has ever seen. Nope, it was all about this curse. The question wasn't if, but when. Or rather, to whom?"

Despite the chill in the air, quite the gathering was huddled up behind me, the masses which recognized my face wanting to hear what it was that I had to say. Of yet, I had not issued a remark about my victory, nor about my plans going forward. What better place than...ugh...Cleveland?

"Newsflash people, I'm not losing this championship any time soon. You can say what you want about history repeating itself, but I am no ordinary man nor am I an ordinary champion. When I ascended that mountain and became your champion, I proved without a doubt that I am the greatest champion to ever step foot in an IWF ring. You want to ask how soon or who will take this championship from around my waist? I ask you who in the hell has the balls to try? Parker Wayde? Parker Wayde is more likely to win the fucking Powerball than to step into the ring with me again and beat me. Parker Wayde was an embarrassment not only to the Empire but to himself at New Year's Evil. Parker Wayde showed that he didn't even belong in the same ring as yours truly. Axle Vengeance? I'd love to see him try. Axle Vengeance may have come in with all the bravado that a former legend deserves, but Axle Vengeance wasn't better than me years ago, and he certainly isn't better than me now. And he can have the backing of the Empire. He can have the forces of ten million behind him. Hell, he can bring in Damien Drake, Ace Static, the Ku Klux Klan, Bozo the Clown and the Harlem fucking Globetrotters for all I care. The fact of the matter is, the moment that Alexander Remington became your champion, the curse was broken. Everything you thought you knew about the Insurgency has changed."

"2013 begins with Alexander Remington as the Insurgency champion, and 2013 will end in the exact same way. I'm going to make the Insurgency championship something that people can be proud of again. I'm going to make it something that people aspire to attain but something that is almost impossible to achieve because of the man that is at the top. Bring your Stygians and bring your Vengeances; hell, bring back Brandon McDonald if you want, and I'll beat his ass too. Put me in a Double Cage of Horror against Corey Casey, and not only will I snap his streak but his back too. Do you get what I'm telling you? Do you understand the point I'm trying to make? That championship that I put around my waist a week ago at New Year's Evil...it's going nowhere but around my waist for a long long time."

Confidence. Confidence was something that I clearly did not lack, but I knew that on the horizon, any words which I stated would have to be backed up. I truly believed I was the best champion the IWF had ever or would ever feast their eyes on. It wasn't arrogance, for I looked upon the roster, and I did not see a single man or woman that I considered in my league. I was on the top of my game, and no matter who could come against me - whether current or returning star - I knew that if I handled my business, my promises and my claims would come true.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Corey, as the referee raised my hand in victory and handed me my prized possession. Fear. Disappointment. Bewilderment. You never comprehended a scenario in which Alexander Remington would ascend from the ashes and become the figurehead - the face - of IWF. Astonishing really, considering the lack of faith I knew you had in your former Insurgency champion. How does it feel, Corey, knowing that I achieved everything that I set out to achieve without your backing or your approval? How does it feel to realize that all along, I didn't need you for anything? I watch as Axle Vengeance, Eric Steel, and Jack Savage cater to your every whim, and I realize how foolish and pathetic I must have looked as I paraded around waving the Empire banner, pretending that the Empire was the true path of success. And even now, just days removed from what should be a monumental victory for the Empire - Axle Vengeance's win against Brandon McDonald - all you will ever say is "Look at what the Empire accomplished." You're pathetic Corey. You formed your merry band of men so that you could live vicariously through each and every one of them. You knew that I would be the cornerstone upon which this company was founded, and you went as far as to waltz into UECW to try to get me on your side even then, knowing that the day would come where UECW would close its doors and crumble, and you were hell-bent on acquiring the greatest and most powerful ally a man could ever wish for. You watched Stygian week by week as he dominated the roster, and you plotted and you planned and you schemed trying to think of the one man that you could use to get revenge on your most hated adversary, and that's when you gave me a call. You promised me wealth and fame beyond compare. You told me that the IWF would succumb to my will and that every knee would bow to my success. And you were right. I have obtained great wealth and fame beyond compare. The IWF does look up to me as I sit upon my throne. But you had nothing to do with any of it."

"I left the Empire, not purely because of your cowardly attack on Griffin Hawkins. No, that was the lit match that started the fire, but long before that, I realized that as long as I remained in the Empire, the glory given to me would never be my own. I would have to share it with the likes of you and Jack Savage, and that sickened me. Jack Savage, a man who is about as useless as nipples on a nun. The only good thing about Jack Savage is his lawyer, Howard Harvard, and the only good thing about Howard Harvard is that he has the most ridiculous, yet awesome, name for a lawyer. And you were going to ask me to share my success with...him? With you? You asked me to come in and you placed a bounty on Stygian's head, and you expected me to follow through with my plan, and the world would be mine to control, but Corey, you were playing a very dangerous game. I saw right through what you were trying to do with me. You thought that you would take a page out of my playbook, and for a moment, I'm sure you believed that I was your puppet and you were my puppet master, but the Master Manipulator is not so easily fooled. I wouldn't carry out your vengeance on your behalf. If I were to want to remove Stygian from this company and from this industry as a whole, I would do it, but I would receive the glory. I would receive all the praise. I would be the one, not you, getting everything I've ever desired from such an accomplishment. The things I do are not for the Empire. My own personal glory and legacy is what I live and die for, and I'll be damned if a spineless bastard like you tries to take that away from me."

In the background, several began to shout out various remarks of support, though really, they all just wanted to be seen or heard on TV. I paid them no mind, not disrespecting my fans by any means, but if I were to legitimately give credence or attention to every remark shouted in my direction, whether for them or against, that would cause more chaos or anarchy than simply ignoring them. However, I was appreciative toward those who lent me their support, even if I could not return the favor every single time.

I was only a few blocks away from the Quicken Loans arena, pausing for a moment in what I was saying, gathering my thoughts as I led the stampede toward the arena itself, finally standing in front of it as the crowd gathered in. Still, my focus was on the cameras pointed in my direction; the crowd at least being respectful enough not to walk in front of them as I was speaking. I stood upon a concrete bench, raising my hands in the air to silence the crowd.

"My people, this is not a time to fear nor to worry about the retaliation that will certainly come my way from the Empire. I'm ready for it. I'm ready for anything they can bring against me. Because I'm better than each and every member that bends over and takes it from Corey Casey on a daily basis. Axle Vengeance, I once respected you - not that you care about my respect. I may not like you, but you had my respect. Back when you were, as you say, the motherfucking greatest. Back in UECW, I could have demanded a match for my own personal redemption against any other man, but I chose you for a reason. You were the best. If I was to become anything in my career, it would begin with you. And in that day, we tore the fucking roof off the building, scratching and clawing as each of us needed that win just as badly as the other. And perhaps on that night I bettered you, but I'm no fool; it could have gone in any direction for either man, because we were that damn good. And what did I do at the end of the night? Did I gloat and stand over you and spit in your face and claim that you were nothing? No, I helped you to your feet, I shook your hand, and I held your arm in the air because on that night, we both were legends."

"What happened to you since then Axle? The Axle Vengeance I once knew would never become a corporate lackey. The Axle Vengeance I once knew was anti-establishment; he'd rather complete chaos and anarchy over a suit calling the shots any day of the week. Hired gun? Axle Vengeance wouldn't fight for another man's agenda simply for another man's coin. How far have you fallen since Hollywood's Fucking Finest ruled the wrestling industry with an iron fist? I once respected you, but now I'm ashamed of what you've become. Perhaps you fail because of your need for child support; perhaps you fail because you know that you will inevitably give in to your every addiction and need Corey Casey Monopoly bucks in order to afford your latest stint in wrestling-sponsored rehabilitation, but no rehab will ever cure you of the gutless coward that you have become. Truth is Axle, I wish you were that man from my past. I wish you were greater than that man, because the day would come where we'd tear the roof of the building yet again, and we would feel the electricity flowing through our veins like we did that night. Thousands of fans stood on their feet and chanted our names, forgetting whether they loved us or hated us prior to that match because they appreciated the greatness that was shown in that ring. We did something that never has been done before and I'd love to recreate and improve on that moment time and time again, but Alex Dillinger, you will never be that man again while working for Corey Casey. He will take your pride and flush it down the toilet. He will take your every success and claim it as his own victory. And you might make a few extra dollars on the side, but Alex Dillinger will only be Axle Vengeance by name alone."

"Maybe you'll never listen to my advice, but Alex, do yourself a favor and remove yourself from Corey Casey's hip and be the Axle Vengeance that we would measure ourselves by. Be the Axle Vengeance that made Hollywood's Fucking Finest what it actually was. Because it wasn't Damien Drake and it wasn't Ace Static - it was you that gave it credibility all along. But as long as you are Corey Casey's hired hand, you'll only be yet another guy chasing a quick buck. And that guy will never be respected."

I climbed down from the bench, sitting upon it as I leaned over, looking directly into the lens of the camera before me, ignoring the ones on either side of me as those were for local news broadcasts and I wanted my message to be far-reaching to the ends of the world. I smiled as I thought about my match this week, knowing it was yet another battle with the Empire.

"But alas, the Empire will continue to run like a semi-broken half-oiled machine, and at its helm, Corey Casey will bark out orders, hoping one of the many ideas he comes with actually works. He'll send the masses after me, and this week, he's chosen to send the newest member to the fold to the slaughter. Eric Steel, I think it's cute that you actually believe in Corey Casey's message. Really, I do. I mean, I bought into his propaganda and his lies too once. And see, there was a time where your name actually was noticed in the back. You had come off of two victories against Ashe Corvin - a feat that quite honestly hasn't been done by many a man. But we both know that Ashe Corvin is not the man he once was, and so there's a reason why I have never mentioned him in the same breath as Axle Vengeance and Stygian - he simply doesn't belong to that company any longer. And so you were well on your way toward success in the Insurgency...and then you failed."

"You failed to capture glory at the most important time; you had an opportunity to claim your shot at the Uprising title. You claimed that you would make Ashe Corvin your personal bitch, and when the spotlight shined brightest, you failed to deliver. You showed your true colors in that night, and you proved that when your back is against the wall and that when your absolute best is required in order to achieve your dreams, you will always fall short of your potential. And now Corey Casey wants to send a rookie like you to try to knock me down a peg or two. Let's take account of the men he's sent against me to get his revenge. Baron Tomson? Have you heard a peep from him since? Has he accomplished a thing on his own since I walked out of the Empire? Sure, he once made a name from my handiwork. He once shouted from the rooftops that he was the man that set Alexander Raven ablaze, and he was correct, but what he failed to mention is how I prepared Alexander Raven for that fire. I made Baron Tomson a household name, but Alexander Remington giveth, and Alexander Remington taketh away. He crossed me by his assault on Griffin Hawkins, and since that moment, Baron Tomson is an afterthought."

"Parker Wayde? Parker Wayde was the next man that Corey Casey handpicked. Parker Wayde was a man that I never wanted in the Empire, but Corey Casey insisted. So he carried my bags and he was the ultimate yes-man, and he gave everything he had to the will of Corey Casey. But watch New Year's Evil and understand that Corey Casey isn't exactly the best judge of talent. Sure, he wanted to groom me as the next coming of Corey Casey, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. Parker Wayde couldn't even compete with me in that ring at New Year's Evil, and now he too is nowhere to be found; his voice falls on deaf ears for he is now irrelevant. This is what I do to the careers of those who come against me Steel. This is who I am. I'm the destroyer of careers and the ruiner of livelihoods, and I take pride in that fact. When a man is chosen to fight me, he'll talk with the highest bravado the week prior, claiming to be the man that is going to humble me and bring me back down to earth, and each and every time they fail. I am a new man. I am not the man that lost to Ryan Apollos in my early days in the Insurgency. I am not the man that dropped the ball time and time again. I am and have become Alexander Remington - the man and the wrestler that I was always supposed to be, and at BattleGrounds, you are going to learn your first lesson at humility."

I scoffed as I spoke of Eric Steel. Truthfully, before he joined the Empire, I had no clue who he was. I had heard mention of his name, but I didn't know him from Joe the popcorn vendor in the seventeenth row. I cracked a smile as I glared at the camera, speaking directly to it as though I were talking to Eric Steel himself.

"I'm sorry for you that you believed that your path of redemption was joining Corey Casey and bending to his will; that by somehow waving the banner of the Empire that you would make up for your devastating loss to Ashe Corvin at the most crucial of moments. But if you think your path of redemption begins with Alexander Remington, think again. You and I, we had the proverbial two paths which crossed in a wood, and I did choose the one less traveled by, for many a man in my position would have never willingly chosen to fight the Empire on his own, but I don't care about the numbers against me or the ferocity at which they come against me. I care about doing what's right for me - for my legacy. I care about my own glory which would have never been realized as long as I stood under the shadow of Corey Casey. You, you chose the other path; the one where bending over and taking it from the boss is not only a request - it's a demand. And if you think for one moment that Corey Casey is your friend; if you think for one second that Corey Casey won't turn his back on you the moment he's used you for the little bit that you're worth, you are in for a very rude awakening. I've seen what that viper will do to a man he called his friend, and you are nothing more to him than a pawn. But don't take it from me, see for yourself."

"Hypocrisy should be the term of the day for you Steel," I scoffed, thinking of several things that stood out from before. "Prior to New Year's Evil, the proverbial stick up your ass was that Ashe Corvin called all of your early success 'luck.' How convenient that the moment you face me, and the moment where your face was shoved in the dirt that you resort to the same cheap tactics. This week, I'm not going to beat you because you're part of the Empire. I'm not going to beat you because you're the next pawn that Corey Casey throws my way to distract me. I'm not going to even beat you to make you respect me, because quite frankly, I don't give a flying fuck what a Corporate peon like you thinks of me. No, I'm going to beat you because all fucking week, all everybody's been talking about is how beating Parker Wayde doesn't make me a legitimate champion. How his not showing up to New Year's Evil makes me a lesser man. I'm going to beat the living fuck out of you because simply put - I'm better than you, and I'm better than anyone Corey Casey or any other company can throw my direction. This is an open invitation to anyone in IWF or abroad - if you want a shot at the legend of Alexander Remington, I refuse no man or woman's challenge. I'll put my title on the line; we'll put our careers on the line, I don't give a fuck. Luck? Luck would be the word to describe what would happen if I allow you to walk out of BattleGrounds in one piece, Eric Steel. Mercy is what you'll be on your hands and your knees praying for when I beat you within a fucking inch of your life. You question my legitimacy as a champion? I'm going to use you as my example."

"You've already begun to dig your grave, Eric Steel. Don't come crying to me for help in your darkest hour."

I cracked a smile as I turned my back to the camera, beginning to walk toward the Quicken Loans arena as I heard the fans chanting my name as I walked away, the cheers and the chants growing softer and softer as I stood further and further away. After a while, the throng of fans would disperse and I would walk into the arena after getting clearance from one of the security personnel, letting me in as I made my way to my own personal locker room. I smiled as I looked at the sign which simply stated "Alexander Remington, IWF World Champion" - a title I had longed for well before my arrival to the Insurgency even. For nearly a year before I joined, I kept my eye upon this place, mostly because of Stygian, and I knew that if UECW ever folded, I would make this place my home. And in that day, I knew that I would stop at nothing to place that championship upon my waist.

I had given it my all; I had endured the lies and the schemes of Corey Casey and the Empire, and I proved that I could do this all on my own without their backing. And now that I was champion, I would still never settle or rest on my laurels. I still had much to accomplish on the horizon. I still foresaw an impending war with Axle Vengeance. Despite our friendship, I could imagine the inevitable battle between Griffin Hawkins and I - if I were to accomplish my goal of remaining champion throughout 2013, we would have to cross paths at some point. He and I had only one match to our record against each other, and that's when I would go down with a shoulder injury. And of course, there remained the elephant in the room. There remained the one name that I came to IWF for. He had not returned to the Insurgency, but I was determined to bring him back. I was determined to rebuild the Black Dragon to his former self, for what fun was there in a rivalry if Superman had lost his cape? I had come to the Insurgency for that very reason - championships were nice, and I felt on top of the world, and no matter how much I might have backed away from my animosity towards that man; as much respect may have been earned by that man since the time I arrived in IWF, he still remained my endgame.

I took one last glance at the sign beside my door, cracking a smile as I allowed myself inside my locker room. In just two days, my war would resume with the Empire. And I knew not what Corey Casey had up his sleeve, but even then, I had my own contingencies.

Except one base I didn't have covered.

What if I were ambushed? What if I were knocked out cold? What if Griffin Hawkins chose that opportunity to go against his word and cash in his briefcase on me unaware? He told me that I could trust him, but could I? I knew Katarina suggested I try, and I would, but still my mind could not block out the idea that my own friend - a man that I've always considered closer than a brother even - could stab me in the back like everyone else in my life that I've allowed to be close to me and steal what I worked so hard to obtain. What if BattleGrounds was that night?

Damn.