Stygian [vs.] Philip Joseph

Siege Perilous. If Phillip Joseph wins, he gets an IWF title match at Ascension. Hell in a Cell.

Mr. Gabriel. Mr. Gabriel? MISTER GABRIEL!

Yeah, what?

Need I remind you that your psychological evaluation was extremely tenuous, and your return to active competition is contingent upon our continued progress in therapy sessions?

You seem to relish in reminding me of that, Dr. Wyatt.

Now, now, Mr. Gabriel, I’m not a sadist. I am genuinely trying to help you. I can assure you.

I guess you don’t get a personal recommendation from Alexander Remington if you’re some quack.

No, Mr. Remington’s trust is not earned easily or lightly.

Why did Remington need a shrink, anyway?

Mr. Gabriel, I’m not at liberty to say. You know that. You’re deflecting. Let’s focus on you.

Alright…

Now, there are any number of topics we haven’t even broached. Why don’t we talk about the night of the attack?

Nope.

You’re going to have to eventually.

Eventually isn’t tonight.

Very well, why don’t we talk about your wife moving out and filing a motion for separation.

Before we get to that, we really have to go over the attack. It’s kind of a sequential thing.

So it appears you’ve set up a catch-22. We can’t deal with one issue without dealing with the other. And you refuse to deal with the other.

Appears that way.

Mr. Gabriel, if you insist on wasting my time, I will have no choice but to revoke your active status.

I’m not trying to jerk you off here, Dr. Wyatt. I genuinely don’t want to talk about that shit right now.

Yes well…alright, why don’t we try a different approach?

Do I have to hit a pillow?

No. I get the feeling you’re reticent to trust me, Jason.

Really? What makes you say that?

You refuse to open up to me, even knowing that your livelihood could depend upon it. You refuse to call me by my given name, even though I have given you permission to so do. You’re not going to make any progress until you actually start embracing therapy.

I don’t want progress. I’m fine.

IWF doesn’t think so, or they wouldn’t be paying my considerable fees to send you out to me for your sessions. Jason, why don’t we start with a story that affects us both equally.

If you can think of one, sure.

You and Alexander Remington have a long-established rivalry spanning several years and several companies.

Yeah…

So why, when you’re remanded to the care of a therapist would you take his recommendation? Of all the people in the world to help you pick out something so intimate and life-altering as a psychotherapist, why let your greatest professional rival do it?

It’s not like I didn’t check you out myself before I committed to it.

But it is still an incredibly personal decision. And why let someone you consider to be the most manipulative and destructive person in your life help you make it?

Oddly enough? Because he’s the only person who has acted in my best interests this whole time.

I see. So how did he come to recommend my services?

Well now, that is a long story. It starts in Chuck Matthews’ office, the day his sister talked me into coming back.

There’s plenty of time left on our session, Mr. Gabriel, take all of it if you wish.

Alright well, this is going back a ways, to the end of January, maybe the beginning of February, I don’t have my datebook handy…

I’ve been staring at the clock in the lower right hand corner of my computer for fifteen minutes now. It’s a quarter ‘til two. My two o’clock could he showing up at any time now. My brother, Chuck, warned me my appointment would probably arrive early. He’s apparently known for it. Ex-military; if you’re five minutes early, you’re ten minutes late in the military. Of course, the intercom buzzes on cue.

How can you be sure of Ms. Matthews-Casey’s thoughts?

I read people pretty well. I could, of course be wrong. But I definitely made her nervous. Sometimes the truth gets in the way of a good story.

Intercom: Ms. Matthews-Casey? Your two o’clock is here.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: A-alright. I’m still finishing up some stuff. Uh, I’ll let you know when to send him in.

Of course, just like Chuck said, he’s here early. I don’t want to see him. I really don’t. This was Chuck’s idea; he should be taking this meeting, dammit. Of course, Chuck said Stygian doesn’t trust him. Will he trust me? And do I really want to do what I’m proposing? Ohmigod I don’t want to take this meeting. I don’t want to see this guy face-to-face again. He nearly beat Corey to death with his bare hands once. Yes, Corey is a cheating bastard, but he’s still the father of my children. And a full 50% of the time he’s my little brother’s friend. Well, maybe not anymore. Shit. It’s ten ‘til now. I can’t keep him out there forever. Maybe I should send him home. He’s apparently content with retirement. It doesn’t seem to bother him like it bothered Corey. Do I really want to sic this guy on Corey after what he did to him in the Hellzone? Sure, Corey cheated, but does he deserve this maniac? sigh Of course, there’s always what Chuck said. I can let Stygian deal with Corey, or he will. I know what Chuck will do. I think I know what Stygian will do, too. But if someone’s going to go to jail over Corey fucking that silicone-enhanced ginger dye job, it might as well not be my little brother. I reach down and press the button for the intercom, hoping my voice doesn’t shake.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Janice, tell Mr. Gabriel I’ll see him now.

The office of Chuck Matthews looks like one would expect the office of Chuck Matthews to look. It takes up most of the top floor of the Matthews Enterprises building and it’s a veritable shrine to his own greatness, self-professed and otherwise. The carpet is soft and black, comfortable enough to go barefoot upon, as Chuck frequently must; given the hours he’s known to spend here when he’s not on the road with IWF. A huge glass case lines one wall, filled with wrestling title belts form all the promotions in which he has won them. Some of the belts have plaques behind them to enumerate the dates upon which he won them, if he indeed won them more than once. Just beside the wall are a bunch of pictures; every magazine cover Chuck’s ever been on. Not just wrestling publications, either. There’s a couple from the Chicago Sun Times. There’s the cover of Forbes listing him as one of the most powerful businessmen in America under 25 a few years back. The panoramic window view of the Chicago skyline is only broken by a single lone wooden panel directly behind his desk, where a huge blown-up portrait of Chuck holding up the NLWF World title hangs. Stygian steps into the Charles Francis Xavier Matthews…

Charles Francis Xavier Matthews?

Probably not his name.

…Charles Francis Xavier Matthews Memorial Ego Shrine and looks around. He looks different. His hair has grown. He’s rocking some serious stubble. It makes the biker jacket look more like it belongs than it does when he’s clean cut. Of course, he fucks up the hard-assed image with a Crysis 3 shirt and faded jeans. Jessica is sitting behind a massive marble desk on the far end of an office larger than most apartments in this city. Stygian does a slow turn around as he makes his way past the enclave of black leather furniture pointed at a massive entertainment center, around the long, polished meeting table and up to the desk.

Jesus, he’s bigger in person. I thought Corey was a big man, but sitting here, looking up at a seven foot man like this? Still, he is kind of roguishly handsome…

Mr. Gabriel, could you spare us your editorializing? Not only is it irrelevant, you really have no way of knowing what Ms. Matthews Casey was thinking…

I’m telling you doc, she was checking me out.

Jason, I hardly think that was the case. At this time your wife hadn’t left you, and even now Jessica certainly doesn’t seem as though she’s settled on a divorce. I doubt her interests in you were anything but professional.

I saw what I saw, Doc.

Yes, I’m certain you must have. But this is a tale about an important part of your journey. Your decision to return to the ring. Allow us to focus on that, shall we?

Right, coming back to the ring. Where was I?

You’d come to Matthews Enterprises for a meeting with Jessica Matthews-Casey.

Right. Chucks hall of ego. She was checking me out. We exchanged the awkward and uncomfortable handshake that you have with a person when you’d nearly beaten their husband to death a year ago, and she got right to it.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here.

Stygian: That would be putting it mildly. Of all the people in the whole world I thought would call me in for a meeting with them; you’re down there with like, the Pope and Fred Phelps.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: In all fairness, you had nearly beaten my husband to death the last time I saw you.

Stygian: Hey, I tried to stop that. I tried to stop the match! The ref tried to stop it, Brandon MacDonald tried to stop it…

Jessica waves her hand and shakes her head, cutting him off.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Yeah, I know. Chuck explained it to me. Hell, for a short while, even Corey said he couldn’t blame you. I’ve never been able to bring myself to watch the match, but I’ve had it explained to me that you had no choice.

Stygian: I admit, coming back to the medical center after the match was a dumb move.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: For all of us concerned. Let’s just say that’s in the past and be done with it, can we?

Stygian: So I haven’t been lured here for some kind of elaborate beating and revenge scheme?

Jessica Matthews-Casey: You have, but I want you to be the one delivering them.

Stygian: You have my attention.

She stalled it out then. Asked if I’d eaten ‘cause she was sending down to the canteen for lunch, I guess she’d skipped it or whatever. I think she was trying to give herself time to change her mind. She had them bring her a taco salad. I asked for a Diet Pepsi. It was around the time they came that she quit making small talk.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: That terrible attack on your wife and your…I’m sorry, what’s the best term?

Stygian: Girlfriend, for simplicity’s sake, is as good as any.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Okay, your wife and your girlfriend then…why didn’t you look for revenge?

Stygian: Who says I’m not going to?

Jessica Matthews-Casey: You claim to have retired. Several of your friends in the locker room have tried to contact you, you don’t take their calls. Johnny Electric says he hasn’t talked to you since the night of the attacks. This office hasn’t been able to get you on the phone in two months. Hell, it seems like the only person you have talked to from this company is Alexander Remington.

Why did you keep in contact with Alexander Remington?

It was more; he kept in touch with me.

But of all people?

You got me. I’m sure Alex was trying to have something to keep in his back pocket for later. Or maybe he was genuinely trying to help me. Remington was a soldier. I don’t trust much to his honor, but he said he considered the attack on Tina and Amber personally reprehensible, and that much I believe.

Why is that?

Because if he wanted to hurt me through them, he could have started a long time ago.

Ah, but it seems someone did want to hurt you through them.

Yeah, I was getting to that…

Stygian: I have nothing left to offer this company.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: So why retire? Why haven’t you sought your release? Go work somewhere else. God knows you’d win the lawsuit if Corey tried to fight to keep you here.

Stygian: Look, Jessica—I hope you don’t mind if I call you Jessica—Lilah was in a coma for five days, and as soon as she could walk straight, she got on a plane for Coeur d’Alene. She ran back home to live in her mother’s basement, she’s so terrified of what happened to her. And Tina? Tina had four discs in her lower back crushed. It took three weeks before she could feel anything lower than her belly button, and now she’s learning to walk again. Climbing into the ring with that fat fuck seemed to be pretty low on my list of priorities in comparison.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: So why is it I hear that you’re working out at Chuck Finley’s gym with some of the local talent in Denver? And why is it being reported that you’ve reached out to friends in Platinum Dynasty and SVW? I’ve heard you and Nova Wonder of ECWF are quite friendly.

Stygian: I’m not allowed to keep in shape and have friends? Look, why do you care? You’re Chuck’s sister. You’re Corey’s wife. You have absolutely zero to do with the running of IWF.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: That may be changing soon.

Stygian: I see, you’re being brought in for…you know what, I don’t care why you’re stepping into the company. Either your brother or your husband is pushing some buttons and you’re getting into the family business. Good for you.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Tell me something, Jason—you don’t mind if I call you Jason, do you? Tell me, didn’t you ever find it convenient that, that monster could take his sweet time knocking you out, tying you up and carrying out his attack? No wrestlers came down to help you, no security…you never found that fishy?

Stygian: I found it fishy as hell. Of course I did. There isn’t a day that’s gone by since it happened that I don’t replay it second for second in my head. I’ve seen that tape more than people have seen replays of 9/11. I’ve tried a hundred times to try and make any sense out of it.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: And you never once thought about coming back and making things right?

Stygian: What good what it do? Getting in the ring and beating the shit out of Death Angel wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. It won’t convince Lilah to come back. It won’t repair Lilith’s back. It won’t restore…blah blah blah…

Now, now Jason, don’t skip over things. In my experience, the things a patient wants to leave out are usually the most important things.

...the attack…it did…damage. It wrecked things…downstairs…for Tina.

It affected her ability to bear children?

It took it. Well, it reduced it by 98%, I don’t know how they put a percentage on that sort of thing, but the doctors seemed comfortable recounting that number repeatedly. It would have been a miracle to conceive a child after that.

Did that factor into the dissolution of your marriage?

We were talking about my meeting with Jessica!

Fine, but we’re going to talk about this in time.

Stygian: No match can take back what was taken from me.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Then why have you been training?

Stygian: Because…Tina’s getting better, and she says I’m hovering. I’m clinging, I’m getting in the way too much. She says we can’t let this change us, or Death Angel wins. She wants back into the ring once she’s cleared, so she told me to get ready.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: And you weren’t getting ready to come back to IWF?

Stygian: No. It’s fucking pointless. The corruption in IWF is systemic. Corey Casey has turned into his own private Nick Ridicule. He presides over the roster as an Emperor might preside over his court, making life or death decisions for the entire roster and deciding people’s fates and futures based solely on the proximity of their lips to his ass hole. He’s lay down the ultimatum to the entire roster: join us or die. I wasn’t even given that choice.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: So you think Corey had something to do with the attack?

Stygian: I think he held back troops and let it happen.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: And what if he did more?

Stygian: What do you mean?

Jessica Matthews-Casey: What if Corey didn’t just prevent any help from reaching you, what if I could show you that he had planned the attack?

Stygian: It wouldn’t make any difference. At the end of the day Corey Casey seems to hold all the power in IWF. Rick Christian was the only person who had any sort of claim to any of it, being CEO, and Corey fired his ass. It doesn’t matter who rises up to challenge Corey Casey unless the Board of Directors steps up and put somebody in place to stop him? Anybody bringing the fight to Corey Casey will wind up fired, hospitalized or worse…they’ll wind up like me.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: I brought you here, Jason, because the board is preparing to take action. You see Corey Casey is now the majority shareholder in IWF. He has simply outlasted the other of the “original three”. Even though Matthews Enterprises owns IWF, the corporate structuring was deliberately worded in such a way that he can’t just take over IWF. That was put in place to protect Brandon MacDonald and Corey from Chuck going on a power trip. However as Corey accumulated more and more shares of IWF itself it seems he is forgotten about a document he filed… Oh, two years or so ago now. You see Jason, in his first attempt to be rid of “The Lord”, Corey went on what he called at the time a “spiritual journey”.

Stygian: Yeah, I remember that. The infamous “ashram in Nepal” speech. Guy came back, declared open war on Rick Christian, set up some bullshit “test” to fire me and then tried to take on the whole structure with Upper Limit and feel completely once James Shark realize car was foolish and knocked his punk ass out.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: You remember your history.

Stygian: Kind of hard to forget that Jess, I got fired over the whole thing because Corey was still nuts. That ashram in Nepal did precisely dick for him.

Jessica chuckled, rolling a pen back and forth between her fingers across the polished surface of the desk.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Well you realized it quicker than any of us did. You see, to those of us who knew him; Brandon, Chuck, me… He seemed to have stabilized. We were so happy “The Lord” was gone that we never stopped to see just how much of Corey came back. Even without The Lord Corey Casey is a manic an unstable individual.

Stygian shrugs.

Stygian: You married the bastard.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Yes I did, because I loved him he was the father of my children.

Stygian: ”Loved” as in past tense?

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Jason I am markedly uninterested the state of your marriage, please stay out of mine.

Stygian: Fair enough. I’ve heard some things, but like you said: it’s your marriage.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: If the rumors you heard about a certain flame-headed, big-boobed slut…

Jessica pauses to catch her breath. After she pauses to compose herself and fight back tears which seem to be threatening. She takes a deep breath and fixes a practiced, steely gaze on the Black Dragon.

Stygian: Oooooooooookay. I know that look. I’ve been around this business long enough to know that fucking look.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: I take it it’s a common problem?

Stygian: More so than anybody would like to admit. Look, I think I can put the pieces together myself. Corey dipped his pen in company ink and you want someone put a hurt on him. Not knowing this business fairly well, you turned your brother and asked, “Who’s someone we can get to inflict the kind of pain on Corey usually reserved for Holocaust survivors in their Nazi revenge fantasies?” Naturally my name came up. All right Jess, you got me on first base. I can always listen when the subject comes to hurting Corey Casey; in fact I think history will show when it comes to hurting Corey Casey; I’ve given him the only beating he didn’t walk away from. But lay this down for me. How does this work? What else have you got? Corey still holds all the cards when it comes to the power struggle in IWF.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: When he took that trip to Nepal, Corey left a significant portion of his shares in my control. Now, I never did anything with them except when he told me to. In fact the process got to be so seamless, I think he honestly forgot that I was technically executing his voting rights with that stock. A considerable amount of Corey’s influence over the board and the way he rules with the iron fist is because he’s had the weight of the majority of the shares the company behind him. But legally he has never retaken the shares he signed over to me, and I wouldn’t give them back to him now if he begged.

Stygian: Oh, now this sounds like a Chuck Matthews plan if I’ve ever heard one!

Jessica Matthews-Casey: It is. Within the week, Chuck, acting solely as a mediator on behalf of Matthews Enterprises, of course…

Stygian: Of course!

Jessica Matthews-Casey: …is filing paperwork on my behalf to seize an amount of control of the company appropriate to the shares I own. Chuck says it’s unlikely that they will allow me a seat on the board due to the extenuating circumstances, but Commissioner isn’t out of the question and is, in fact, likely.

Stygian: Okay, so now I’m on second base.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Chuck is gathering some soldiers, people he can count to be loyal to him and take on the Empire, but he doesn’t really have a big gun. He had previously thought that perhaps Alexander Remington would take the mantle but, I don’t know if you watched Rising Monarchy but Alex rejoined The Empire and they pretty much beat Parker Wayde out of the company.

Stygian: Yeah, I saw that.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: You actually watched Rising Monarchy?

Stygian: No, I know Alexander Remington.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Fair enough. My point is; I want to bring you in. And this isn’t Chuck’s plan; because he thinks it’s insane. Chuck says you will never follow anybody or take orders from anyone.

Stygian: Chuck is right.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: That’s why I don’t plan to give you, well many orders.

Stygian: Try “any” orders.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Look Jason, I can’t just bring you back in and point you squarely Alexander Remington. You haven’t wrestled in almost 4 months for Christ sakes. Corey and Alexander will say you don’t deserve a world title match at this juncture and they would be right. But I have idea under which you can come in. Think of it as the price of admission. As secretive as we tried to keep this, that is my becoming commissioner, word has of course leaked, as it always does in this business, I’m told. Already my inbox in the voicemail the IWF set up for me this morning is flooded with guys asking for this and demanding that, I’m sure you can imagine.

Stygian: Yeah, I can.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: So Chuck came up with this tournament, I’m going to announce it. We haven’t quite got a name for it yet, but the idea is we’re going to take a bunch of guys who have never even had a shot at the IWF World Heavyweight Title and put them in the tournament. Now, if they can get through this tournament they’re not just going to walk into world title match. Chuck says that all they’ve proven is that they can beat and these are his words, “the best and brightest of the bottom of the barrel.” To truly deserve a World Heavyweight Championship match, they should have to be somebody who has been there before. A World Championship caliber wrestler.

Stygian: And let me guess? The old Black Dragon is the man to stand in the way.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: Precisely. I bring you back as my “chosen one” to sit at the head of this tournament and shoot down just about anybody who’s going to come out of it. Trust me, as obsessed as Corey is with keeping the World Title in his Empire he’s going to do his damnedest to make sure one of his flunkies wins it. So you’ll probably get your hands on one of them in your first match back.

Stygian: So I show up beat the shit out of whichever Empire Lackey Corey props up to win this thing and then what? I’ll venture as far as third base, Jessica, now convince me to come home!

Jessica nods solemnly and opens the right-hand drawer of the desk. She retrieves a manila envelope with “STYGIAN” written across it in large, black sharpie letters and hands it to him. Stygian tears open the end of the envelope and dumps its contents on the desk in front of him: two sheets of paper, a microSD card and a thumb drive.

Stygian: So what’s all this?

Jessica Matthews-Casey: This is a printout of the texts sent to the phone of Death Angel from the phone of my husband. The microSD card is from that very phone, I switched it out before he realized I knew about his cheating on me with Ruby and cloned all the data on it to his new card so he would know the difference. That will help you verify the texts. On that thumb drive is a bunch of stuff data-mined from our cellular provider. To be honest I don’t know what the hell that means, but Chuck’s says you will, and that you would want this stuff before we can convince you to come work for us.

Stygian examines the paper. His eyes move back and forth as he reads line after line of text. With each passing message his lips tighten in his eyes narrow into a fearsome countenance of silent rage. He looks back across the desk with such an expression that causes Jessica Matthews-Casey to jolt with fright. Silently, he returns the contents to the envelope, folds it closed and pushes down the little brass tabs to keep it shut. He stands then, with Jessica Matthews still fixed on him in breathless, wide-eyed shock. When he speaks his voice is low, almost a growl.

Stygian: Three things. First, going to need a new suit. The IWF costume department has never let me down before and I’m sure they will start now. Tell them no Superman bullshit. I tried to be the hero this fucking company, and all I got was my world title stolen, my wife’s back broken and Lilah so damn scared she ran home to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I’m done being a fucking hero. You tell them to look at World of Warcraft. At Deathwing’s human form, it won’t take more than a simple Google search. That’s the look I’m going for. Raw, elemental, molten and angry.

Jessica occupied herself taking notes hurriedly on a legal pad.

Stygian: Second thing; I don’t work for you. Let’s get that in the open right now! I don’t work for you, I’m not your “champion” and I don’t join whatever little boy band your brother puts together to fight Corey Casey’s band of merry madmen. I’m Kharn The Betrayer and you and your brother are Abbadon. I don’t fight for you, but point me in a direction and I'll kill everything in my way.

Jessica nods, looking up with her pen at the ready as if to take more notes.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: And the third thing?

Stygian: The tournament… Call it Siege Perilous.

Jessica Matthews-Casey: “Siege Perilous”?

Stygian: it was a seat at the Roundtable reserved by Merlin for the knight who would quest for the Holy Grail. The quest was so treacherous and so deadly that it would kill anybody who undertook it, except of course for Galahad who finally got the job done. Whoever you want this fucking tournament, Jess, there is no Sir Galahad in IWF.

Jessica idly nods, not sure what else to say about that.

Stygian: Oh and there’s one more thing, but you can’t do damn thing to change this, once I verify that Corey Casey ordered the hit on Lilith and Lilah, nothing is going to save him. I’m going to find your husband whether or not you decide to reconcile with him, I’m going to find the father of your children and I’m going to end his life. Once I walk out this door that’s my course, the essence of my existence. You aren’t rubbing a genie’s bottle and getting him to grant you three wishes. You are summoning a Black Dragon and you promised him the blood the man who cut out his heart. If you have any second thoughts about what’s going to happen to Corey Casey you have until I close that door behind me to voice them.

I am assuming she didn’t try to dissuade you.

She didn’t even think about it. When they say “Hell hath no fury…” They aren’t kidding. Like, she didn’t even look up when I told her that I was going to destroy her husband. I mean, either that’s what she wants or she thinks I was exaggerating.

I see. So how is it Alexander Remington came to recommend my services to you.

Well, Jessica did call me before I got out of the lobby. And I thought maybe she’d changed her mind. But I wasn’t going to listen to her, because you know, I already gave her that chance. But she said that the suspension Corey Casey put me under was still valid.

The suspension for the attack on mister...Let me look at my notes here… Chris Wade?

That’s the one. Some asshat Corey put me in a match with just to have an excuse to fire me for breach of contract because he thought I wasn’t gonna show up.

This was immediately following the attack was it not?

Yep. Anyway, I showed up and tuned up this kid. I mean I put him through a table, then I took out a baseball bat and went to town on IWF security, I even thought about charging the Detroit PD guys who came out to stop me, but they had guns. So Corey Casey suspended me pending a “psychological evaluation”.

At which point Alexander Remington recommended me to you. When did Alexander Remington enter the picture and offer you my card?

The very next moment. I stepped out of the huge sliding glass doors of the Matthews Entertainment billing and just as I raised my hand and called for a taxi, a black limo pulled around the corner stopped right in front of me.

Alexander Remington?

A-yep.

Now this point had Alexander Remington returned to The Empire?

He had.

So you knew that you had just signed on to become his enemy.

I’m always Alexander Remington’s enemy. We don’t connect on several fundamental levels. For one, he reminds me of my cousin Chris. But that’s another story and I don’t think it’s relevant to any of my current issues. I just don’t like my cousin Chris. He’s a douche. For two, Alex and I both want to be the best. But we both take very different routes to get there. I’m willing to sacrifice anything of myself I need to, to attain that level. Alex approaches wrestling in much the same way I imagine he approaches business: to sell his soul to whatever demon or devil can give him the most power. I believe my greatness should come from within; Alex believes on stepping on whoever he needs to, to attain his. I’m Rocky Balboa, he’s Ivan Drago.

And this man pulls up to you in a limousine and what?

Offers me a ride.

Did he realize you were coming back to oppose him?

Hell, I think he was counting on it. But, hey, free ride.

And you didn’t suspect any kind of a trap?

No. Because beating me up on a Chicago street won’t get Alex what he wants. You have to understand Alexander Remington and the way I understand Alexander Remington; he’s a diva. He wants the parades and the bands and the trumpets and flowers thrown at his feet and everyone bowing down and worshiping him as their king. Hiring a goon squad to mug me in Chicago would beat me, but not in the way Alexander Remington wants to beat me. It would be the smart thing to do, but with Alexander Remington smart takes a backseat to style. He wants to beat me in the ring. I think he even thinks he can.

So you get into his limo and?

The limo was a rental, I don’t think Alexander has any corporate holdings that aren’t in New Orleans or Los Angeles so he didn't have one of his handy. This was a Cadillac, Remington's personal limos are usually Mercedes Benz. Actually I think he has something in New York too, because when he arranged for me to go to Pittsburgh, it was one of his personal drivers in New York I recognized. Alex probably paid for them to drive down and be his chauffeur that week. It was a big week as I recall, I believe Alexander Remington won the UECW World Heavyweight Title that night. Anyway… Alex was of course dressed impeccably in a suit. If I recall, he said something about it being a $2500 Armani, I think. He said, in his characteristically mocking tone, that was nice to see that I was still saving on my wardrobe and went on to elucidate how one pair of his shoes probably cost more than the entire contents of my closet. It’s completely ridiculous; most of my shoes have to be custom-made by necessity, they’re at least as expensive as some of his. Anyway, we dispensed with the pleasantries, which are actually never pleasant with us and Alex revealed that a secret is about as hard to keep in the wrestling business as a bra is to keep on in a Girls Gone Wild video.

Alexander Remington: So Jessica talked you in to coming back, huh?

Stygian: Now, I know you don’t have me bugged.

Alexander Remington: Well I’ve tried; you’re so damn paranoid you always sweep yourself for ‘em.

Stygian: It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, and you seem to be.

Alexander Remington: You built a Faraday Cage into your house for God’s sake! I mean; you built a Faraday Cage that runs through your whole fucking house.

Stygian: And you wonder why I’m paranoid?

Alexander Remington: You had to file the blueprints with the permits, sir. That’s not exactly hard to find.

Stygian: The fact that you are digging through the hall of records in Englewood, Colorado’s a little disturbing.

Alexander Remington: Oh please, Jason. I didn’t look them up myself; I paid somebody to send me high-resolution photos.

Stygian rolls his eyes and taps his fingers against the armrest of the chair he sits in the far end of the limousine from Alexander Remington.

Stygian: Well it’s obvious you don’t have any bugs on me, so… Chuck’s office, really?

Alexander Remington: The thing about you guys from recon ops, you think everything’s about electronic devices. It’s so much easier to pay the secretary to leave the intercom on and get all the details I need in a series of text messages.

Stygian: So you know I’m…Well, I’m coming for you.

Alexander Remington: You say that as if it isn’t what I want, Jason. Plus don’t be so dramatic, I know you can’t resist but, please try; you’re not coming for me. You are coming for Corey Casey. I want you to know, I mean, I think you know already; but I had nothing to do with what happened to Lilith and Lilah. I am a backstabbing, scheming, ruthless, son of a bitch; but even I draw the line somewhere.

Stygian: You did put Jaci through a steel chair.

Alexander Remington: Come now, Jason, you know that’s not an apples to apples comparison. Jaci Sovereign was an active competitor who got in the ring week in and week out.

Jaci Sovereign, is this the woman that you are…

Back to the story!

Alexander Remington: Lilith and Lilah were never combatants. Even though you were but a computer geek in the Air Force I expect you know something of the rules of engagement, do you not Jason? No civilians, period.

Stygian: Why exactly are you here, Alex? You didn’t come to Chicago to save me some fucking cab fare.

Alexander Remington: As ever Jason, I’m here to get you back in the ring.

Stygian: Really, Alex? You seem quite content to hurl insults about me being gutless and having a crippled wife over Twitter and bury me.

Alexander Remington: And you saw through that. It was as transparent as you thought it was, I thought I can spur you to return simply by insulting you. But, it didn’t work. You have changed, Jason. For better or worse; you are different. There’s a palpable difference in the way you conduct yourself. I don’t know if it’s made you better, or if it’s going to make you worse. I’ll be damned if I let that fat fuck claim the glory of driving you out of the sport when it should be mine.

Stygian: You realize your every bit as sick as he is, right?

Alexander Remington: Jason, what you, the fans and my ex…

His ex being Jaci Sovereign. The woman that you seem to be…

Intterupting. BACK TO THE STORY!

You’re deflecting again, Jason.

I thought the story was important!

And the fact that your seemingly dating your rivals ex-girlfriend isn’t?

Alexander Remington: … and my ex mistake for a crazed, unhinged obsession; I merely think of as cementing my legacy. I actually do care how I’m remembered, even if I don’t compete for these fans and I don’t compete against these wrestlers; I do compete against myself and the history of this business. You are too shortsighted to see it and that’s immaterial. What’s important is that when the time comes nobody gets to put you in the grave but me.

Stygian: Yeah, whatever man. The fact that you’re willing to commit resources to get me back in the ring just so you can have a chance to knock me out of it? That’s more than a little diseased, Alex.

Alexander Remington: Actually, as I hear it you are the one who’s sick in the head. I hear you need a psychological evaluation before you get back in the ring.

Stygian: Yeah, it’s complete bullshit. I went nuts less than a week after my wife and my lover had been brutally attacked. I was booked in a match I never should’ve been in, so I showed up with a fifth of whiskey and a baseball bat and filed a protest with Corey Casey. That’s not indicative of a long-term mental illness, I was clearly distraught and under a great deal of stress and the influence of alcohol.

Alexander Remington: I agree. But if you want this transition to be easy, I would recommend getting an independent opinion. A psychologist who Corey picks is not going to allow you back in the ring; anyone Chuck and Jessica find is going to be protested out the ass by Corey. It will be months of legal back and forth before you’re even allowed in the building.

Stygian: I take it you have somebody you think we can slip past Jessica and Corey and get back in the ring ASAP.

Alexander Remington: It just so happens that I do! With your permission I will have one of my lawyers file paperwork on your behalf stating your intent to seek treatment with Dr. Gordon Wyatt. He’s completely independent, and the IWF Board of Directors will ok him the second they google him.

Stygian: Is he any good?

Alexander Remington: He’s the only shrink I personally have ever seen. He’s the only one I will ever see. He’s the only psychologist I trust personally.

Stygian: And why’s that?

Alexander Remington: Because when I tried to bribe him to get access to his patient history, he’s the only one who actually reported me to the police.

Stygian: Whose files did you want?

Alexander Remington: I didn’t, I wanted to see if he could be bought before I agreed to let him treat me.

Stygian: What the hell did you need a shrink for?

Alexander Remington: You mean besides the litany of undiagnosed mental illnesses you and everyone else tries to pin to me every other fucking day the week? Let’s just say my life has been…complicated, Jason. The sum total, the gestalt of my neuroses is boundless. You forget I have suffered the death of a wife and child. Every now and then even I require the services of trained professional. There’s no shame in admitting you need help, Jason.

Stygian: All right, give me his number.

And the rest? Well, you know the rest. You did the psych eval, you recommended additional treatment…yeah, you know pretty much everything else.

Jason, I don’t think I know the half of it. You’re a complex man with some very complex problems, Jason. You have trust issues with just about anybody except Christina, who has left you and Chuck Finley with whom you hardly ever converse while sober. But, I think in spite of yourself you’re going to make some progress here. I understand you have a match this weekend?

Yes I do. One of Corey Casey’s little flunkies. He won that whole Siege Perilous tournament and now he gets to try to go through me to get a shot at the World Title.

And are you prepared for this? Are you prepared to return to the ring? Are you prepared to face down one of the foot soldiers of the man who ordered the attack which changed your very life?

I am. For him, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. For me, it’s the opportunity to send a fucking message. I’ve been gone a long time. People have forgotten who I am. How I’ve got punks who never even seen me in the ring calling me out because they think they can make their name at my expense. I got this little twerp Matt Stone who I’m
gonna settle up with after I take care Philip Joseph. The dude just talked back to me on twitter because I pointed out the fact that he lacks serious skills with the ladies. Just mouthed off like he wasn’t gonna have to pay for it. No, Corey Casey is the end goal but there are plenty of people seem to forgotten just who I am and just what I do. No Doc, I am damn ready for this. This Sunday’s about sending a message, not just to Corey Casey but to the whole fucking roster who thinks just because I was gone I wasn’t listening. Just because my back was turned they could talk some shit. Oh I’m ready.

Why yes Mr. Gabriel, I think you are. That concludes our session for this week. I shall see you next week.


The scene looks like something out of Lord of the rings or perhaps World of Warcraft or really any movie or video game were we are rewarded with a glimpse inside of a medieval-style workshop where swords and armor are being prepared. Situated around various tables and anvils in what looks to be a perfectly circular stone room are burly, grizzled looking men pounding on vaguely armor-shaped hunks of molten metal slowly cooling via the convection of the air as the various blacksmiths labor over them. In the center of the room stands a man who, if not for his recent appearance on the latest Battle Grounds would be completely unrecognizable. He looks different than we’re accustomed to seeing him. For one, he stands seemingly naked with only flickering shadows maintaining his decency without the necessity for a black box or blurs over his naughty bits. His long hair, a shockingly new feature on him, hangs straight down with a few errant strands occasionally blowing into his face like wisps on the wind as the air in the room constantly changes between the various furnaces and bellows constantly blowing to heat the metal with which the blacksmiths labor all around him, seemingly so focused on their tasks that they do not notice a 7 foot tall naked man in the middle of the room. He reaches up to scratch at his chin, the sound of close-cut fingernails raking over short, bristly stubble making a scritching noise not unlike steel wool being rubbed over sandpaper. Once his hand falls back to his side, The Black Dragon remains perfectly still and resolute, speaking over the clanging din of hammers forging armor all around him.

Stygian: Anguish. Pain. Torment. These are words I thought I understood. These are words whose very meaning are been my stock-in-trade. For years pain has been my business and business was unquestionably good. I made a living being one of the most feared competitors on the planet in one of the most brutal combat sports ever conceived. I made my reputation by coming down to that ring each and every week no matter who was in it and defeating most of them. Throw a dart at the most relevant, popular and accomplished competitors of the last decade. Chances are I’ve been in the ring with them. And it’s more than likely I’ve beaten them. Take a look through the IWF Hall of Fame! I’ve been in the ring with all of them except Carmine Vesteri. And I’ve beaten all of them except for “The Strikeback Kid” Johnny Styles, and I came damn close to beating Johnny. Look down the list of world champions of this company, it’s easy to name off the ones I haven’t beaten. Seriously, Vincent Van Rose, Chad Mason and Alexander Remington are the only IWF World Heavyweight Champions I’ve never beaten. Probably not coincidentally, they’re the only ones I’ve never been in the ring with! So I look back on his body of work I think it’s safe to say I thought I knew the meaning of pain, anguish and torment. I thought it was safe to say that I had at one time or another inflicted these things on dozens of men throughout the course of what is rapidly becoming one of the most memorable and prolific careers in our sport. It took one man on one very fateful night to teach me that I truly knew nothing of anguish. I had never seen or felt through pain. I knew nothing of torment.

Two of the men who had been working at the periphery of the room, to the naked form of Stygian now, holding what looked to be black leather pants affixed with steel buckles down the outside of the legs and a pair of overlinked plate boots with three layered jagged steel plates protruding from the ankle joint up over the shin and affixed to black leather. Stygian takes the pants from one of the men and turns his back to the camera. He steps into the pants and pulls them up before turning around to the man holding the boots. Stygian gestures and the boots are placed on the ground in front of him where he steps into them one-by-one after which, the man kneels and cinches up three buckles that locked behind Stygian’s calf. The man who presented him with the pants holds out a simple black leather belt with a buckle that looks like a jagged steel dragon scale. Stygian throws the belt around himself and fastens it with an audible click. These two men take their leave as the rest continue working.

Stygian: They used to call me Superman. From the time my music played until the final bell rang, grown men sat in awe of me as though I was some sort of comic book character come to life. I performed feats of strength, I was dashing and daring; I was a larger-than-life hero who stood up against oppression and carried the flag for all that was decent and good. I always defeated the bad guy and I always saved the girl…until the night I didn’t. That night is a recurring nightmare to me. I can never get it out of my head. To this day I feel the handcuffs pulling on my wrist as I try to free myself from that turnbuckle. I have scars, tiny parallel scars the outside of my radius and ulna… two tiny, pink, almost undetectable scars where the pieces of metal on the top of the cuffs, you know where the bottom bit slides around and through to unhook them? I have these tiny will scars where I pulled and pulled and pulled, trying to free myself so I could save Lilith and Lilah. I used to think I was strong until my strength failed me that night. I have picked up and tossed around 300, 400, 500 pound men with no difficulty, but that night I couldn’t break a half-inch chain-link to save my family. I thought it was strong but on that fateful night I was shown how week and frail I truly am.

Two more men approach Stygian now, carrying what appears to be a breastplate forged out of interlocking steel plates between which molten steel still freely flows perpetually. Stygian holds up his arms in the craftsman raise the plate up and then lowered down over his torso, buckling it at the sides. Stygian waves his arms around himself, first back and forth crossing his hands over and under each other at chest level, and then winding his long muscular arms in big slow circles as he tries to stretch the garment was little it would seem he could. These workmen too, vacate the workshop leaving just one man banging away on some piece of steel braced at the end of an anvil. The molten-armor clad Stygian steps forward into better light, now that he is fully decent and stares intently into the camera.

Stygian: There was a time when a match like this be so far beneath my notice that I would, and could, mail it in and win without breaking a sweat. I mean who the hell is Philip Joseph? Some guy who won some tournament against a bunch of people who haven’t been here long enough to earn the name or the right to have a pronounced correctly or have been here so long and haven’t earned a substantial name that you can only consider the careers a miserable failure. And being forced to sublimate myself to be in this kind of a match use to revile me. There was a time when I would considered having to take on some man who hadn’t even been Uprising Champion so beneath me that I would have demanded the match changed. That was Superman. I don’t know what sort of romantic notions you people held about me. I don’t know what sort of heroism you ascribed to me. But that’s the truth of what I had become. In some ways I had perhaps become drunk off of my own legend, a sin I accused many men of committing against me while I was on my own way up. Was perhaps a lesson in order? Was I need of humbling? Did I need to learn some humility? You see all of us come to what we think is our pinnacle and we think where the mountaintop when someone grabs us by the ankle and pulls us back down. We have to be reminded that we are not invincible. And to be honest, though it took two men and a crooked referee to do it, I truly thought that The Empire taught me the humility I in retrospect must’ve needed. But you see all Corey Casey, Parker Wayde and Baron Thompson taught me that night was that if the plan was sufficient in the numbers were favorable enough even I could lose. It was Death Angel who was the first man in a long time to remind me that I am actually, in fact mortal.

Stygian: The thought of turning to Lilith and Lilah and using them in some sort of crude, crass way to hurt me has been thought of before. It’s been employed with premeditation as Corey Bull did when he and his dike half-sister managed to kidnap Lilith and hold her hostage for a month, trying to trade her safety for the UECW World Title. It’s been done by countless opponents as a spur-of-the-moment thing, placing one or both of them in the way as some sort of shield to allay or deter my offense. It’s been done to truly a Machiavelli level by Alexander Remington at the behest of Corey Casey; leveraging Lilith forced me to compete as a representative of Alexander Remington to determine the stipulation of some matching was having with some guy whose name now escapes me. It had varying degrees of success. Corey Bull I would care more about Lilith’s safety than securing the world title, the possibility that I could come up with a way to do both seemingly never entering his mind. Various opponents here and there have sometimes managed to use them successfully as shields and gain temporary advantages, though rarely enough to ensure a favorable outcome. Truly Alexander Remington is the only man who’s ever gotten what he wanted out of manipulating the women in my life; he got me to fight and win on his behalf against…Erik Reighns? Was that the guy’s name? The “Manimal”? I forget. Shows what kind of impression he made on me huh? He had a better nickname than an actual name, I don’t think I have ever will ever cross paths with him again. Anyway, turning my wife and my lover against me has been thought of before and executed with varying degrees of success. If I was Superman they were unquestionably my kryptonite. But one man…one man found that pressure point and pushed it until it broke.

There’s a loud, violent hiss as the only man left working in the room plunges what appear to be plate gloves into a vat of water; before bringing them over, still steaming, to Stygian. The workman holds the gloves out and Stygian takes them one-by-one. The gloves look like his chest piece; jagged steel plates haphazardly linked over a flowing background of molten steel. Stygian pulls the half-finger gloves up, a little ways past his wrist until they fit snugly around his fingers which he flexes back and forth several times, finally making fists to stretch them out until they’re comfortable. The last of the craftsmen takes his leave, leaving the now fully armor-clad Stygian standing in the middle of the workshop amidst the glowing forges and softly-pumping bellows, replete now in his full molten raiment and basking in the pulsing orange light of an open forge which illuminates his features and casts sharp shadows all around the room.

Stygian: It is fortuitous then that so many of the harsh lessons I was taught, and so many of the underhanded tactics against whose employ I suffered seem to have come together in such a magnificent confluence so as to serve as a perfectly suitable juncture of the genesis of what I consider a new era in my life and in my career. You see I have been provided with an verified incontrovertible proof that though the attack which cut out my heart was undoubtedly carried out by the Death Angel; the planning and ordering of the attack was perpetrated by Corey Casey. Corey Casey, in order to build his Thousand Year Empire sacrificed my heart to the dark Lord which burns in his vile soul. It wasn’t enough that he took my crown and place it on the head of a man who ultimately wound up being The Empire’s court jester; a fool who danced around, taunting a Dragon for their own amusement. Corey Casey, in order to build his Thousand Your Empire sought to destroy me so that I would not be around to stop the coronation of his true chosen king. And Corey Casey sought to destroy me by cutting out my heart. It was a sound plan, Corey. Most creatures that walk the earth? When you cut out their heart, they simply die. Removing the heart is an almost instantaneous death sentence for…well any creature I can think of…except one. When the time comes Corey, remind me to thank you. Because I let these people get to me. I made the mistake here that I’d never made before in my career. I let the chants and chairing and the hoopla; I let the fanfare in the praise of the press clippings all get to me. I let myself believe that I could be a hero and in so doing I you take away what was most precious to me in this world. Some call you a terrorist, but I think of you as a teacher. Lesson One: Heroes—There Are No Such Thing. When you and your brother-in-law decided to go to war for the fate this company I picked up the banner, I held world championship aloft and I tried to be the shining example that everyone in this company could look to. This is what The Insurgency did to me; I offered you heaven, but you fought for the right to live in hell. I tried to make the sacrifices of a hero, the only thing it cost me with my marriage and from what I’m told quite possibly my sanity. Okay then…

Stygian: So you have to see Philip, four months ago this little confrontation with you would have been abhorrently beneath me. Because you’re the kind of two-bit thug that Superman, hell Superman doesn’t waste his time on two-bit thugs like yourself. Superman’s got actual fucking villains to deal with, and IWF’s Superman? He was no different. And I had a great fucking cast of villains, Philip. I had some of the best, man. I had The Jester; the man who was stupid enough to think Corey Casey a chosen him to be king, but really was just a tool to get the title off of me because nobody else could do it without some insane scheme. I had The Jester’s sidekick Blaze! The possibly-homosexual pyromaniac who helped The Jester perpetrate the crime of the century: stealing the greatest treasure in the land from its greatest hero. I had so many damn villains, Philip. Hell I had them lining up. So many of them were gonna come and challenge the Man of Steel. Of course I had the most devious of all the villains sitting quietly in Boston plotting his revenge. The man I threw off the top of a 30 foot high steel cage, broke his back and ended his career. Of anyone who ever challenged The Lord, I’m the only one who ever managed a lasting defeat over him. And to be honest, I thought that was the end of it. When I went down to that ring, stuck my hand out shook his hand? I was dumb enough to think this was over then. I didn’t realize that son of a bitch would take nearly a year to plot his revenge, and I sure as hell didn’t think he would get it in the way that he did.

Stygian: So, Philip when I say you the kind of two-bit thug I wouldn’t waste a second thought on back in the day? That was when I was still playing hero. I’m done playing hero. You might be a two-bit thug who won a tournament against a bunch of other curtain jerkers like yourself. You might have defeated bunch of people who either are has-beens, never-worse or art-their-yets…but one thing that separates you most of that tournament? You are one of Corey Casey’s two-bit thugs. And that Mr. Joseph makes all of the difference. I told you on twitter that you weren’t ready for this and your response was…In a whiny voice…”I’m coming in with nothing but respect.” Back in his regular voice. You’re coming in with respect, huh? I wish I could say the same, Philip. If I did I would be lying and even though I’m no longer aspiring to be Superman, there are certain personal morals I still value. And I just can’t lie to you. And I just can’t respect a man who goes around bashing women in the back of the head from their blindside screaming “for the Empire” like that makes it all right. For the Empire. We’ve had some gifted liars, some outrageous charlatans and some truly reprehensible people and never have more disingenuous words ever been spoken in IWF. For the Empire. The battle cry of the weak. A rallying point for posers and charlatans. The extension of one man’s ego. One man who lost his livelihood fair and fucking square and couldn’t let it go. Corey Casey could no longer stand the fact that belt wasn’t around his waist, that his face was in on the poster, that his name wasn’t on the main event…he couldn’t stand that the game had passed him by. Corey Casey could not stand that his livelihood had been taken from him and it was his own damn fault. And this is the man you follow?

Stygian: For you this is the most momentous match, the single greatest moment of your life. It is your chance to do something pure and righteous in your chosen profession. And rest assured, Philip, it will be just you. There will be no Empire coming down to help you out. Because what I’m going to do is I’m going to come down to that ring in my snazzy new molten armor gear, with a galvanized steel chain and a tungsten-carbide lock. I’m going to wrap up those doors and lock them from the inside. After all, it is the simplest solutions that always bring me the most joy. I’m going to lock that cell up, I’m going to climb into the ring and I am going to expose to you one unadulterated truth. The same truth I told you that night in Memphis, the same thing I told you on twitter same thing I’m going to tell you now: you are not prepared. I was one of the most feared, most respected most vaunted and difficult men to fight in this business when I still had a weakness. What you should do in your little Empire locker room is take a long hard look at Corey Casey and thank him. Because Corey Casey once said he hunted down the last vestiges of his insanity in ashram in Nepal and had found peace? We all know now that bullshit. He claims to gotten rid of his psychoses? I don’t think he even got rid of The Lord. But what Corey Casey did hunt down and destroy? Was the one thing anybody could ever use to destroy me.

Stygian: Lilith and Lilah are gone. And I will never make the mistake of investing so much of myself in another woman or pair of women ever again. Not until I retire. Because losing them nearly destroyed me. It almost killed me and took me out of the sport. But it didn’t. And there’s an old saying, Philip. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Obviously I still draw breath so even though Corey Casey, when he ordered Death Angel come down, restrain me and destroy Lilith and Lilah? When he signed the death warrant to cut out my heart? Oddly enough, didn't kill me. Therefore it doesn’t take an overtly keen mind to deduce that since he didn’t kill me he made me stronger. Stronger. I want you to go back I want to look through each and every that I won. I understand you are in UECW at a time when I wasn’t. But you heard of me. Go back and find those tapes. Go back and look at it all. Look at the names of the people I’ve demolished. The titles I’ve won. Look at all the Hall of Fame caliber competitors wound up Baneblade into the mat and counting the lights when they came across me. And then look in my corner. See the two beautiful women residing there. See the last vestiges of weakness I ever possessed. And when I come down to that ring Sunday realize that they aren’t coming with me. I am bringing no weakness because I don’t possess it anymore. That was what The Empire has truly given wrestling. That is what The Empire has given IWF. Corey Casey wanted to create a force that would dominate IWF and reshape it into something new and infinitely more fearsome. He thought that by stockpiling titles and snapping up the Alexander Remingtons’, the Tiffani Michaels’ the Axle Vengeances’ that his Thousand Year Empire would actually be a self-fulfilling prophecy. But the true genius of Corey Casey’s creation wasn’t The Empire at all. Because The Empire is fleeting. The Empire is weak. The Empire will crumble and dissolve before him. Corey Casey’s true gift, is true legacy will not be you and the rest of the New Kids on the Block. Ironically trying destroy me, trying to remove me; Corey Casey made me into the force, into the weapon he foresaw reshaping IWF with. He removed any aspirations of heroism I might have held and he has convinced me to forward without weakness, without pity, without remorse and without restraint. In killing Superman, Corey Casey resurrected The Black Dragon.

Stygian: Corey Casey managed to rekindle the fire and brings the Destroyer of Worlds back to the surface; and this time with nothing to restrain. The only thing that ever To me from completely overtaking UECW or IWF was the fact that the pair of those women could appeal the shreds of humanity and decency I still have in the recesses of my soul it was the fact that the two of them inspired me with their love and their kindness to be something greater than I would ever aspired to be on my own. They were the ones who brought out Superman. They were the ones who inspired me to try to be a hero. Now there is nobody. This is the start of a whole new chapter, Philip. This is the start of every monster movie anyone has ever seen. This is the part where the monster emerges and some hapless little piece of resistance that should be significant is utterly destroyed and people realize just what it is they’re up against. You’re like that little ship in every Star Trek movie when the big bad ship comes in and destroys it with one shot. You’re the military base the Godzilla steps on and walks off. You can go on and on about having a backup plan. You can think that the Empire will run down and save you. You can even prop yourself up by saying you’ve won three matches in the tournament to get to this point. The bottom line is that you are no different from the rest of IWF: you are not prepared. You are going to pay for your sins, Philip. You’re going to pay for the sins you committed on behalf of the Empire. I don’t care if you committed them of your own recognizance or if you were” just following orders”. That shit didn’t work at Nuremberg and it’s not going to work in Atlanta. This little group Corey Casey’s assembled is nothing but a cadre of malcontent and excrement. You must’ve thought you were real tough man jumping Blyss Lockhart from behind. Did it feel good, Phil? Did make you feel tough, standing over her she bled out? Did you feel like a big, strong man? Did you feel like a badass? Well guess what, Phil? I’m going to teach what tough is. I’m going to show you what a big, strong man is. I’m going to introduce you to a real badass. You are not prepared.

Stygian turns on his heel and walks out the door of the shop. The lingering image of all of the medieval tools and workings allowed to endure for a few seconds before slowly fading out.

OCC: Sorry had a crazy week at work but I busted this out in the last hour. Hope you enjoy...