Steve is sat comfortably on his black leather chair in grey track suit bottoms and a white vest. Evidently hungover, cans of Fosters lager were all over the room and table. There was also left over Nando's chicken on the counter from the night before and Steve's mind was hazy. The room stunk of stale beer. His mobile phone began vibrating on the wooden table and Steve looked at it regretfully. Holding his head and stretching his arm out he answered the phone.

“What!?”

“Hello Steve, it's the Vice-President of the Administration Network. I am calling you to inform you on your Lethal Lottery tag team partner.”

“Well go on then get the fuck on with it.”

The Vice-President clears his throat before speaking clearly.

“Your partner is none other than JTC!”

Steve falls off of the sofa and spits a sip of beer all over the room.

“Who?”

“JTC”

“Yeah you're going to have to explain to me who he is...”

“Look him up.”

“For fuck sake why does this always happen to me? Who even hired you anyway? Why would anyone want to team up with JTC? How did he even get to round two? Before that has he ever won a match? Seriously.. No... Seriously! Has he ever won a fucking match!?”

Steve's shock begins to turn to fury. He turns red like a cherry and throws the phone across the room.

“Worthless piece of shit. Administration Network fucks.”

Steve had been fighting an uphill battle for the best part of his life but this was a battle that he wasn't sure if even he could win. JTC was carried into round two and has made little or no impact since... well ever. This was going to be tougher than surviving on his own as a child. Tougher than both of his time at Hellington Asylum and even tougher than when he won the X-Treme Championship. Being announced that you're in round 2 of the Lethal Lottery is all well and good, but your partner being JTC makes it more of a curse. It's like being named THE BEST LOOKING PERSON.... In the burns unit. Or like becoming AN INTERNATIONAL FOOTBALL(soccer) PLAYER... For the United States of America Steve collapses onto the sofa and falls into a hazed sleep once more.

The dream was a dark dream. He stood on top of a sky scraper made of mist, looking out into the busy city that was painted black. The winds flew past him but he did not even think about stepping back despite being on the edge. A strong gust soared by though and Davids turned around. On the other side of the top of the building stood a man in a cloak. It was not the mysterious old man that Steve had become accustomed to though. The man did not turn and his sad voice travelled through the viscous winds. A mysterious song of sadness echoed around the mist and fog.



“Ah Steve. When will you ever learn?”

The voice was muffled by some sort of mask and it was hard to understand him. The words were bullets striking Steve in the heart.

“Who are you?”

“You cannot blame the Network for your partner. You cannot blame anybody. You must learn that there are always things that you need to overcome and this is just another one of those things. If you were as strong as you continue to claim you are then you would know this. Intelligence was never going to run through you though. Where are the brains behind the operation that is Steve Davids anyway? Where is Blaine?”

“I no longer fight for just Steve Davids. I fight for the Brotherhood.”

The man cackled and shook his head looking down.

“Ha. Is that really true Steve? It's always been you. It always will be you. You are a man who is obsessed with himself. Obsessed with proving his almighty power. You are still as strong on the exterior ever Steve. It's inside that you lack any force. Sebastian Duke has manipulated you and now you are his lap dog. You fight so that he can become King or so it would seem....”

“I fight so that I can end the Black Circle once and for all. John Madison does not belong on that throne.”

“Aye, that may be so. Is it really about getting him off of the throne though Steve? We all know that what you want more than anything is to sit atop of that throne yourself with the golden crown on YOUR head. It's not about Duke. It's not about Madison. It's the same as it's always been, this is all about YOU! It was always you. From the day you were born.”

A tear started to roll down Steve's face. He went cold. Goosebumps came to the surface of his rugged skin and his voice became a sad icy whimper.

“Who are you?”

The man turned. A grin behind his plain black mask. He reached up with his hands that were suffocated by black leather and took of the mask.


As he turned he also pulled off his cloak and stared Steve in the eyes. Steve dropped to his knees immediately and grinds his teeth in fury. He stares down at the floor.

“You knew it was me. It's always me.”

[i] Steve got to his feet and sprinted at the man who turned to dust on touch. Steve threw the punch but landed straight on the ground. He turned. Puzzled. He began to pant frantically. Roars of desperation then echoed around the mysterious venue and the intense music came to an end.

Steve woke up in a fit with his fists clenched tight. He threw punches at almost every object in the room and flipped up his own plasma television...

The image of the man continued to haunt him.

Who was the man he saw I hear you ask? The man it always is, was and will be.

The man who abandoned Steve. The man who branded him a murderer and the man who wanted nothing other than suffering and pain for his own blood. Steve's Father...


Seth Davids. Sadistic defined.

3x Xtreme Champion
1x Briefcase Holder
1x Television Champion
1x Universal Champion