"You

Have

Not

Been

Paying

Attention."

These words, like ice, clung to the cold iron walls of the empty train car. All was wrapped up in a blanket of dark, with the only sliver of light coming from the slightly ajar sliding door to one side of the car. For a brief moment, a malancholic calm hung in the air, like the last sigh of a man who has finally given up. The entirety of the world stood encapsulated in an instant of passing regret. But all beautiful sorrows must end, and the sun must rise and leave the lost behind. The calm erupted, violated by the screeching sound of the metal door of the car being slowly pulled open. Bathed in the light of the outside world leaking in, he climbed up and into the car, being careful not to dirty his carefully-chosen outfit.

"Oh, you are not a bright one, are you?"

His words reverberated around the car, turning his every turn of phrase into a mad cacophony of several tones, each metallic and cold.

"Good lord, man, you must have been dropped on your head repeatedly and intentionally when you were an infant. I mean, you have the look of it, don't you, Griffin? Like a neanderthal was viciously assaulted with a pipe wrench by an entire team of Welsh rugby players. But really, at the end of the day, it's not about who's prettier, is it? Let's examine your mental capacity..."

The Ancient began to pace in place, hands clasped behind his back as he went over the facts in his head. It was a simple process; not much to really organize. A simple matter of reciting the obvious. And my, how obvious it truly was.

"Well, hate to be the one to break the bad news...no, actually, I love doing that...but according to my expert opinion on the matter, you're utterly mad. You'd have to be, knowing that you have ME as your opponent, but you waste your time on the biggest blowhard in this company. I mean, really. Gilmour is as much a threat as a sick chihuahua puppy nipping at your ankles. Meanwhile, directly across from you is a very angry Caucasian Ovcharka.

But really, let's get to the thick of the matter, shall we?"

Now looking rather amused, he slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing what appeared to be a miniscule remote control. Holding back laughter, Mystica aimed the remote at one end of the rail car and pressed a button.

There was a pause, followed by a guttural, metallic series of crunching noises. After a moment of these sounds, two slits on the metal wall opened up, and from between them slid the lens of a projector. However, in sheer defiance of Mystica's increasingly giddy facial expressions, the lens flickered once...twice...and then projected the last image the Old One needed to see at this moment.

"Blue screen?!" exploded Mystica in sheer rage.

Without so much as a warning, he leaped across the car with an inhuman, almost feline gait, landing next to the sliding door. He slammed his fist against the wall and called to the outside.

"Dammit, Zahra! I told you to update the OS!"

There came the timid, albeit still defiant response.

"Hey, it's not exactly easy to program some piece of technology no one's ever seen on Earth!"

Giving a grunt of disapproval in response, Mystica returned to his routine pacing, albeit this time, he moved with a sort of heaviness in each step, and held his fists clenched in white-knuckle grip. Then, after a few rounds of pacing back and forth across the train car, he seemed to loosen. His grimace of frustration was soon replaced with his usual crooked, uncomfortable smirk.

"See, I was going to show you Griffin's uh...his "response" to my harsh words, but someone forgot to do a little IT tinkering...and, well...I guess we'll be doing this the ol' college way. Verbal."


He turned to and fro for a moment, trying to constitute himself. He had to catch the proper moment; feel the mood. When all finally seemed well in order, Mystica turned back to the view of the camera, his hands held behind his back in a formal manner.

"Oh, Griff. You almost amused me, actually. Might I recommend that, after I end your heavy-handed play at being a wrestler, you look into comedy? Because goodness, when you referred to me with the words "voodoo magic," I thought this body was one for the recycling bin. I nearly bust my sides."

He gave a weak, faux-chuckle, and wiped an absent tear from his eye. But then, as the air shifted once more, he returned to his bold-faced visage. A harsh wind rolled by outside the train car, rattling the sliding door in its track. Metallic groans bounced around the inside of the car, though Mystica seemed unfazed.

"Do you really understand what is going to happen to you, boy? You claim not to know who I am, but if you really want to know the fate that awaits you, ask anyone in this entire federation. The wise will cower at the mention of my name. The foolhardy will scoff, but nevertheless, they have come to know and respect me. Certainly they owe me that, as I have stayed my hand from them.

But you don't have to go that far, even. You know who I am. You have seen me in brief glimpses, hiding at the corner of your eye, watching from the quietest corner of the room. You have heard me in your dreams, and felt me in your nightmares. The greatest human fear is of the unknown. And if you wish to remain ignorant of me, then I shall simply become the unknown you instinctually will to the back of your imagination. And I shall grow stronger.

Believe me, boy: you are insignificant. In the grand scheme of this universe, amid the endless multitudes of celestial bodies, one man is less than an ant. You are invisible to the rest of creation. I shall do this universe a favor by wiping you from it. One rebellious ant does not an uprising make.

And thus, I shall skip to the inevitable: what I will do with that pathetic, piece of trash belt you take such pride in. When I pluck it from your breathless corpse, I think I'll destroy it. I have no desire to uphold its duties. I'm a busy man...well, not a man, but...I'm busy, and let's be honest. What I do outside of this little hobby of mine is far more important than fending off raves of mindless, starving lunatics to protect the prestige equivalent of a hubcap tied around my waist. Or hell, I'll willingly hand it over to whoever pleases me first. To anyone listening: bring me a tin of earl gray or a liter of top shelf vodka, and you win a free title.

Or just help me smash this ridiculous Johnny-come-lately's head into the concrete. That's fine, too. Save me the effort. I have limited energy in this body, and it is better put to effort on something more challenging. Perhaps, Griffin, you can take comfort in nostalgia, like you do now. But just remember: the glamour of your past is obfuscated in the fires of today. Nothing you have done matters. Nothing you will ever do matters. You...do not matter."

With that, the Old One turned for the door and marches toward it. But before he leapedout of the car, he glanced back over his shoulder at the camera, that same age-old menace dripping from the fangs of his grin.

"I will show you oblivion."



SLAM



And the dark ate away the visible world.

Achievements

• 1x Tag Team Champion
  
• August 2013 Superstar of the Month (Thank you all so much!)
  
• 1x US Champion
  
• 1x X-treme Champion