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Cain · **04-26-2015, 06:11 PM**

The other night I had a dream. It was a glorious dream. This was the kind of dream that you didn't want to wake up from, because it was that good. Like when a thirteen year old boy dreams of fucking Selena Gomez in the ass with his Wiimote or vice versa if he's gay.

Only, in this dream, I was straight as an arrow as is in real life. While Sebastian doesn't know the meaning of words, I know them. His "promo", if you want to call me that had put me to sleep. Surely he would understand my reasoning if I told him. After all, his first defense when faced with me was "oh I was bored".

However, I am getting off track. As I sit here and recall this dream of mine, I see a vast expanse of wild lands. Small patches of brownish green grass littered the landscape. The trees were almost barren. Wilderbeasts galloped along the horizon, and I watched as a big, older lion tackled one down and tore into it's flesh. He ripped it apart as if the wilderbeast were nothing. He tore the young beast from limb to limb.

Now, in my dream there was a bit of real life. No, not poachers. No, not hunters or tribesmen. Of course I am speaking of the storm brewing on the horizon. Dark clouds blotting out the sun like an eclipse. Animals run into hiding as rain pelts the barren wasteland. Thunder shakes the ground.

Two glowing red orbs penetrate the black clouds, moving up and down, swaying back and forth. The brave old lion looks up from his meal, maw covered in sticky red blood. It goes back to eating when out of the darkness flies the serpentine dragon, it's scales pitch black.

The clouds were it's smoke. The thunder was it's roar. This dragon devoured the old lion without any struggle whatsoever because it was young. It was strong. The dragon was a true king of the beasts.

It was then, as I woke up next to my latest victim, that I realized. That lion? It was Duke. That dragon? It was me. I am a creature of epic and mythical legend, just as Duke was when he first started his career. But he has grown weak whether he chooses to admit it or not. I can see him slowing down. The narcolepsy of senility is taking over as he fell asleep during my last segment.

He's stating boredom not because of actual Boredoms but because of the waking nightmare he now faces. His dreams of covering his brother with maple syrup and licking it off are a far cry from the reality of the situation that he faces. Surely they all saw how he tried to kill himself.

He'd rather die than face me.

How adorable.

You see, this kind of thing happens in our sport every few years. It really all started with men like Bruno Sammartino. Andre the Giant. Of course along came men like Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage followed by men like Austin and The Rock. Then the John Cenas. Then the Daniel Bryans and Roman Reigns.

It was Sebastian Duke. It will be Cain Arkham. He doesn't know it yet, but his title is in jeopardy but so is his throne. He talks about he he is so ashamed of how it was his decision to allow me into his Brotherhood of Darkness. He talked about how it was his mistake.

It was.

It wasn't a mistake from lack of skills, but his lack of judgement. I am a beast. A predator. Predators stalk their prey and study it, and right now Duke is my prey. Of course I wanted to be a member of the Brotherhood after he had beaten me. I wanted to learn his mannerisms and his secrets. I have the information I need.

Yet, Duke chooses foolishly once again. He's chosen the path of the old veteran who is already raising his arms into the air like he's already beaten me. He's actually thinking this dragon will be easy to slay because when I was weak, he beat me once before.

"Ahhh none fears Cain."

They should. They really should. I've had a whole year to become this powerful. Predators evolve and I can say this, being one myself. That old lion doesn't seem to realize that this young dragon has nothing to lose anymore. This young dragon is hungry and the blood of Duke would taste SO good to him right now.

Who gives a fuck about his dead son? Hell, I don't. I'm glad the little fucker died. Duke deserved it. Duke became this mythical figure that everyone fears! Right? No. Wrong.

Cain Arkham doesn't fear him.

Cain Arkham will defeat him and Duke won't be passing him the torch. Come Wednesday night? Cain Arkham takes the torch bearing the King of Darkness' flame and he relights it with the glorious black flames which engulf his own soul.

I will shine and I will take home the Intercontinental Title.

"You've been quiet this entire time." Says the young stage hand who sits next to me, going over his notes.

I turn to look at him. "I'm thinking."

He nodded his head, and went back to scribbling on his clipboard, taking notes. He continued his conversation with Cain. "I'm assuming you're thinking about killing me, aren't you?"

Well, yes. But no. Right now I knew that I needed to save my energy for Duke. "No. Not really. Honestly, you'd be a waste of my precious energy."

"True. Duke is not a pushover. You know that from personal experience. Oh, my name is Neil, by the way..." He offered me his hand with a stupid smile.

I started to wonder if this guy realized exactly who he was talking to. Furthermore, just who the hell did he think he was? Whether I wanted to waste my energy or not, I could still kill him. Of course something Duke said got to me.

I knew he could see the thoughtful look in my eyes, because Duke had said the reason I'd failed so often was the constant attempts at reinvention. The sad thing about it was, deep down as much as I couldn't stand him, I knew he was right. The veteran wrestler had knowledge. There was a reason he was nine and one upon his return.

"There's no shame in shaking a mere mortal's hand, Cain."

"Yeah, but you see, I'm all out of hand sanitizer."

I always hated these humans. No telling where their filthy hands had been.

"So the mighty Cain is a germophobe? The man who has had so much blood on his hands is afraid of a little human contact?"

I felt my lips curl in a sneer. "Don't hit on me,

. I don't swing that way."

"What? Wait...no...I..."

"...you want my cock. I get it. But you can't have it, Bill..."

"...it's Neil, sir. Why don't you lighten up a bit? Eat a Snickers."

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering if Oaktree had signed a new endorsement deal.

"You heard me. Eat a Snickers. You're all germophoby when you're hungry."

"Dude, what the fuck? That isn't even a word."

"Well, it's in the script, Cain."

"What script? Who's writing this shit? Vince Russo?"

"No, I think it's Oaktree. Nonetheless, eat the Snickers bar Cain "

"Fuck no! I hate Snickers."

Neil just sat there, looking toward the camera then me, making cutthroat motions toward me. "Cain! Cut that shit out, we're trying to sell candy bars!"

".....no. We're not. We're trying to put me over as the next Intercontinental Champion."

"Okay...well...you gotta please the sponsors. So yeah...talk about Snickers."

"Okay. Fine. What do a Snickers bar and Duke's late wife have in common?"

Honestly? I knew the joke would be in bad taste. I knew it was an all around bad joke. Neil, he was afraid of the answer. Against his own better judgement, he asked me.

"What?"

"Both are covered in chocolate, and full of nuts. Lots of nuts. Men's nuts. Black men's nuts."

Crickets.

"That wasn't funny. Didn't even make sense, Cain."

Allow me to enlighten you all right now that I am not a comedian. I am not a man who gets by on making disses toward my opponents. I save that for those who "kid around". Keyword? "Kid". But when I looked at Neil and said this next line, I wasn't kidding in the least. "Exactly. It won't be funny when I whip Duke's geriatric ass either."

Simple as that.

-Static-

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