The reaper walks alone.

Cain wouldn't admit it, but the silence of Cyren had put him in a spot. As he sat there brooding, he could feel it deep inside. His blood was boiling like lava and rising to the top of his skull. The truth now is that he is wondering if Gilmour and Dim are the real enemies here. After all, a wise man once said "your friends want you to succeed."

Cain knew this and he also knew that due to his absence Cyren wasn't a friend. He was a nuisance. He was a hinderance. Even if he did lose, he went on to get a title shot.

But it was embarassing. Bullshit really. He held the white pawn between his thumb and forefinger, staring vacant at the chessboard. His was the first move. He loved this game, having played it when it was first introduced. This was the "Game of Kings". If anyone was born to play it? Cain was. He was a King but no one knew it yet, being that he hadn't reached his full potential.

Not yet. No. He'd bided his time and learned from the greats of this sport. In the end he learned that he was born to do it. No, he wasn't running around with Donald Trump and preaching about deportation and Muslims.

He'd killed plenty of Muslims in the Holy Wars. No need to beat a dead horse.

Xerces sat across from Cain and watched him as the big man seemed lost in thought. He piped up. "Mister Cain?"

His eyes slowly wandered up to the bright young boy before him. "Yeah?"

"You do know it's your move, right? Why are you so hesitant?"

Why was he so hesitant? Was he losing his confidence? His brow furrowed and he moved the third pawn across forward two spaces. He shook his head. Maybe a rookie mistake, but his mind was elsewhere. It was a one versus all situation to be honest. Him versus The Killers. Or were they really The Killers? Was that Poppa Feder and Unknown Soldier? Their recent claims had confused the God of Death.

Peter Gilmour Said:Unknown Soldier and Poppa Feder aka THE KILLERS.

Dimallisher Said:That's why they call us The Killers!

"....pft."

Xerces frowns at Cain. The man hadn't really ever told him what he was thinking. But the young man was just dying to know, seeing as he'd grown fond of living with the God of Death. He felt more like a guest than a captor. Cain had made him feel accepted, and protected. That's why he cared. "What crawled up your ass and died anyway?"

Cain studied the boy for a moment and narrowed his eyes. He normally only heard that phrase used when someone passed gas and it smelled bad. Naturally curiosity struck him. "Huh?"

"You know. Who pissed in your corn flakes?" the boy said, using a phrase he'd heard Cain mutter to Delilah when she was on her monthly. Trust me, she could be a bitch on her monthly. Even Cain came just short of fearing her.

Cain knew exactly what was bothering him but he wasn't one to vocalize his problems very often. Reason being was that he had learned a long time ago that you don't trust anyone. He especially didn't trust the son of his most hated enemy. Even if he had shown the boy sympathy, that would be unheard of. As far as he knew, those times Xerces was watching him were times when the boy was looking for a place to jab the knife.

Ask Julius Caesar what that's like. You can't, but you can imagine that it isn't so plesant. After a long and awkward silence, Cain changed the subject. "Is my coffee ready, kid?"

Xerces shook his head. He was learning to read the God of Death like a book, like some crazy fan boy who studied the King of Killer's every move. Cain was his favorite wrestler, after all. Not Peter Gilmour, not Austin Fernando, and dammed sure not his cruel, close minded father.

He stood up and made his way over to the black and grey marble counter, seeing the Black and Decker coffee pot steaming. The carafe was nearly full of the thin, dark liquid by now. He looked back at Cain. "Yessir. Where are your mugs?"

"There." replied Cain as he pointed to the mahogany cabinet above the stainless steel sink.

This house was set up as if it were home, as were all the houses he'd bought in the cities he'd wrestled in. Champion or not, he was loaded.

He steeples his fingers before him and mulled over Dim's words as Xerces fixed his coffee. Two creams, three sugars. He'd told him this before. A natural born leader and father figure he was, and you could see that in his actions with the boy. He'd actually taken the kid under his wing.

Truth is, Cain was proud of his daughter. But he never had a son. He never had an heir. He thought back to the many things said during this war of words with Gilmour and Dim after accepting the steaming cup of coffee.

Dimallisher Said:Were only hourssss away fromm w-winning the gold, me and Peter. We are The Killer...ssss! Cain is a Goddamn . I heard all that shit he was sayin' out there. He tried to say that I'm tryin' to leave Peter out of my meetin' with Trump.

"Let me get this straight. He thinks this match is for the Tag Team gold? He has no sense of time, apparently. Snow Job is damned near a week away, and he and Peter and hours away from winning the gold?" He thought to himself with a smirk.

He felt Xerces eyes upon him, and annoyance rose in his voice. "What?"

"Ummm...hot cocoa? You got any?" Xerces gathered the courage to ask.

Cain smirked once again, proud that the kid actually grew a spine. A week ago, he barely spoke to Cain. Still, Cain shook his head. "Eh...drink coffee. We don't have any cocoa around here."

"Hrmf..." Cain thought. "...I almost felt like Dim there for a minute. We all know that he doesn't like anything brown. I think I know why. Maybe it's because they are mostly superior athletes. Nah. That could be a stereotype. Besides, aren't I a superior athlete to them?"

He shrugged his shoulders. Xerces sat down with his coffee, staring at Cain. It was as if his captor was having a conversation with himself. He had a feeling that he knew what it was about. He flinched as the hot, bitter drink touched his soft pink tongue and asked Cain. "Are you worried?"

"Hrm? About what?"

"You know. Your match with Gilmour and Pryce. Or..."the Professor of Insanety". Stupid name, really. But I ask myself why you would be worried?"

"...." he growled. For this child to actually suggest that he was "worried" about those two morons was insulting.

Xerces held his hands up before Cain as he saw the man's eyes flash. "Whoa whoa whoa big guy, I'm just trying to pick your brain. You look like you're either worried or just in deep thought."

"Lost in thought."

"Come on. Spill the beans, Cain!"

"This kid's got guts, I'll give him that." Thought Cain. "Probably gets it from Morbid. He always was a legitimately bad son of a bitch. Heh. Makes me want to defend my Hart Title against him after I beat Gilmour for it." His eyes went wide! "Title versus title unification match!"

He snapped out of his daydream to answer Xerces as he calmed himself down. "No. You know what it is Xerces? Fact is, I know that I will win this match. Hell, Cyren won't even be a factor in this contest. The problem here is that I am conflicted. If I win, my worthless partner and I get a shot at Tag Team Gold..."

"...yeah yeah..true true..."

"...yet if I lose, I get Peter Gilmour and a mystery opponent. Triple threat for the Hart Championship. Ya know? So what am I to do? Those tag titles are nice and I know that I will beat "The Killers B Team", but then again I don't play well with others. Cyren has beyond pissed me off."

"Not to mention that fact that this dumb son of a bitch called my out for saying "Believe That". Now how many times in the history of pop culture has that line been used? Seriously?"

Xerces grinned and sipped his coffee, the boy's eyes becoming saucer like as the caffeine infiltrated his system. "Narutosaysbelieveit!"

Cain looked at Xerces, confused. "What the hell did you just call me?"

"Nothingsirjustbringingupapoint!" said the child as he rocked back and forth in his seat.

Cain knew he'd made a mistake and implored the child. "Slow down, kid! I can't even follow you right now!"

Xerces blinked and tried to slow himself down, his excitement heightened by the fact that he too believed Cain could single handedly destroy Dim and Gilmour. "...well...y-y-you can't l-l-let their stupidity rub off on y-y-you. Y-y-ou..." Xerces twitched and knocked the coffee cup over on the table, knocking over the chess pieces on the board in a flood of coffee."-OH SHIT! IAMSOSORRYCAIN!"

"What have I done?" Cain asked himself as he facepalmed. He watched the boy clean up the coffee as best he could, Xerces noticeably shaking. Cain's face twisted upwards into a sick smile and thought. "Maybe I should send him back to Angel like this?"

He shook his head. "NO. He is just another chess piece."

"All my chess pieces are in place. I can see it in this boy's eyes, he needs a father figure. It may even eat at Angel that I have provided that for him, his own son." Cain continued thinking, slightly amused by the boy's frantic cleaning. He wondered who he got this from.

His mind wandered back to Peter and Dim. Millions of thoughts. Then it occurred to him. Here he was, with a "son" and a daughter. His career? Primed and ready to take off, whether it be the Tag Team or Hart Titles. He could always CHOOSE a new partner. He KNEW he could beat those idiots single handedly. He was the Beast of the XWF.

He finished his coffee and looked at Xerces. "You don't look so energetic now."

It was true. Xerces stood there, slumping his shoulders. He had crashed after ten minutes, this being his first time drinking coffee.

Cain smirked and issued his order. "Go to bed, kid."

"Yessir Mister Cain."

Cain shook his head and waved a finger. "Just call me "dad", Xerces. Remember, I accept you for what you are."

He could see the child's eyes welling up with tears, and he knew he had the desired effect. This pawn in his war could become a true weapon of destruction.

He was the King. The TRUE King.

At Wednesday Warfare, he intended to destroy the Killers, single handedly. His expression brightened as his choice of partners came to mind. He knew that to all watching, it would be a doozy.

Oh yes.

He steepled his fingers before him, evil grin never fading not once.

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