May 17th, 2007.

On a cold, desert's night, a 1988 Chevy Blazer lives up to its moniker as it caresses Interstate 10 on a long haul from El Paso to Tucsan. Radio is static, airwaves cease to exist 247 miles deep in the barren sands.

The vehicle is inhabited by two young punks, road tripping through harsh nothing in hopes of partaking in the grandest demo-derby the american west has ever set eyes upon.

However, fate would interviene and twist thier path lead to what many would consider in the Las Cruces area to be the goriest night in the towns history. The night it began.

Adam Wednesday: The temp guage is burning up Jack, wake up and look on the map. I wanna know how far we are from the next stop.

Wakes up with a groggy yawn.

Jack LeStrange: Its probably all the sand getting into the radiator.He unfurls a Rand-MacNally map and clips on the console light.Says here we getting close to a place called Las Cruces, take the next exit and go bout five miles.

There it is, hey man check it out, a diner. Im fucking starved, wanna grab a bite?

They open? Must be, sign says so.

As the blazer pulls into the parking lot, smoke billows from under the hood. Adam with his wiry, almost feminine frame and long jet black hair exits the car followed the the tall, brutish LeStrange sporting a disheveled mohawk and remnants of facepaint to faded to make out the design.

The diner was occupied by two waitresses, the owner, and a lone trucker. When they noticed the pair and their odd appearance they quickly locked the door in hopes of deterring these scourageous youth.

Did they just lock the door on us? Oh hell to tha naw.He storms up the the glass door, beating on it angrily.Its fuckin cold out her and we hungry as hell, let us in man, this shit aint right.

Have a fucking heart people, come on. It's cold as shit man, open up.

The owner draws a double barrel Marlsberg and fires it at LeStrange. A barrage or buck and glass impale and pulverize LeStrange's mass.

We don't like yer kind stranger, You get on out of here or you'll be swiss like your friend.said the owner.

Terrified, Adam scurries away, struggling to get in the Blazer as panic consumes him.

As he drives off, a harsh wind blows from the east, and the sky begins to shift to a midnight purple dotted with pale blue stars. The face of the moon shines a bright, neon-like green, illuminating anything beholding phosphorescence.

The corpse of LeStrange, began to breathe, loosing grunts with each exhale. The onlookers in the diner begin to tremble as the goliath jester starts twitching as if it were dreaming. Seconds pass and the mangled behemoth sits up and glares toward the diner patrons exclaiming"Now which one of you was kind enough to let this stranger in?"

The next morning, a local deputy arrives for his daily coffee fix, only to find vultures feasting on strewn out disemboweled torsos and limbs that appear to be torn from the joint.

After puking in horror, the deputy calls in back up after finding a note written in Vitreal fluid that read"Who let the Stranger in?"

Present day....

Trax, your lips are using letters to form words and constructing sentences, but knows not of what they speak of. You mock and jest at my lost momentum having misplace my trust yet again in a foolish peon. Tholomew Plague will recieve his dessert in due time.

You say Im a wildcard due to my unpredictable appearances and vanishings. You say Im nothing more than a joke, a fly on the proverbial pile of shit so to say. But never has anyone been more wrong. Your dream of becoming great becomes a nightmare on Warfare, you will expierence pain so unbearable, The Hellraisers themselves will shudder away at the sheer grotesque terror that will strike like a blizzard.

Mentioning grotesque. Fontanna, you appear to have transformed yourself into a bleached Lil' Wayne. Pale skin, tattoos, metal teeth, all shades of an abominable slug attempting to become what others are afraid of.

Ive got news for you Fonty, you fail. You had disillusioned yourself into being more than human. Youve built yourself up with false idealogies and misguided emotions only to fall victim to tragic self-mutilation. Look into a mirror Fontanna, stare at the reflection and tell me, do your really see the doom gestating within you. Can you really feel the juggernaut of fear bursting out the womb of your mind and cause widespread panic and despair. No, you are far from the eclipse of sanity and when I, the Devils favorite Carnie awaken the Dreadnaught that came to be all those years ago, will once and for all own the nightmares that the XWF have to offer.

Four days left Trax. Four long days Fontanna, and your minds become my Karnevil. The Stranger knocks, but is anyone home?

LeStrange wedges a ciggarette between his lips and grins as he lights it. He blows a puff of smokes towards the camera.

TBC

OOC:feedback is welcomed[/color]