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Crucifix · (02-20-2017)

------- January 9th, 2005 -------

The scene opens to a dark hallway. There seems to be nothing there, but little does anyone know ... their worst nightmare is living right under their noses. There is a long creaking noise at the end of the hallway, and then a hushed whisper. A man and his wife are at this end, in the living room. The husband has a military knife in his hand, his wife is armed with a cane. Time goes by without a sound, then there is a scream. The husband springs to his feet, rushing up the stairs. All he can hear is the screams, the blood curdling cries of a child. He makes his way to the room of his youngest son. He flickers on the lights to see his son in his bed. Tears fall down the cheek of his son, who has turned away from the door.

There is a man in the corner, father. There is a man in the corner, and he is dying.

The father entered the room, staring at the man in the corner. He could see three bullet holes, one in the man's chest, one in his leg, and one in his face. The father kneels down beside the man, checking him for any other wounds. He looked over to his son. There is a pistol at his son's side, still steaming from the shooting. The father looks up at the man, who is no longer breathing. He stares at his son one more time before leaving the room to call the police.

The son creeps over to the man and places a hand on his face. He is wearing a steel mask, now stained with his crimson blood. The son pulls the mask from his face, revealing the bloodied face of the man he had killed. There was a long cut across the man's forehead, sloppily stitched back together with floss. The son looked down at the mask, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

I think I'm going to like doing this.

The boy could hear his father's footsteps, so he slid the mask under his bed. He stood up and wiped the blood on his hands down the side of his pants. His father entered the room to check up on him and to his surprise, his son was smiling.

---------- Present day ----------

They ask me if I regret what I did, all those years ago. I can honestly tell them that I do not. I may have been a pip-squeak punk from Charlotte, but someone broke into my house and threatened my family. The bastard had it coming, and with his kill I realized how fun it is to collect souvenirs from my victims. There was this little Mexican fucker in a company I used to wrestle in that would always challenge me to a fight, and when he finally got his chance, I drove my knife into his gut again and again, leaving him in a pile on the floor. He was out of action for almost an entire year, and the whole time he was out I would wear his mask down to the ring, just to insult him. When he returned, I ended his career in a matter of minutes.

Now that I think about it, this must be how Oswald Sephtis feels. I broke into this federation and threatened his friends, making sure everyone understood that at the end of the day, I would be the one standing tall with my head held high as the king of XWF! I told Oswald Sephtis that I would use him to get ahead in this company, and he acted like he didn't believe me. He acted like he didn't think I could make it to the top of this company and for that, I will make him my personal bitch! I am not here to make friends, Oswald. I am here to get championships and make money. You might want me dead for invading your company, but I want you dead because you don't believe in me and the kingdom that I am building. You will fall, just like the intruder in my house when I was a child. You will be dead, and no one will care about you. No one will want to talk to the man who thinks acting like a little child will get him to the top of a company. You do not win championships by "deleting" people, you

oaf. You win championships by fighting day in and day out, caring not of bodily harm. To win a championship, you need to throw caution to the wind, and stop giving a shit about what people think of you. If you want to win your Hart Championship again, Oswald, you will need to fight me ... and I don't mean in some stupid tag team match. I wanted to fight you one on one, not be the pawn in some grand scheme of yours. I will not stop asking for a one on one shot at you until it is granted to me, and you better believe I will rip you limb from limb when the time comes!

As for the other people in our match ... I don't care about you. My partner's

, and Shade seems to have just had her last lesson in kindergarten. When we are done with our match, I wish to wear the mask of Shade, and that interesting jacket of yours, Sephtis. I'll see you boys on Warfare.

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