After a meeting with Heiman that was in all honesty a front to kill his chief security officer, Luca and Renee get spotted by Heiman's men while driving back to the compound. After evading them for a few minutes, they came to a dead end. The only way out was to drive off a small ramp into the woods below. After doing so, the car crashes into a tree, knocking both of them unconscious.





The claustrophobic walls of the basement strangle the air out of the room as those who are in there struggle to breathe. A single lightbulb flickers and burns out, plunging the room into total darkness.

"Fucking perfect! Why are we even down here?"

"Be-"

"I know why we're down here dammit!"

"Guys, arguing won't help us at all!"

Every one turns their heads and looks over where they assume Lenny is, and in unison shout:

"Shut up, Lenny!"

"Jeez, just trying to help..."

A flashlight flickers on, the light shining in Luca's face. Covering his face to block the blinding light, he stands up. Clearing his throat once, he subliminally tells the rest of the group that he's about tell his idea.

"Guys, we're missing the bigger picture here! We're all criminals! Crime is a billion dollar industry, we just need to get into some of that money, then we can finance a war with Heiman!"

"Genius plan Luca, how are we going to get some of that money?"

"Maybe if you listen instead of being an overtly sarcastic douchecunt, I would've already told you! We're going into the manufacture and sale of narcotics."

"Like what, marijuana?"

"Did you even hear me? We're dangerous criminals, not hippie-stoner jagoffs!"

"Cocaine?"

"How are we going to get a poppy field in New York?"

"Thank you Mero, do you know what I'm planning?"

"$50 says meth."

This time, no one responds. Luca fishes through his pocket and tosses something into Jared's hand. He then goes back upstairs while Lenny, the one with the flashlight shines it on the item.

A fifty dollar bill...






A phone vibrates in the pocket of a pair of black dress pants. Pulling the phone out is a single hand. The name that matches the number who's calling is a mess of mismatched numbers and letters. A finger pushes the answer button, then puts it on speaker.

A gruff, angry voice bursts through the phone's speaker, disturbing the silence in the room.

Unknown Caller: "Where the fuck are you? I hope you understand how urgent of a matter this is. We need for you to tell us just who we're looking for! God dammit, are you there?!"

Answering the caller is a voice masked behind a voice changing device.

Unknown Responder: "Calm down! I'm here, of course I'm here! How else would the phone be answered? Trust me, you'll know them when you see them."

"How about you tell me what they're going to do, can you do that?

"Hey hey hey asshole! You're the fucking fed! You can find out for yourself!"

"Or I could just run you in for your crimes instead!"

"Fuck, message received!"

"Tell me about them. NOW!"

"There isn't much to tell about them. They're just a bunch of idiots who got themselves into too much shit."

"Are they dangerous?"

"No, not at all. Hold on, I'm getting another call."

The finger pushes a button, and the agent is on hold. Immediately after, a familiar voice comes through the speaker.

"Hey, ! Where are you?"

Cursing under his breath, the man behind the second voice adjusts the voice altering device and clears his throat.

"Calm down Renee, I went out. No big deal."

"Yeah, but-"

The finger ends the call and goes back to the first.

"Sorry, someone had the wrong number or something. Where were we?"

"Their names, Mr. Arzegotti! What are their names?"



"This Saturday, I'm right where I belong once more. The main event, carrying the deadweight of some washed up loser on my back. On the road to redemption, where I can start by once again gaining the X-Treme Title from one of my two opponents.

Alas, I can't start with the competition, can I? I mean I could start with Ann Thraxx, because she won't be any competition in the fucking slightest. However, I have something to say about Mr. Charlotte.

Scott, where do I begin? Oh, I know, like this!

Scott, you should've stayed retired, there's nothing left in this business for you anymore. The fact that you're coming back is actually pretty fucking sad, if I may be honest. You're oh so obviously past your prime, and I guarantee that you'll be nothing but a bunch of dead fucking weight and I'm going to have to carry it all the way to a victory. All that said, we are partners, so I'll just stop now. See you out there, partner.

Annie, get real. You're deluded, thinking that you belong anywhere near a match with after you managed to lose to the waste of space who's so bland that even the company he called the 'E decided to drop his bitch ass like the bad habit he has of thinking he's important. But enough of your ex-boyfriend as it would seem, onto you. You're hateful, a cold hearted bitch? Are you so naïve that you believe your own bullshit? Come on, face me! I'll make sure you'll regret it mere seconds after you even look at me the wrong way! Need I explain further?

Fuck it, you're better off not even showing up to this match. Soldier could do better with a one armed teddy bear than you.

Speaking of Soldier, I have to ask...

How are you liking being the X-Treme Champion?

Is it getting you enough ass?

I only ask because you won't have it for much longer. Oh, is that a shock? Are you shaking in your boots because I don't fear you?

Deal with it.

Hide behind SATAN! while you fade in and out of conscious thought and your vivid fantasies of murder and mutilation. SATAN! gives you your wet dreams that only disappoint you when you wake up and realize that that's all it is.

A dream.

Wake up Soldier...

The clock is ticking.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Count the seconds, savor every fucking moment from now until the 8th of June.

Because the dream is coming to an end, and you'll go right back to the damn nightmare that's called reality.

Tick.

Fucking.

Tock."