We appear before a vast, yet empty parking lot in Colorado. The night sky finds itself unable to penetrate the streetlight's defenses. The area remains hushed in these late hours, with not a peep being uttered for what feels like the longest time.
Suddenly, an electric crack can be heard ringing through the skies. It starts softly at first, barely making its presence known from the wind. Soon enough, however, it gets as loud as a gunshot enclosed within a room. Just then, with a blinding flash of white light, an ornate and shiny machine that appeared to have leaped straight from H.G. Wells's Time Machine drifts its way into the middle of the lot.
The pilot of the machine appears slumped over on the control panel, apparently knocked out by some unknown assailants before departing. The unknown passenger groans and rubs the back of his bandaged head before looking up at the surroundings before him. His red iris is on full display as it darts around the asphalt desert, narrowing slightly to adjust to the bright lights before it.
"Well, at least it works."
The strange, mummified entity pushes himself off the time machine and begins to walk in a random direction.
"The only thing left to figure out now is where I've been sent. How am I supposed to know that Benjamin's machine sent me to the right period?"
Just then, he spots two young bloods standing under a streetlight, who have been slowly creeping up on him ever since his arrival in the lot.
"Perhaps they could help."
The man approaches the duo, who appear to be slightly uneasy around him. In their hands appear to be beer bottles that are just about empty save for an additional swig or two. Within a few steps distance, the bandaged individual stops his movement and stands before the two, who now look like they'll take any opportunity to run away.
"Pardon me, gentlemen, do you perhaps know what year it could be?"
No response from either of the two. The unidentifiable one clears his throat before trying again.
"My apologies, I have neglected to introduce myself. My name is Jack. Don't fret over my appearance. I wear the bandages so I don't-"
Before he could finish his introduction, the two kids run away screaming in hysterics, leaving the now named Jack by himself. He takes a deep breath and sighs in resignation.
"I see things aren't as different as they are in my time. At least they have that much going for it.
Ear piercing static rings through the air as the bandaged gentleman turns towards and walks back to the machine. Once there, he detaches a circular piece from the machine that looks slightly different from the common phone speaker, as it's not attached to a receiver and the communication is at a one way interval. Jack lifts the speaker to his ear and gets ready to listen to his objective.
"Jack, if you're able to hear this message, that means you've arrived at the correct destination at the right time. Thank the divine if that's the case."
He rolls his visible eye.
"Listen, I'm sorry that I had to render you unconscious in order to send you through time, but you were the only one that was capable of preventing the demise of our world and I couldn't take any chances of a disagreement. I need you to find out what will cause our world to end and stop it before its too late."
"I appreciate the positivism, but how does he expect me to figure out what the source of doom is?"
"If you're wondering where the source of our impending doom is, I've managed to track it down to a sort of wrestling troupe in America. I know it isn't much, but that's the most helpful info I can give to you."
Jack sighs again. He hangs the device back onto its slot and begins to walk away from the time machine. The mummified man says nothing, knowing that he has a long journey ahead of him, and he'll need to do whatever it takes so he can accomplish his mission.
"Nathan Kennedy, a name that fully suits a kid who doesn't know what kind of madness he's getting himself into. There's a fire within you, I can tell, but that passion could prove fatal if left unchecked. This is why you have Mr. Osborne with you, is it not? To keep your hubris in check before the inevitable fall from grace?"
"I would imagine that's why he's with you, anyhow. Otherwise he's just another rich businessman looking for a self made orphan to exploit and earn more money from. It's depressing, really, knowing all you'll amount to is a few pitiable donation dollars should wrestling not be the career for you."
"You cannot be blamed for fleeing from your family, considering their attitude and known psychological troubles. The damage you've left behind, however, is impossible to ignore. Your father might not have been the most capable or loving parent, but imagine the suffering you've brought to Caleb now that you've left. If you thought the verbal abuse he gave you on a near daily basis was bad, the scars left on him would be much worse."
"But you don't care about that, do you? No, of course not. If you really cared, you would've found a way to take him with you, or have your manager find a way to free him from your father's clutches. In the end, you left him there to rot while you earn cold hard cash in this business. Despicable."
"There's time enough yet for you to think over your actions. I'll give you until we meet in that ring to think your actions over. Hopefully you'll realize the mistakes you've made and try to remedy them. I'll see you in the squared circle. Prove to me then that you're strong enough to save your family from the abuse they suffer."
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