It was a dark and stormy night.
Crawling, climbing creepy things were everywhere.
We see the underside of a bridge, a lot of pop tents and homeless were everywhere.

“What the fuck are we doing here” you might be asking yourselves.


Stalking!
Or at least and attempt at stalking.


Taking a closer look at the surroundings we can tell that this is another homeless village. It is known that there are many homeless villages across the United States.
The places where the destitute and failures lay their heads.
The smell of urine was in the air mixed with a little poo-stink.
There are no bathrooms in the Under Bridge hotel so you piss next to where you sleep and shit behind those bushes over there

The bushes were disgusting with a pile of feces behind it, most of the leaf’s were pulled from the poor plant to wipe the many homeless asses that come to squat behind it. Doesn’t give much privacy anymore given the current state.

We can see many dirty people shuffling around this filthy piss-hole of an area

Suddenly there was a noise!

The sounds of rustling bushes and bottles being kicked around.
At a closer look we see the face of Morbid Angel, peeking out through a large bush nearby holding binoculars…He is looking for someone. Someone important.
He was dressed like your typical homeless man, his clothes were all tattered and filthy, his face covered in random filth he found on the ground.
For all intents and purposes, he looked homeless again…except for that damned gold watch he wears everywhere.
It was clean and the shine could blind a man in the dark.
The interviewer however was dressed in a blazer, dress shirt and holding a microphone with a camera man behind them.

Being inconspicuous was never Morbid’s strong suit

He scanned around this living hell looking for none other than ALIAS!
The man with no known name!


“Do you really think he’s here?” The interviewer said.


” Of course he’s here! Look at this place, it’s a cesspool.” Morbid replied with no hesitation.


“I don’t see him. We would have seen him by now” The interviewer said is a whisper.



Morbid exits from behind the bushes looking like he was homeless once more and starts to walk around looking in tents and checking out those laying on the ground. He is a very determined man, he wanted to find the Alias and ask him what his name is.

What would make this such an important adventure for Morbid Angel? To track down a man just to ask him his name.
Who gives a shit what his real name is.
What is there to gain if he were to find out this man’s name?
Alas, Morbid Angel isn’t one to make all the sense in the world.



After a few moments of looking around he caught the attention of a group of them and they approached him quickly. Six in total.


“Hey man, nice watch.” The leader said.


Morbid being Morbid, he ignored them and continued his search walking past them like they didn’t even exist.


“Hey! I’m talking to you boy!” The man said as he grabs Morbid’s arm aggressively.


Morbid turns and smiles as he faces the group of men that started to surround him. They noticed the watch before approaching and wanted it.
Sometimes you have to steal to survive and this was survival of the fittest. There was a watch that looked expensive and there was one man standing between them and the watch. Sadly it was Morbid Angel.


“Give me the watch!” The leader said in a demanding tone.


“Why would I do something like that?” Morbid replied with the same smile on his face.


The man started to get angry.



“Give me the fucking watch!” He said as he pulls out a knife. Not a real pocketknife but what looked like an old kitchen knife that he used for…I guess cutting things?


“I think you guys are making a huge mistake. I recommend you all go do whatever it is that you all like to do and leave me be.” Morbid gestured for them to leave to another side of the camp.


The man slashed at Morbid cutting his jacket and the five others rush in and grab Morbid Angel who let out a high-pitched scream as the men grasp for the watch.

The scene fades to black.

It picks up again outside the local park, Morbid is standing there noticeably upset and a black eye. Upon closer inspection he was also missing his watch.
Shame, it was a nice watch.
Anyway, Morbid was still hunting for Alias and got a tip that he was seen in the park.
The sun was going down and that means it’ll get dark because that’s what happens when the sun does down. Shit gets dark.

He was going to get to the bottom of all this. It’s important.

Morbid stomps through the park like a child that just had their toys taken away. Aggressively tracking the international man of mystery.



“Maybe we should call it quits. We’ve been at it all day.” The interviewer said.


“I am not a quitter! It’s important for me to know. Why is it that everyone I come across in this motherfucking federation has no name. the veil of mystery is sickening.”


He scans the ground, hastily looking for any clue.



“AH HA! I found it! It’s a clue!”


Morbid rushes over to a tree and squats down and looks at what seems to be a pile of dog shit.
The interviewer looks at Morbid with a confused look on his face.



“It looks like dog shit…” the interviewer said



“It is dog shit. Every vagrant had a fucking dog. It’s common knowledge. They use the dog to help beg for money. People have more sympathy for dogs than humans! This is HIS dog shit!” Morbid said as he reaches down and grabs a clump of what appears to be fresh dog shit and smushes it with his fingers and gives it a smell.



“Still warm…He is close by! This is fresh!” Morbid said as he tries to flick the rest of the shit to the ground.



“I don’t think Alias has a dog.” The interviewer said holding back some vomit.


“Trust me.”


“What?”



“You have to trust me. God is telling me he is this way and God would never send me in the wrong direction!” Morbid said as he wiped the feces on the interviewer’s nice jacket.
The interviewer pukes in his mouth a little bit but is forced to swallow as to not embarrass himself on camera.
Morbid walks in the direction he believes Alias is heading in.




Morbid sits in the park looking at the ground, defeated.
It was a long day and nothing could take away the pain of his great loss.
The camera zooms in and the interviewer stands there looking confused on what to do or say. What could he say?

Morbid suddenly smiles and sits upright instead of the hunching brooding posture he had moments before.
He looks at the camera and begins to speak.



“Wow, that was really unexpected. I expected you to start off with the usual dried-up insults. Calling me stupid. It was really getting too old at this point…I don’t think I started off a promo by talking about how unintelligent someone was, mostly because that is a common insult. You are obviously a man of some intelligence; you speak somewhat eloquently.”



Morbid Angel gets to his feet and dusts off his already filthy and cut up jacket.



“Thank you for acknowledging my legacy here. Not many do but I’ll take that as a compliment even though you followed it up with calling it a lie.
Tell me this, what makes it a lie? I actually defeated some of the best in the business. If were being honest, and as a man of god I’ll level with you. I did actually defeat Theo Pryce once in a rumble, I did in fact beat Azrael now three times. I did however lose to Eli James twice. I admit it. It was a hard loss for the Universal Championship. I was advised to not face him by management, but I was never one to turn down a fight. I am no coward. I have always been a man of great bravery and will face anyone no matter the cost.”



Morbid Angel pulls out his cellphone and pulls up the Promo Alias had shot days before so he could hit some bullet points.



“OK, I am confused. You NEED to retain your title because it’s your ticket to the universe? What the fuck are you talking about?
Oh, sweet baby Jesus on the cross, are you a fucking alien? If I have to face one more fucking person that thinks their a fucking Martian I’m literally going to shit my fucking pants. I’ve had about enough of these motherfucking people and their motherfucking fake ass powers from other motherfucking planets!
Let’s get this clear, human! There is no such thing as aliens! There are only us and god! And god most certainly is not an alien. If he was then why did he look so human when he sent his only begotten son to die for our sins?
I get ahead of myself here. You never actually said you were an alien. Maybe you are just a pompous ass that needs this title because the world revolves around you. Those are the only two reasons for what you said.”



Morbid begins to walk while looking at his phone, watching a little more of the promo.



“I’d like to think you are just a self-absorbed asshole that needs the attention and most definitely the money. I mean look at you. Wearing clothes straight from 1992. Gurrrl, you needs some new shit. Your clothes look like someone blew their fucking head off in them.
Some advice, I know everyone wants to be the struggling fighter that is barely scraping by making ends meet. But working for the XWF, they pay really well. Everyone here makes a minimum of five hundred thousand a year. That is a lot of dollars so this “struggle” is nothing more than a bunch of bullshit to make them seem more relatable to the fans. Our poor fans that sit in their trailers with stolen cable just to watch our programs every week.”


Morbid walking and not paying attention to where he was going, bumps into someone, he looks up to see none other than Alias!
Morbid doesn’t really recognize him because he was wearing a jacket with a hood on it. Alias looks at Morbid Angel and didn’t really recognize him either because of all the filth.
The two knew they knew each other from somewhere but couldn’t really place where it was from so instead they exchanged awkward looks for a few moments.



“God be with you.” Morbid said as he smiled.


Alias now knew that this was Morbid Angel but was not interested in getting into a brawl in the park and started walking away while rolling his eyes. Such a pity. Morbid could have asked for his name but was too involved in trash talking the man he was looking for all day.
Here they were. Morbid had found Alias but never asked the question…fucking eyesight must be bad. How could you not see and recognize Alias of all people, even if their hood was up.
Time for an eye exam perhaps.

Alias walks into the distance as Morbid proceeds to ignore him and just pays attention to his phone.



“Not buying my god business? Shame on you! I am truly a man of god! Look at this fucking cross!”


Morbid grabs a large crucifix dangling from a chain from inside his shirt and holds it out like he was going to perform an exorcism on the camera.



“This is an actual cross! I hold it in my hand for Jesus fucking Christ!...See, totally for Jesus. I just proved you wrong.”


The chain breaks and Morbid looks at the cross for a few seconds and then tosses it in a near by trashcan. No use keeping something that’s broken, even if it was just the chain…still trash.


“How dare you think I am not being honest! Shame on you! I don’t say things like that to you. Even though you look like a grunge musician that suffers from depression. I could go on about that and accuse you of shooting up heroin and fucking your cousin…But I won’t because personal attacks like that get you nowhere in life. I am a born-again Christian, the left hand of God and the only one that can speak the words and make them have true meaning. You are just one of those people that need help

…yes, you need my help. I will help you! This is what I’ll do! I will help you find the lord and change your life for the better. Everything is better when God is apart of it. Look at how happy I am.

And it has nothing to do with the money I make off of it. I am just purely a man of god living his best life.

You are right on us being out here for different reasons. I was the Xtreme Champion a few times in the past so it’s nothing new to me. Would I like to hold it again? Short answer, yes. Who doesn’t want to hold titles and have the honors be for Jesus?

You do see the final intention here; I will vanquish the evil inside of you and make you realize that you have sinned. Win, Lose or draw I will teach you the way of the lawd!”


The street was in view, Morbid and the camera crew were almost at the end of the park. Morbid was relieved slightly…he just wanted to go home and buy a new watch.
What’s the big fucking deal with him and his watch?
Watches are important! I mean, it’s to tell time…even though you can use your phone to tell time these days so watches are technically obsolete…but still they are important!


“And there is always a plan B. you just need to look at the bright side of things, you lose and you don’t have to worry about losing anymore because it’s already done. I’m not saying you’ll lose….I’m just heavily implying you’ll lose.
Better start making that plan B a reality because it is a foregone conclusion. Victory for Jesus never fails…until it does then that’s just want he wanted anyway….I mean, God wants his people to feel the highs and lows of the world. Can’t have Victory without the failure…But I’m still going to win because god is with me.
Through god anything is possible. I can do anything I want; nothing can stop me. Not even the law.
I AM ABOVE THE LAW! I follow gods law and that beats everything else because he is god!”



They get to the street where Morbid Angel parked his SUV.
The 2021 Ford Expedition was decked out in his idea of homeless camouflage. Slathered in mud and had sticks jammed into any orifice that would take them.
Probably would have worked better if it wasn’t a brand new SUV…but fuck it, it’s Morbid Angel logic.




“You want me to pay attention to what happened to you…I am sorry, I guess something gave you the idea that I care about all that.
I am interested in what your name is. How can someone take your name? I mean, that’s pretty hard to do...it’s a fucking name. Not like they took your shirt or something, you keep the name. I guess maybe you were beaten so badly and you forgot your name. I guess that’s a viable option but highly unlikely.

I guess I’ll just have to give you a name. I’m good with this though. I always choose names that work with people because “Unknown” just doesn’t work well with me. I think real names are important, not only for the fans but to have some sort of common ground with your fellow wrestlers.
I’ve always had my real name be public knowledge because I fear nothing.
I bet you have a real bitch like name…Chester maybe.
Don’t worry Chester, we can figure out one that’s a little better.

Byron! Yes, that’s what I’ll call you. Byron.”



The group pile into the vehicle. The camera still fixed on Morbid Angel, he turns it on and the sounds of hallelujah blasts through the speakers.

Who listens to this shit outside of church?

Maybe it was for effect…who knows.
He quickly turns down the music so it could be softly heard in the background as Morbid starts to drive.



“Byron, it’s shows a complete lack of imagination when you list “Unknown” as your name, hometown and birthdate. I mean, do I look like I’m from St Petersburg? HA! I’m actually from a small town called Gorbunki. People never heard of it so I just say St Petersburg.
See how that works? It’s very simple to be simple and yet relatable unless that’s your thing. To be unrelatable to others and just bask in the glory of being a never-ending mystery.
Out of all the languages you are proficient in, Russian isn’t one of them but fucking Swahili is? What kind of fool are you? I mean, I see Greek, even though it is pointless. Russia is a major country not motherfucking Greece. But I guess this all adds to how intelligent you are, right? You have such a big brain that you just have to speak all the easy languages. Spanish…HA! I bet you’re a fucking American. No, I guess you wouldn’t be because I said something about it. Perhaps you are Jewish…Nah, that’s not a country…Jewland, maybe but definitely not a country…Are you? Seriously level with me, I am interested.”




The camera pans away as the scene fades to a Blood Red.