Mystica continues along the path. It is a dark, long walk -- the path is covered by a thick line of trees, which seem to stand as sentinels against those who might trespass on these lands. For once, Mystica feels a bit at home despite the circumstances. Here he is, wandering into a new home, hoping for open arms, but expecting a cascade of rifles. He recalls his days of schooling -- the firing squads of the Boston Massacre, the guillotine of the Radical Era of the French Revolution... It's all history, bound to repeat itself. But he can't help but see himself as the recipient of the blade and the bullet. He is the constant target. And even now, nearing the end of the path, as he sees the light at the end of the dark forest tunnel, he cannot help but feel a bit helpless. This is the beginning, he thinks. It's all a beginning to a new era.

He steps out of the path and out into the bright sunlight, causing him a bit of discomfort as his pale skin seems to glow in the sun. He hasn't been fully outdoors in the open like this in a long, long time. Before him stands The Promise Land in all it's simplistic splendor: a grouping of lodges, a church, one larger domicile. All around the compound, men and women work with smiles on their faces, all completely at home here. This, Mystica thinks, is where the light comes from. This is glorious. This is home.

As he walks in, bare-handed in his fitted suit, he is greeted by a combination of both suspicious and welcoming looks. It is a combination that sets him a little off guard. A series of what-ifs pass through his mind. Are they kind to foreigners? Do they know why I'm here? Do they know who I am just by looking at me?

As he passes some of the buildings, he spots it: a solitary building on the edge of the compound. It is well-constructed, personally made by man's hand. Mystica gives a short smirk as he notices a single piece of plywood nailed to the front door, with a lovely "M" emblazoned in it. This shack was clearly prepped for him.

"Well, Eli, my friend," Mystica says aloud, pleased. "You certainly know how to make a bloke feel at home."

His head does a sudden, sickening turn to the side, like a physical tick took hold.

"Home is where you hand the heads of Agent Orange and Cheapshots and Nash and Duke, and--"

Mystica shakes his head violently as he approaches the shack, coming back into himself.

"Roight, stop that. It's not Wednesday yet. You don't get to come out and play until tomorrow!"

As he reaches the front door, he pauses and swings himself around to take in the view from the porch. Before him stands a beautiful settlement, and Mystica cannot help but be reminded of home. This is what home means. It is warm and safe, and welcome. This is Eli's home, and for now, Mystica's as well. With a nod, he pushes open the front door of the shack and steps inside.

The interior is sparsely arranged, with a single cot bed, a nightstand, a coat rack, and a desk pushed to the far opposite corner, just beneath the only window. Mystica grins and reaches into his coat pocket, retrieving a small notebook. This room, he thinks to himself, is perfect for getting the muse working again.

For an hour, he is left in solitude. Then, there comes a knock at the door. Sighing, Mystica rises from the desk, where he had been keenly writing away until the interruption. He quickly makes his way across the room and reels open the front door to reveal a rather young woman, looking a bit shaken.

"Oh, 'ello," Mystica says plainly, not exactly sure of who she is or why she's here.

"Morning," she replies, greeting him. "I'm Becky. I was told by Eli to come by and keep you company."

There is a brief, but excruciatingly awkward pause as Mystica stares her down blankly.

"...like a welcoming party?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in blank curiosity.

"Something like that, I think."

"Roight, then. Come in, there's...plenty of room...kind of..."

He swings the door open and beckons her inside. She quickly strolls past him and into the shack, with Mystica closing the door behind her. He makes his way back to the desk, taking a seat and looking down at his notes. Becky, meanwhile, takes a seat on the cot, carefully crossing her legs in a modest fashion.

"So what's the story 'round here?" Mystica asks as he begins to scribble some notes down. They are notes for Wednesday -- clean, clear notes on all of his potential opponents. Weaknesses, special moves, dirty tactics.

"What do you mean?" asks Becky. She seems to be shivering, but Mystica is oblivious, obviously caught up in his studies.

"I mean, what do people think of me comin' here?"

"Well...some are a bit hesitant, but for the most part, no one's really concerned."

"No? Big bad wolf comin' to blow the compound over and no one bats an eye?"

"I don't think you're quite big bad wolf material."

Mystica sighs, raising his head from his notes for a moment. She's completely right. In the last two weeks, Mystica has undergone a form of ego death. The man he once was has gone -- the prophet is dead, Mystica is buried, and the man beneath it all is reborn. David Martin turns in his chair and faces the girl, his face a mess of tired semi-awareness.

"No," he says exasperatedly. "No, I'm really not. I came here to fix myself up. I figured if someone has it figured out, it's Eli. Mr. James is a kind, wise soul. I can only hope to have some of that rub off on me. I'm nothing special."

"Everyone is special in the eyes of the Almighty," Becky assures him, offering a meek smile. "So long as they keep to his scriptures."

David gives a slight smile and spins his chair back to face the desk. Effortlessly, he slides open the right-hand drawer, revealing a thick book placed neatly in the center of the inner drawer.

"These scriptures?" he asks with a grin "King James version. Been studying."

"Anything in particular, David?"

She asks this question almost eagerly, wanting to hear from him. For a moment, Mystica is taken aback at someone using his real name. It is the name of the man he used to be, and is steadily trying to revert to. He gives a quick chuckle and turns back to Becky.

"David, Actually. I've been studying my name, biblically. See, David, before he was a king, was this great poet. Weird sort of parallel there. Mind if I share a bit of my own life with you?"

Becky gives another meek smile.

"Go right ahead, Mr. Mystica."

He seems to cringe at the mention of the name, but continues.

"See, back in Redditch...that's uh, England, by the way...I was a journalist. Worked for this magazine firm, doing interest pieces and such. People liked my columns. I got letters. I had fans. I mean, I guess I have some fans nowadays, but they're...a bit more unhinged than the ones who read my articles...but they liked what I wrote. The pen...it really can be mightier than the sword, you see. But a sword is much more likely to kill a man. You can write poison letters, but you can also tip a sword with very real poison."

"You're talking about your matches tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Quite," David replies, nodding. "There's bad things to be had tomorrow. Blood to be spilled and whatnot. And there's things in my head I can't really control. Like Jekyl and Hyde. When the monsters come out to play, then the Myst comes back to pay. I won't bow down to anyone. I won't be taken aback by a boy with his face on t-shirts, no cowering child in the dark!"

As he speaks, Mystica's head slowly turns to the side. Becky begins to see something odd in his eyes as his voice lowers in tone. The man is gone. Something else has taken hold.

"Let's see the little girl in Miss Nash cry for her mother. Let's blow out the candle and see what comes creeping out of the black. Angels and demons and some sick combination. Let's watch Eli crucify Salvator! Help him, even! Then eat the flesh off the boy's bones! Chew and gnash and swallow the blood. Let's see how Duke runs with his head lopped off! Like a chicken! Run, fowl, run! They stay alive for a bit after you bite their necks clean off! Like a toy! All in good fun!"

Becky, witnessing Mystica fall between himself and something else, has made for the door as quick as her feet can take her. As Mystica shakes off the odd feeling that came over him, he makes for the door, a look of horror upon his face. He calls after the fleeing girl.

"Wait, no! It wasn't me sayin' all that! I'm David! That's the Goliath!"

But she is long gone. Bewildered and frustrated, Mystica heads back inside, slamming the door behind him.

"Bloody hell."

"Exactly."

Achievements

• 1x Tag Team Champion
  
• August 2013 Superstar of the Month (Thank you all so much!)
  
• 1x US Champion
  
• 1x X-treme Champion