It's never good when you wake up in a strange, unfamiliar location with a limited memory of what happened the night before. Having a splitting headache due to a monster hangover, does not add anything good to this scenario either. These are the facts that I know currently, without opening my eyes. I'm laying on what feels like a sofa; cheap but comfortable, I smell the distinct, lingering odor of pot and I have all of my clothes on. Which is a definite plus. I also realize that I need to rise, despite the fact that I don't particularly want to move.


With a groan and my eyes still shut, I reach up and use the back of the couch to pull myself up into a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, I swing my legs around and place my feet on the floor. My head dips forward a tad as I lift my hand up to my face and proceed to wipe the sleep away from my eyes. Pretty sure I'm going to be sick. Not yet but it's definitely coming. Slowly, I open my eyes as my hand gradually swipes downward on my face, lingering somewhere near my chin. I then raise my focus from the floor and see...





"Oh shit!"


That exclamation is an overreaction on my part. I just didn't expect to see... Brian Storm, standing there. Like right there, destined to be the first thing that I see, when I woke up. And yes, my first thoughts weren't good ones. Not by a long shot. They pertained more towards wondering if he had been simply standing there, staring at me as I slept. Looming, for who knows, how long? Then, I notice he has two cups of coffee and logic returns to me as I realize, he must have approached while I was in the process of peeling myself up from the sofa.


That understanding, allows me a sigh in relief. Along with that small comfort, some of the fog from the previous night is lifted. My location, while still somewhat foreign to me, isn't totally an unknown area. I was in Brian's "man cave". I must've ended up crashing here after consuming an abundant supply of whiskey. That wasn't an event that was planned but I suppose I could have woken up in worse spots. Brian extends a cup towards me and I reach upward, accepting his generous offer with a nod, given in gratitude.


"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."


He chuckles and plops down into a green plaid, easy chair to my left.


"It's quite alright. That was a bit of an overreaction on my part. Your timing with coffee, while greatly appreciated was also rather unfortunate."


As I take a sip of the steamy libation, Brian releases another hearty laugh.


"Thought I was just standing there, watching you sleep like some kind of creep?"


"Kinda... yeah."


My honesty is reluctant but still given, with a slight, small, half-sort of smile. At this point, my eyes seem to have chosen that there is far too much light in this room and settle on a squint.


"Well then I guess I'm lucky you didn't react the way that I woulda."


"What would you have done?"


"Pull a weapon and ask questions later."


"Nice."


Softly snickering, I take another sip of coffee.


"I should have gathered as much."


This is when Brian retrieves a bowl from his pocket, places it on the small wooden table that exists in front of us and begins breaking up some weed on a magazine. Chronic that he then swiftly stuffs into the bowl he set down. Now I know where the scent of reefer came from. He must have had himself a bit of a wake n' bake. An excellent idea after a night of drinkin' due to it being the perfect cure for hangovers. At least, from my personal experience. Before I can even request him to send the bowl my way after he hits it, Brian presents it to me.


"Here you go. Figured you might need this."


No sooner does he say this though, he pulls the bowl back and hesitates.


"Wait. Do you smoke? Sorry, I don't want to make assumptions based on my own preferences and wind up offending ya, in the process."


"Yes. Not as of late... so much, but yeah, I do. I mean, I will now, if you're offering. Thank you."


A smile and a nod, Brian passes the bowl. Fetching a lighter from my pocket, I ignite the green goodness and take a hit. When I go to return the bowl to Brian, he shakes his head - no, and holds his hand up.


"Take another hit."


The man didn't need to twist my arm, exhaling a cloud of smoke accompanied with a dry cough, I take another hit. Promptly passing the bowl back to Brian. This time he accepts and follows suit.


"You said you stopped smoking?"


He coughs, exuding smoke.


"Why's that?"


There isn't a reason for me not to be candid or frank in my response. So I reply honestly.


"Because my mother escaped a sanitarium and I thought she might be coming after me for revenge."


Pause. Then a bitter laugh at the thought of how mad that must sound, to an outsider. Still, I continue.


"After that, my wife died."


Settling into the sofa, I rest my head back and leisurely expel smoke into the air. Attention fully focused on the smoke as it billows and twirls.


"Haven't really felt much like myself these days. Ever since my wife passed, I've sort of been... numb to it all. Moving through the motions, day to day, not really feeling much of anything. Some days it all seems so fucking pointless. Yet I trudge onward and pretend that nothing is wrong. Because I have to... I need to, I have a son that relies on me and on top of that, what else is there for me to do? Commit suicide?"


"Please. I might be deadened to the world, but I am not a pathetic, miserable wretch that believes that kind of solution will solve anything. Even in this state, I know that's the coward's way out. An answer that causes more problems than it's worth. So I sully forth and continue on this meaningless journey. Staying alive! It's literally just... staying. Alive."


I tilt my head towards Brian and flash a quick grin.


"Bet you couldn't tell that about me."


"No. You always seem to be in a pretty good mood."


"Ha! That's a super power of mine. Maintaining the act, no matter what. Nobody does it better... nobody."


"Damn. You know, you don't have to keep stuff bottled up. I mean, I'm aware that we don't know each other, all that well but I'd like to think of you as a friend. I'm here, if you need an ear."


His words are kind. Genuine. But that doesn't stop them from provoking a short burst of laughter. It comes out rancorous
and bittersweet; however, it isn't my purposeful intention to dismiss him in this fashion. I simply couldn't stop myself. No. That was all the opening up and honesty that I was willing to commit towards. Today is not the day that I remove my mask. Even if I allowed it to slip a little, for the most part, it shall remain firmly in place.


"That's alright, Brian. I'm good. Thank you though."


And there it is. The eyes... windows to the soul, revealing it all. Immense empathy and concern practically radiate forth. I do not want this. Firing up a cigarette, I decide right then and there, that it's time for a subject change. An action that I put into effect, post haste.


"So tell me, Brian..."


Smoke meticulously drifts upward from my mouth as I reposition my head, in such a way, that it allows my sights to remain fixated on the ceiling. I can already feel my hangover fading.


"When do we get to shoot guns?"


Even though Brian isn't in my direct line of sight, I can sense his instant enthusiasm. Which makes me smirk as I fan the metaphorical flames of this growing fire.


"I said... when do we get to shoot some fucking guns?!?!"


"Uh... right now."


Upon hearing him stand, I pop up from the sofa where I am greeted by a very pleased looking, Brian Storm. The man likes his guns, as might be expected, he's happy. I mirror this emotion by raising my eyebrows to exhibit a similar excitement.


"Excellent. Lead the way."


And that... ladies and gents, is what's called redirection. Now, if you'll excuse me... I'm going to shoot some fuckin' guns!





Admittedly, I had fun hanging out with Brian, shooting guns was far more entertaining, than I anticipated. In short, it was a time well spent. Trust me when I say, no one is more surprised by this admission than I am. There you have it though, I enjoyed hanging out on the farm, with Brian Storm. Dare I say, I might even call him... friend. Scary, huh? I can't wait to text Lux and tell her all about it. Funny how this little pay-per-view was bringing individuals together. Peace through war, in a manner of speaking.


First and foremost, before I do anything. My main goal is set on going home, taking a shower and changing outta these clothes. Cause I smell like a fucking farm and that is not an odor, I want lingering on my body. Unfortunately, these plans are thwarted as soon as I enter my apartment. Through the darkness that welcomes me, in the far corner of my living room, the smoldering ember from a cigarette can be seen. Flaring up for a second and then slightly dulling, in the way that it would do, when someone intakes a pull off it.


From my place near the front door, I can't make out who it is but I can tell they're sitting, based on where the cherry of the cigarette floats. Cautiously, I move forward, my eyes never leaving the space where the cigarette exists. As I walk into my living room, my eyes gradually adjust to the darkness and I can confirm there's a shape of a person, sitting in the recliner that's located in the corner. However, at the same precise instant that this realization washes over me, I also become aware of another being. Situated on there knees. Without hesitation, I toss my hand to the side and send a wave of force at the light switch, instantly activating it. And gasp.


There's a woman, bound, gagged and on her knees but this is no random, unidentified female. No, this is Rocket, the girl that has Azrael Erebus; from this timeline, locked away inside her mind, unbeknownst to her. Around her neck is a silver collar that is all too familiar to me. It looks very similar to the one that encircled Abigail's neck. The device that hindered her powers and made her execution possible. Behind her, sitting comfortably in my black leather recliner, Luger in lap and finger on the trigger... is none other than - Nathaniel Adolph Zachary Idenhaus. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he acknowledges me, with a friendly smile. Somehow through the shock of everything that I'm witnessing, I manage to formulate words.


"I thought you were extradited back to Germany."


He smirks as he silently laughs to himself and shakes his head.


"Is that what's being said about me? That's fantastic. Things are going precisely according to plan."


"What are you talking about? You mean to say that you missed your match with Scully... on purpose? But why?"


"Come now Donovan, you're far too intelligent to be asking such things. Besides, you're a part of the XWF... still, you know as well as I did, that means there are eyes and ears everywhere. They are always watching, even if they're not constantly recording, a contract with the XWF means you are never alone. I simply couldn't afford that intrusion on my privacy any longer. So I made a deal. Now I am free to do as I please. Which is a vital step that had to be taken in this stage of the operation."


"You made a deal? With who?"


"That is of no importance. Although he did come as quite the unexpected sort of devil. I suppose that's the point. If only they all knew what was hidden below the charming exterior that this gentleman displays on an everyday basis. He's got them all fooled. It almost makes me rethink my initial judgement of him. Almost. Which brings me to the subject of clever facades and what dwells beneath them. I think you can gather where I am going with this."


He gestures towards Rocket, with the barrel of his Lugar as he takes a drag from his cigarette.


"I think it's time to end this little charade, don't you?"


"How do you mean to do that?"


It was a stupid question.


"Really? I thought that was obvious. I'm going to do something that you, your siblings and your entire band of super friends, couldn't force themselves to do. I'm going to shoot Rocket in the head and release Azrael."


"No... you can't, there has to be another way."


"Are you seriously this naive? How the fuck did you think this was going to go down? Huh? Did you think there was going to be some shiny, happy ending to all this, where they both actually live? Your father gets extracted from Rocket's mind, while she still remains alive. Is that how you pictured this scenario coming to a close? No, Donovan. Suffice to say, that is not how this tale ends. It was never meant to and your father, knew this. Why do you think he had me create her? She was made to be a vessel that could house your father. Until the time was right. Maxwell Maximus would execute nothing more than a shell of your father. Then eventually, I would do what needed to be done."


"It was all planned out ahead of time and I played my part very well, I must say. Must come from all the experience that I've had playing nice as a helpful surgeon, to the mongrels and insufficient waste that I would otherwise condemn to death. Thankfully that time has passed. It is now time to focus on grander things as I move forward to phase two. However, a promise is a promise and I am a man of my word. What good would the next Führer be if he didn't hold true to his Word? In addition to that, I owe Azrael an immense debt of gratitude. A debt that I intend to repay, in full. Eventually. Still, even after this act of kindness on my part is completed, I don't believe that we'll be satisfactorily square on that. It is a start though."


With conviction and a growing rage, seething within, I raise my hand.


"I won't let you do this. There's another way. I know it."


Much to my fury, all Nathaniel did was laugh and point his gun at the back of Rocket's head.


"Oh by all means, attempt to stop me. I'm only the guy that's been plotting world domination and mass genocide for several years. Naturally, I'd cut corners and fail to take all the proper precautions, that were needed to ensure that this objective was a success. Give me a fucking break. What do I look like? Colonel Klink?"


Tears streamed down Rocket's face, her bright red hair falling in front of it as she dips her head forward and softly sobs.


"Well, allow me to correct the error in your perception, not all Nazis are inept, bumbling idiots. In spite of the clear failures made by Hitler and his Third Reich. For I am far superior to my predecessors and do not suffer from their weaknesses. That unified understanding will start here... I do hope the XWF camera imp that's in hiding, captures my good side."


Nathaniel pulls the trigger and I toss up a force field as fast as I possibly can. Alas... to no avail. Rather than ricocheting off of an invisible barrier, the bullet remains on course and in an instant, it is buried deep within Rocket's skull. Needless to say, I was horrified. I couldn't speak. All I could do is watch, as Nathaniel stands, places a boot on the back of Rocket's skull and then, removes the collar from her throat. In one quick snap.


"H-H-How?"


I manage to stammer this out as Nathaniel walks to the door that leads out to the balcony.


"That's for me to fully know and you to find out. I will say this, the trick is in the gun and this..."


He slips the sleeve of his shirt back to reveal a black, metallic band on his wrist.


"Don't try and follow me, while I might respect your father, I promise you this now, such an act would prove to be... irreparably tragic for you."


Hand on the handle, Nathaniel opens the door as he looks directly at me. His eyes, intense silver orbs, gleaming against the backdrop of the night sky, that dwells just beyond the windows and now, open door leading out to my balcony.


"Oh and Donovan. You're welcome."


Smiling, he takes a final drag from his cigarette and flicks it off the balcony as he exits my apartment. From there the transformation is instantaneous. Within the time it takes one to blink, Nathaniel transforms from man to wolf, swiftly leaping from the balcony. In one single bound. Everything within me, urges me to run and see where he might've landed.


With that bullet he killed both Rocket and my father. Azrael's chances of returning were gone. I don't care what that madman said. His freedom did not equal an innocent's demise. There's no way my father would design such a vicious plot. No way. While Azrael had a dark past, those days were long behind him. I refuse to believe he could ever concoct such a sadistic scheme with that racist piece of shit. Stepping past Rocket's corpse, I rush to the door, intent on giving chase, despite the warning Nathaniel gave.


Yet before I could cross the threshold and pass from apartment to balcony, I hear a distinct groan. The noise instantly halts my movement as two factors become exceptionally obvious. The sound wasn't made by a female and I am no longer alone. Being a non-believer of Nathaniel's crackpot conspiracy theory, I pivot on my heels and gasp, for the second time that evening. Existing before me, in all his glory, stands - Azrael Erebus. My father.





"Hello son."


And just like that... everything I knew about the man that sired my brothers and I, crumbled to bits. I had been wrong about what Azrael Erebus was truly capable of and as I look upon him now... I realize, I don't know my father at all.





"Deacon goes to HELL!"


"How exciting!"


"I must say, I'm captivated. I can't wait to watch the next edition. If the last one had me on the edge of my seat. Well, by golly... the corresponding one, will certainly see me falling on the fucking floor. Maybe even crashing right through it!"


"Seriously, anyone who sits through that first one, will certainly agree with me."


"I mean it's incredible."


"A demon lurking in the bowels of hell, cutting a promo for Deacon."


"Not only is that revolutionary but somehow, someway... this demon. This vile, sadistic beast from the depths, the likes of which usually thrives on torturing and tormenting mortals, while a pair of priests struggle with all their might, to rid the poor sods of the vicious creature. The power of Christ compels you! And the like. For some reason, this particular demon, decides to channel Deacon."


"That's right!"


"Instead of following suit, like all the rest of the evil spirits dwelling down in the pits of hell, it doesn't possess Deacon. No, that's too cliché. This edgy as fuck demon, can't abide by those standards. It needs to break the mold and do something different. So it calls upon the thought process of Deacon and allows him to take it over. Yeah! Now that's precisely the unconventional way of thinking that sets the trends! It's also the only way to explain how it could get things so royally misconstrued. Virtually in the same exact fashion that Deacon did when he cut a promo against Ezra. All on his own. Without any help from a hideous hellion."


"It's uncanny."


"Really."


"Otherwise, you would think an all knowing, all powerful demon would have a better arsenal of words to use against me. After all, this is a malevolent creature that can look deep into the hearts, souls and minds of beings for the sole purpose of using the information that it gathers, against its victims as a means of breaking them. Till the victim is literally begging for a release, even if it means succumbing to the evil entity and yet, when this demon talks it sounds like an idiot that couldn't be bothered with doing even a smidgen of research, on the subject that it's speaking about."


"Which is funny because there's quite a bit that it could have used against me. However, instead it decides to talk about committing suicide as an infant born under the surname, Blackwater. Whilst making insinuations about my encounters with Lux, Zane and Thaddeus."


"An all powerful demon that has to resort to basically the same tactics that it accused me of doing. Good job, Beelzebub. Way to show that you're superior. Good thing you were there to stop Deacon from saying something stupid. By channeling Deacon and saying it for him!"


"Next up there's Tony! Good ol' 15 Packs!"


"I have to admit something, Tony. I really can't tell if you're this stupid or if you're simply having a laugh and you know that you're talking outta your ass. Like your name was Jim Carrey at the start of his career. Is that what this is? Are you Ace Ventura-ing me, Tony?"


"Both options would give plausible reason why you think I'm latching onto my family's achievements. Now I can understand why you would say that in regards to my father. Considering all that he has done in the XWF. But when you insist that I'm latching onto - my family's achievements. That I don't get. You're saying that I'm riding the coattails of Raphael, Ezra, Lila, Oliver, my three year old son, Arkin and Lila's infant son, Grey."


"Oh yeah, that makes loads of sense and you know what, you're absolutely, one hundred percent accurate. That is precisely what I'm doing. I'm riding the coat tails of all of them. Primarily my infant nephew."


"Ahahaha! Wow! You think my head is stuck in a constellation and I need to be real. How about this one, Tones on Tails. Why don't you spin yourself around, straighten your posture and stop speaking directly out of your asshole."


"You want facts, you want accomplishments. Lets compare you and I, shall we?"


"You are the Hart Champion. Solid attainment there. No doubt. I actually went up against Death aka Mandii Rider in my debut match, for the Hart title and lost. No shame there, I can admit that defeat. She was a worthy adversary. On the flip side, you beat up a fifteen year old kid, who lost her spark. A tiny girl that I once encountered when she was dressed in pajamas, frolicking about in the halls, with a bowl of cereal. That is your claim to fame. Kudos. You really earned that title big guy."


"Then in my second match, I took on the X-Treme champ and won. Look at that, we have a title in common. Curious. How many titles did you win by your second match? Anyhow, I valiantly defended that title for eighty-four days, while you held it for twelve. Wow. Now that's a real feat there. Of course, then there's the Television title. Yet another title that we both carried, that I managed to wield longer than you did. Quick question Tony, If my accomplishments... those same titles that you also won with the exception that I held them longer than you, count as nothing and I solely achieve notoriety and worth from the merit of my family, what are you doing? Besides being the man that beat up a child for a prize."


"You want me to be real, Tony. Lets be real. I am infinitely better than you in every conceivable way. Comparing you to me, is like dumping a can of expired dog food onto a plate and then laying it next to another plate that's occupied by a Wagyu filet mignon steak. Or a thread bare, worn out thrift store quality suit, circa 1962, that's hung right alongside a custom fit, tailor made suit."






"Which all my suits happen to be because fuck the cost, I'm worth it. I'm not first class, I'm elite class and I deserve nothing but the best. Since I am an absolute adonis, my attire accents me perfectly too. What can I say, I'm a masterpiece and a true marvel to behold."


"While I would describe your appearance as barely acceptable to a sloppy drunk wench, sprawled out on a tavern floor. The kinda gal that you would be right there to scoop up, take back to your trailer and make awful, sweaty, disgusting love to. In an awkwardly unsatisfying, single, repetitive, momentum like someone repeatedly pressing a key on a keyboard, over and over again, till you ejaculate... so I guess it wouldn't really be all that unsatisfying, for you. Hope you remember to sheath that snake though cause that's the type of pathetic, unsavory behavior that'll see you collecting sexual diseases, like folks catching pokemon in Pokemon Go!"


"Before you even think of suggesting it, don't even try to go for the 'never-had-sex' card with me. Come on. Look at me. A specimen as fine as this doesn't go to bed alone. Not often anyway. And when those times do occur, they are of course... of my own volition. Yes, I've had my fair share of conquests... and then some. I simply don't slum for them, down at the local watering hole. Where you can buy cans of Natural Ice for fifty cents. On top of that, I was married and I have a son, that I sired. In spite of what Lacklan thinks, that did not occur by profound, immaculate conception."


"So you see Tony, there's no comparison between us. The only thing we share beyond the titles that we both have wielded on different occasions. Is the fact that we're males and we are taking part in the same fight. A fight that you will lose because lets face the facts here. When it comes to you vs me in a battle. There isn't another foreseeable option. There just isn't. I'm an unrelenting force few can reckon with and I have the record to prove that. When I enter that ring, I am determined and fearless and I will come at you with everything I've got until I've utterly dismantled you. By the end of the fight you will be broken. Maybe even beyond repair."


"You are only human. Your kind tends to break rather easily. And without a regeneration factor, you're looking at a very bleak road to travel on during that journey. Hey, maybe you'll get disability compensation out of this and still get paid without putting the rest of us and yourself, through another comeback. Since you admitted that you're only in it for the money, that should give you all you ever wanted. Huh? Guess there is a ray of sunshine for you in this after all."


"Luca Arzegotti. I must say, I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping to hear some of Luca's famous, straight up, fire that he's rumored to spit. Instead, I get nothing but silence and dissatisfaction. Oh well, I suppose that shouldn't have come as too much of a shock. That is his signature move these days. No longer is he the spirited rebel without a cause, taking names and kicking ass. Now, he loses left and right and dresses like females, from campy movies that came out in the eighties. Beg pardon, monsieur Luca. Might I suggest to you, Andie from Pretty in Pink, for your next performance piece.. er, I mean promo."


"His name is Blaine? Oh! That's a major appliance, that's not a name!"


"Classic."


"As for Double G and Sam, stick with your gut and don't show up. Let someone fill in for you and then do yourselves a favor. Quit. Or kill yourselves. Whichever works. It's your call."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...