The next few days were a haze of pain and education. KnightMask felt certain he’d been suplexed more times over that short period than in his entire career in the grappling arts to date. It was also one of the first times in a long time that he was faced with a curriculum that didn’t come naturally.

In fact, it didn’t seem to be coming at all.

First, he went with Hagar, using the Greco-Roman rule of no attacks to the legs and no attacks directly utilizing the legs, such as trips and the like. When the 300-pound, mustachioed grappler nearly slammed him through the ring, he felt no shame, given the man’s substantial size and advantage and of course, the fact that he was one of the best in the world at the style of wrestling. Of course the teacher was going to wipe the mat with the student.

When female wrestler The Southerner did likewise, again, he didn’t mind too much. He was trying deliberately not to use brute force, trying to learn as they locked up and heck, she was a champion in her league, maybe in one of the men’s divisions, he couldn’t recall.

It wasn't until he attempted to grapple with Ratboy under the Greco-Roman rules that he began to feel the old demons of despair gathering up at the gates of his willpower once again. Ratboy was denigrated by many of his fellow wrestlers as a “j o b be r”, but if that was true, it was probably the least of his problems. Ratboy’s most constant companion, whom he refered to as ‘Bob’, was a dead rat, whom Ratboy claimed had somehow, some way, raised him from the time he was a boy.

Raised him.

In the sewers.

That was the story, anyway, and Ratboy stuck to it, when he was coherent enough to have a conversation. Ratboy’s primary tactic during matches was to shove Bob into his opponent’s mouth, perhaps grossing his opponents into submission. But apparently, Ratboy was also a solid Greco-Roman wrestler. Either that, or KnightMask was just that bad. He’d tied up with Ratboy, attempted to secure double under-hooks…and well, things went downhill from that point. As they pummelled for position, Ratboy had actually literally thrown KnightMask out of the ring. Only his constant training in tumbling and gymnastics saved him, as he was able to twist in mid-air and land with some grace right next to The Southerner, who was observing the proceedings from outside the ring.

Things actually went downhill from there as well. The self-proclaimed Southern Belle recoiled from his proximity and shoved him away—“I ain’t that kinda girl, sugah…!” right towards M. Ike Hagar, who, as timing who have it, was sipping coffee at the time. Deciding that smacking into the 350-pound, iron thewed Hagar was not the best idea, KnightMask dove between the giants legs, tucked into a forward roll and came to his feet directly behind Hagar.

It was then that the both of them were met by a flying bodypress from Ratboy, who had apparently abandoned the concept of operating within the Greco-Roman ruleset.

Although Ratboy’s diminutive, 150-pound body didn’t even budge Hagar, his cup of coffee went flying from his hands, splashing all over The Southerner’s jeans. Gasping in horror, she stifled a scream and back up, only for her stilleto heels to literally impale Bob, who was, unbeknownst to anyone except for maybe Ratboy, lying on the floor directly behind her.

Ratboy: Booooob!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I VOW....VENGEANCE! VVVVVVENGEANCE!

Snatching Bob up, Ratboy slithered out of the gym, into the night.

KnightMask: Ratboy....! Come back! It was a mistake... I mean...I mean...I'm sorry.....

Man...can I ever do anything right? Doggone it. Maybe its better if I just forget this whole wrestling gig...maybe the world has seen enough of KnightMask...maybe its time to return this mask to where it really belongs....I'm only disgracing it...

As KnightMask began to silently ruminate on how he could possibly aid Jorge and Natalia with his XWF winnings if he couldn't even handle Ratboy, Hagar and The Southerner exchanged knowing looks.

Hagar: You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?

Southerner: Oh yeah, absolutely hon. Ratboy ain't had a tantrum like that lil' spate in days. He's really comin' along...an' this time, he actually ran out instead o' tryin' t' make it t' the sewers through the toilet...

Hagar sits down next to KnightMask.

Hagar: Y'know, you might never be a slam-master like me, or at least in the same way as me. But the way you moved around there? The way you landed on both your feet after Ratboy tossed you outta the ring? You c'n move, boy. Spiderman ain't got nothin' on yah. Yeah, you ain't no Karl Gotch or Alexander Karelin, but you c'n also do things that those guys can't... You got a slam, a special slam...that not many people are ever gonna be able to do, you ever heard of the Flying Squirrel?

Southerner: Y'know...he's spry as a fox with those flips o' his...its a crazy move...but it just might work...

KnightMask: The Flying Squirrel....?

Hagar: Kid, the move I wanna show you...well, its a crazy long shot by any sense o' the word...but that's what this industry is all about...crazy long shots! It's gonna take practice, its gonna take time AND timin' and even then, its a huge risk--

Like a discus, Hagar threw KnightMask from the roof of the apartment building, to an alley below. A dumpster, garbage cans and a 250-pound throwing dummy waited to greet him. No sooner had he landed--on his feet, thank God for his training--than Hagar was hollering for him to gutwrench the throwing dummy.

--but I'll tell y'somethin' else kid...this here is the stuff that caught a Valkyrie's eye when she was pickin' out who was gonna hitch a ride t' Valhalla wit' her! This move is yer key t'joinin' the exclusive Slam Master society! Remember, XWF don't--

Back at Slam Master's gym, weighted down by a 200-pound vest, KnightMask somersaults again and again over first one box, then two, then three, then four, then...

--got weight classes...that means you and yer 180-some pounds is gonna be havin' t'go up against all sorts o' gorillas...an' this move, its gonna give yah the momentum an' leverage yer gonna need...nothin' in the world is easy kid...sometimes--

In the ring, the masked catch-wrestler nearly collapses as he nears his 100th repetition of a gutwrench throw to the 250-pound dummy.

--findin' the weapon y'need an' learnin' to use that weapon is every bit as hard as the battles yer gonna wage with the weapon, cause sometimes--

Hagar blasts the accelerator on his Trans-Am, driving straight at KnightMask, who somersaults over the vehicle, barely having time to land before Hagar whirls around and comes for another pass.

--its one challenge, after another, after another...

KnightMask . Outside the ring, Hagar and The Southerner exchange approving nods as KnightMask helps Ratboy back to his feet.

...but that's what it takes! So whaddya say? Its a one-in-a-million move and yer gonna have to go through all 9-levels of you-know-where to get this down pat an' even then it might not work.

KnightMask: Like Han Solo said, 'Never tell me the odds.' What are we waiting for? Lets get started!