• He must have a truly romantic nature,
  for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
  -Oscar Wilde

otherwise known as Steve Kessler?
{encapsulated in sarcasm==And ohhhh look at that};
a muddiness adorns that face of yours at the very thought of what I've asked you, Sayors. And why? For what reason is there confusion? I'm willing to wager you've heard of Oscar Wilde and I'm even willing to go out on a speculative limb and say you know who the XWF's Steve Kessler is.

Yes… yes… I know them both. I'm confused by the question. Are you saying they've somehow met one another? I find the question in itself to be peculiar, yes, but I....can't wrap your mind around the concept of time. Precisely. You can't allow yourself to believe that the power of one Steven Kessler's whining is sensory corrosive enough to travel back and greet an anguished Oscar Wilde, but tell me, Sayors: is it really that far fetched to believe Mr. Kessler's weeping has been going on for so long that it has traversed across time itself in all directions? Not just forward and back, mind you.

Ah I see what you're doing. You're bringing up Steve Kessler's latest promo. He did seem to be taking some exception to all of the hardships he's faced throughout the years and in recent times, I agree.

Sayors, the child whined and weeped and moaned so loud and so long that I thought some sort of massive aquatic mammal was having a miscarriage in a nearby body of water. Mr. Kessler is just another brick in the wall as Mr. Pink Floyd would have said.

Mr. Pink Floyd?

I did not stutter. My point being that our dear Mr. Kessler is just another run of the mill "hard worker" who believes he deserves more than he's been allotted in life. As if this world needs another barely able-bodied middle-achiever to worry about and hear complain. Mr. Sayors, did you happen to catch when Steve Kessler was letting us know of the continuant ridicule he receives from others even when he's going about his own personal business? He went as far as to enlighten us all on the fact that he can't even leave his home without random strangers seeing him and calling him a "" or attempting to steal his last few dollars. I'll be as truthful as I've ever been with you Sayors when I tell you, I did shed one tear for him. I honestly did, and it evaporated before it was able to run off of my cheek and make it halfway down to the ground.

I'm not so sure he said those exact words, but I do get your point.

It's not the wording that matters, Sayors. His message was clear and it's one of sorrow and abuse—the world has never and will never be kind to the one called Kessler, and his breaking point was apparently reached long ago when you take into account how comfortable he was sharing his miserable existence with us all. If I believed any man on Azrael's team was already beaten before even reaching the ring, it would be our dear Mr. Steve Kessler. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he is already working on his hate filled post-loss speech at this very moment; tears running down his face as he looks in the mirror and practices pointing that accusational, limber finger. The poor, unfortunate child's mind that operates that flesh and bone vessel is so flummoxed, he would quite possibly make the combined brains of John Samuels and Vincent Lane appear to function on a 50% competency level instead of the measly 3% they share between them. It is with a heartfelt understanding that I reach into my inner pocket and produce this tissue, Sayors, and I'm handing it to you with every hope of my being that you'll pass it along to Steve Kessler as soon as we've concluded this meeting. Here, take it.

I um, ok. Sure. Anything to get this interview moving along because I have a lot I want to cover with you today.

Begin, Steven. I've been waiting patiently while filling the otherwise void air with the very definition of small talk. Let's move on to a subject that matters.

Alright great, I was wondering what your thoughts are on the others who have brought up your name in the last week or so. I'd like to run down the list of names one by one and briefly touch on what they've said, and also hear your reactions.

That sounds like a lot of fun, Steven. I'll pass, however. Why don't I ask you another question instead?

Wait, what? I'd really like to.. ..answer my next question? Splendid, dear boy! Splendid indeed. I can't help but grin from ear to ear as I prepare to ask you what may very well be an incredibly dispiriting question, Sayors. And there with a slumping of his shoulders and perhaps a silent exhale, the dear boy accepts my proposal.

Sure, I guess. What's the question?

Don't you find it demoralizing and emasculating as the supposed "official interviewer" of the XWF that you haven't been mentioned even one time out of all of the War Games promos? I'll admit, I haven't had a desire to view every last one but I have taken the "time" to view a good majority of them. I haven't seen you appear on any of them, Steven. In fact, do you know which "Steve" is getting mentioned the most by the stars heading into War Games?

I actually do know. It's part of my job to know what's going on around here, and strangely enough the Steve that gets the most mention is Steve Davids.

Yes! A man who hasn't even been seen anytime recently, was never expected to be a part of War Games, and is a guaranteed fall guy in just about any match he does find himself involved in. He's the Steve that the boys in the back are talking about; not Steve Kessler… not Steve Sayors. It's as though the names Sayors and Kessler are battling with one another for the absolute bottom spot in all of the wrestling industry. Now, Steven, it's very understandable how Kessler could be residing on that level, but you? You're an official employee of the company and not just another roster member. You're supposed to be appearing in people's interviews and promos. You're supposed to be getting slapped and made fun of, even. Just how pathetic do you feel right about now when you think about your current place in this company and among its roster? Tell me, Steven, do you consider the thought of running a blade through those veins in your arms and bleeding yourself dry so you have a chance of being mentioned or cared for one last time?

Why are you doing this? We're live on the air and you're wasting your own interview time. Can we please.. ..time? Again with that, Sayors? You really don't listen, do you? Time is on my side and time is one thing I need not bide, my lugubrious flea. Now tell us what we all want to hear; explain how it feels to be sending out invites to interview sessions much like the one I accepted from you, but to have refusal after refusal. Tell us how it feels each time you get ignored, not even worth the time to be told no thanks. There was a time you were revered as one of the top laughing stocks of the wrestling world, and now? Now? Now I shake my head in dismay for you and I'd gladly do so for a thousand years at this rate.

I'm eager to know the number of names you've reached out to in regards to this upcoming pay per view and I'm even more ravenous for that explanation of what that feeling in your chest and stomach is like each time you fail again. Just how much longer will it be, Sayors, before you're wished well on your future endeavors in favor of a younger and more charismatic journalist? Or even replaced by an unskilled, failed wrestler? There are companies who give the less physically demanding jobs to the performers who can't hack it in the ring, you know. What will you do the day Steven Kessler takes your job? Will you kill yourself then, Sayors? I would.

Enough!

{flooded in mockery==Oh my goodness, Steven, are you upset with me?}
Oh please… I'd stake my very existence on your complete unawareness of the word enough. Look at you, standing up from your seat as red in the face as a fresh beet. I'd ask if your crimson face is a result of embarrassment or anger but you'd likely dodge that question as well. Get out of my sight if you can't answer a few simple inquiries, you soiled poltroon.

I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions!

The click of the stop button on Evertrust's voice recorder as a heart stopping silence overtakes the area.

I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you. Please, sit back down.

Wh-what are you doing? Please, I said I was sorr.. ..Silence, heathen! You know, there are some among us who perceive me to be a god. Perhaps it is time for you to accept me as such.

On your knees, termagant.

Sayors begins to weep, slowly lowering down to his knees as Evertrust's knifelike stare sends surges of ice down his spine. Perhaps due to the ominous feeling that his life is in danger or possibly a result of the disheartening subject matter Evertrust was bringing up moments prior, Steve Sayors fully breaks down into tears as he buries his face in his own hands and falls forward on the ground.



But then



Nothing happens



Until the weeping ceases



Much sooner than Steve Kessler's weeping would have ceased



And when Sayors finally summons the courage to raise his head and look up



He is once again in a most familiar position in life: he is completely and utterly… alone.



And after the fading away of that scene and perhaps Steve's very will to live, the voice of Evertrust rings out through the blackness for a final thought.



The Steves have already cried themselves to sleep, but worry not, Azrael. Fret not, Jack of no trades. I haven't forgotten about either of you. Even Mr. Alden and Mr. Heartsford of all people—you've all a spot on my tongue before this week concludes.

And to Maverick? I appreciate what a fan of mine you've become; for I may even find the inclination to address you further, since you've been so kind as to keep thoughts of me fluttering around in that head of yours.