He woke up at three in the morning, feeling his knee, which felt like it was burning from the inside out.

"Fuck this smarts..."

He swung his legs off to the side of the bed, feet touching the floor. He began to stand and growled through the pain. He limped over to the closet getting his clothes ready so he can shower. However, unlike his normal attire, he pulled out a black Alexander Amosu Vanquish II Bespoke suit, a Stefano Ricci metallic-pleated tuxedo shirt, neon green tie, black socks, and a pair of Testoni dress shoes, custom made to his size Each item costing over at least a couple thousand dollars.

With what he had to do today, he needed to dress like someone about to deal with businessmen, and if he didn't look the part, they'd most likely snub him.

Alysia woke up as he made noises to get ready, hearing him grunting and growling as he tried to walk normally, only to be shaky because of the bulk on him pressing so much of the weight on his knee. She moved over to him, smiling slightly,

"Ozzy, what are you doing?"

"I've got literal business to take care of. I have to adhere to my parents' wishes, since I reclaimed everything. I have businesses to run, stocks to manage, buy businesses so I can run them in the future. I've also got to visit some places, donate some money, to make sure the people of Chicago are going to get better."

"Doesn't seem like we're doing much..."

"I don't care about the thugs. I donate to orphanages, to battered women, battered women with children."

"I see..."

"I'll be gone for the entire day. Give Fuzen a hug and a kiss for me. Let her see the belt. Just don't let her make a mess on it or near it. It was created with the great Bret Hart in mind."

She nodded

"All right, Ozzy."

She gave him a kiss as he walked into the shower, though she would soon join him, the steam began to block the sight of Tank and Alysia beginning to kiss, grope, and fondle one another.

---

He sighed as he stood amongst the COOs of his various companies and all of their lawyers. Ghost Tank had shown he was holding something in his hand, and it touched the ground. It was a cane in the shape of a scythe, with the handle being the blade. The handle being platinum, and the shaft being mahogany. He walked between the men and a couple of women that were talking about what the next business they should buy out, and this kind of thing only made Oswald grumble, though no one seemed to notice. A woman spoke touched his left arm and he looked down to her. She wore a rather modest business suit, only styled to fit her figure.

"Oswald, are you okay?"

He shook his head

"No. I hate this kind of thing. I would rather be home training or being with my wife and child."

She looked interested, then when he spoke about a wife and child, she looked discouraged,

"Ah, I see. If you'd like, I could handle the business side if you'd like?"

She 'accidentally' touched his ass then acted embarrassed

"I'm sorry! I forget how tall you are!"

He chuckled as he saw the blush adorn her cheeks

"Before Fuzen, Alysia and I were in an open relationship, and once Fuzen reaches a certain age, Alysia and I will be open again."

He bent down to speak into her ear

"If you don't mind waiting."

He kissed her forehead before standing up tall and his army of businessmen and women were beckoned to the office, with Ghost Tank sticking to the middle of the 'pack' of people leaning more on the cane so that he can alleviate the pain in his knee

---

Ghost Tank sighed, sitting at the Bathtub Gin and Co. in Seattle. His business deal went through, but he wanted to try and just relax. He'd heard this place was good, and wanted to check it out while he was in town. He decided to try a couple of drinks, one being the most expensive, of course, Veuve Clicquot. The other being the Freakshow, a red wine. However the enjoyment of the atmosphere prior to eight pm, had been ruined. As time went on, several people began to drink more heavily, some became more rowdy. This made him growl and the taste of the Veuve became less desirable. He moved to stand, and he walked over to the very large people being raucous, and they looked to him. He looked older than he was at this moment, and the people just beginning their adulthood, from twenty-one to twenty-five, looked up to him

"Can you be a bit quieter? Some of us are trying to actually enjoy these drinks."

The 'bigger' of the people, a man of twenty three, three hundred and forty pounds and about six foot two, stood up and looked up at Tank,

"Gramps wants us to be quiet."

The group snort-laughed, some cackled.

"I'm not much older than you are."

The bull of a man chuckled

"Yeah, Gramps, sure you are."

"Want to know why I'm using this cane?"

The man shook his head

"No, I don't." He turned to look at his group, "Can you fucking believe this guy? I bet he's about to share his fucking life story to us now."

Tank shook his head slightly, smirking. He took a few steps back, before tossing the cane up into the air, causing them to watch the cane going into the air as the scythe shimmered in the light. He brought his hand back, then sent it through the air in a crescent form, grabbing the shaft, and using the momentum to send the handle straight into the man's skull. The blunt force and the shape of the object, caused it to be lodged into the man's head, killing him. If that wasn't enough, Ghost Tank brought his bad leg up into the air, standing on the good one, and he put his foot to the man's chest, and yanking the cane hard while kicking forward as hard as he can. This would actually cause the skull to burst open, tearing a chunk out, and the man's brain starting to ooze out, with only the spine keeping it inside the body.

The women screamed, the men cried out "OH FUCK!"

Ghost Tank took the handle and began swinging it about, cracking the skulls of the men, and because the women continued to scream, he swung the handle into their throats, then yanking, effectively tearing out their throats. He looked over their dead bodies, grinning sadistically.

"I use it so I can reap people that are like you."

WIth the group dead, he went over to his drinks, downed them as quickly as possible, calling to the bartender,

"I'll pay later."

And with that, he made his way out of the bar, and his driver would take him to the airport to be taken back home in his private jet.

---

"So, Soldier. I haven't really paid attention to anything you've done, aside from holding the X-Treme championship title for a second time. Congratulations on that achievement, especially since you got it from Frodo. Now, let me say one thing.

The belt will be mind, Soldier. Even if I lose, there will be a day when I own it, whether I get it from your hands, or the hands of someone else. I will fulfill my goal. Fuck, I can't even have fun wearing the Hart title. When I defend now, it will have to be the more boring matches, something I dislike, save for something like a ladder match. Get to swing ladders the sizes of myself, the Big Show, Great Khali. Ladders are fun.

However, I'm not defending. We get to have some fun. However, the first round pick is going to be difficult. It will provide the tone of our match. However, you know what? I have an idea of what match we should have. It's an old match of mine. Something I created a long time ago, and it was never reproduced.

A Meat Hook match.

Now, you might be unfamiliar with the match stipulation. While it is my first true match stipulation, I believe before the electrified cage and hell in a cell. This is my more unique of stipulations.

What you have to do, if you're unfamiliar with the rules, is you have to not just put hooks into your opponent, but to also hang them. They must be suspended in the air. That's the only way to win. You can't just have one hook in their skin. You must fucking stab and pull your opponent until you raise them up and they hang in the air.

Soldier. Unlike you, I know you can hear the screams. You're like me in a way. We like to be extreme, we like to do crazy shit to our bodies and to the bodies of others. So when I ask you this question, I know it will be a yes.

Soldier...