##Desperate times may
Call for desperate measures
You’ll see what I mean##

I went over notes until sundown and came up with an agenda. Out of the couple of “leads” given to me from Miss Cotton, I decided that I’d check out the bar Miss Fury ran first. The only other one was Big Money Oswald, the leader of the Bob, and, if I had the guts, check out the local police and see what they know… Even if Pryce had his hands in it.

On the back of the photo of Miss Fury there was a message that Miss Cotton didn’t bother pointing out before, assuming she was the one who wrote it.

“Join Bob?” I ask out loud.

I stacked all of the photographs together and stuffed them into my jacket pocket before leaving. It wasn’t a long walk to the bar and fairly easy to find. The little city was set up like a grid with the tower looming off in the background by itself. When I got there, the place looked a lot newer than the rest of town. It was a red brick building with no windows and neon lights that stretched all the way across and all around it.

“‘Scorched Earth - Bar and Lounge… NO. EXIT.’” I read aloud. “Heh. Hmm. Catchy.”

I walked up to the door and reached for the handle until I noticed a sign to my right that said to knock first. With my fist, I gave it three solid knocks. A slider in the door about eye level opened up swiftly which made me jump and I saw two eyes peering out at me. The beady eyes narrowed and looked me up and down.

“Got the password?” A deep voice bellowed through the hole.

“Password?”

The little slider slammed shut.

“Password???” I thought out loud to myself again.

I searched through my pockets and pulled out the photograph of Miss Fury and flipped it over. Again I gave the door three more solid knocks and the slider swiftly opened again. This time, I’m met with two angry eyes staring at me.

“Beat it.” The deep voice bellowed through the hole once more.

“Join. Bob.” I blurted out before he could slam the little door shut again.

I heard the latch from inside and then the door opened up. I recognized the guard immediately… Anyone that has had anything to do with the XWF for the last twenty years would have recognized Barney Green. He recognized me, too.

“What brings you back, Detective?” He said as we met in the doorway.

“I’m not a detective anymore, Mister Green. Remember?”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not. He didn’t acknowledge whether he did or didn’t.

“I’m just here on business, Barney.” I said

“Heh, heh, heh.”

“Something funny?”

“Nope.” He sneered and one of his eyes veered off… “I was just thinking of a joke I heard earlier.”

I tried to squeeze by him but I couldn’t. He took up a lot more than just the doorway.

“Mind if I head in now?”

After a big step to the side I’m allowed through into a large foyer with two other doors. There was one unmarked to my right and the one I headed for straight ahead marked “Lounge”.

“Good to see ya again, Barney.”

“Well, well, well….”

I stopped and looked back to see him staring outside the door at something. Another piercing shot rang through my head. It blurred my vision and then the stabbing pain returned to my stomach.

“What…. The fuck…. Is wrong with me…..” I’m not sure in my head whether I thought that or said it aloud. I felt like I was going to vomit and pass out… I stumbled into the door and crawled through it to the lounge.

When I got inside the aroma of stale beer and smoke took over my senses and the pain was gone. The place looked a lot bigger than it did on the outside. A large stairway took me down to the floor where dozens of dining tables were placed sporadically in no special order and most were occupied with someone. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a seat open in the house. To the side was another, shorter set of steps that led up to the bar and ahead of everything was the stage where everyone seemed to have their focus. Ever forward. Rather than looking for an open seat among the masses I decided to head towards the bar.

I took a seat on a stool and lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, like it was part of her entrance, the bartender slowly ascended from behind the bar. She had a very dark aura about her. Her skin was pale and her puckered, velvet lips formed around to a smirk as she slithered my way across the bar. She was the woman in the photograph. This was Miss Fury.

“What’s your poison, stranger?” She said with a low, soothing voice.

She looked just like she did in the picture, too. From the outfit to the way she did her make up that day.

“Just a cranberry juice, thanks.”

She took a step back then leaned back in.

"Booo! Are you sure? We have a special running on Doc Light tonight!"

"Doc…. Light?" My tongue twisted on the D word.

"Mmmhm. The Stale Ale. Like the original with no substance, but tons of filler! Great for those who can't handle the real thing."

"I think I'll stick with the cranberry juice, thanks…"

"Suit yourself…."

She creepily lowered away behind the bar again, but I ignored the theatrics. I turned away and leaned with my back against the bar looking out to the lounge. I noticed a few that couldn’t take their eyes off of me and probably called it “stranger danger”, but I kind of expected that. I didn’t recognize half of them either. Those that know me know that I was around during a very dark time in the XWF and those that don’t simply don’t trust me. As big as it may seem, the place holds together like glue if it has to and will eradicate and purge anyone and anything that threatens their little city.

I recognized Big Money sitting away from the crowd at a table in the corner. He sat silently with his Bebop and Rocksteady-looking bodyguards to each side yacking back and forth to each other. What did she call them? Mother fuckers? I debated whether now would be a good time to introduce myself as Miss Fury reemerged from behind the bar with my drink. She smiled so wide that it made me uncomfortable as she served me and I forced half a smile of my own accompanied with a small nod as I paid. From below, a scrawny, young, handsome-boyish looking guy trotted up the steps towards the bar and slid an empty bottle across it.

“Another?” Fury asked, barely giving the boy a look and staying fixed on me.

“Hell yeah! It’s my jam!” He squealed.

In one motion, Fury took the empty and replaced it with a full bottle. The bottle said, ‘Doc Light - The Stale Ale.’ A millisecond after she removed the cap for him the bottle was to his lips and he was sucking more down.

“Good stuff?” I asked him.

“Psh, yeah? It’s amazing.” He said in a bitchy, sarcastic tone then scampered off.



I watched him disappear into the crowd and when I looked back to Fury she was still staring at me with big, dark eyes. I took a sip from my drink and met her half way with a stare of my own.

“So you got a name, stranger?” The light voice from before got a little deeper.

“Trevor Dedntik.” I nodded. “Are you the owner of this place? Are you Miss Fury?”

“Myahahuhuhu!”

While unnecessary, it was a perfect evil laugh none the less.

“I am! Miss Fury at your service, Trevor Dedntik!” She bows.

“Do you suppose it would be alright if I asked you some questions?” I ask very politely.

“You’ve already asked me two questions, sir! Mhmhmhmhm…”

I thought I was getting another evil laugh, but I was denied.

“I would like to ask you about the disappearance of Vinnie---”

I’m interrupted when, suddenly, the lights dimmed in the whole place and a spotlight shined on the stage.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The show’s about to start. Your questions will have to wait.” She whispers.

“I’d rather just get through this if you don’t---”

I’m interrupted when Miss Fury turns me around to face the stage where the letters A-T-A-R-A lit up with flames then turned to ash as the curtain dropped to reveal the band and one of the most beautiful dame I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

She was another I didn’t recognize, but the way she looked up my way during her song made me feel like she did. I looked throughout the seating area and every single person was mesmerized by the music. She removed the microphone from the stand and carried it with her as she walked around the tables and sang her pretty song to everyone.

“Who? Is that?” I asked leaning further back to Fury leaning into the bar with her head on her hands.

“That’s Atara…” She sighs….

“Wow… She works here, huh?”

“It’s complicated, actually. But, yes.”

The dame eventually made her way up the steps towards me at the bar. She took a quick seat on my lap and nonchalantly slipped something into my inner jacket pocket without anyone noticing then got up and made her way back to the stage.
Fury and I watched the rest of the performance, well, at least I thought we did. When the lights came back on and the band went off on their little finale to a standing ovation from the crowd, I turned to face her again and she was gone from behind the bar.

“Hey! Where’d you go?” I asked myself.

I turned around again and there she was standing on the stage holding the microphone.

“Let’s hear it one last time for the beautiful…. Atara!!!”

For a show these folks probably see often, they sure give it up for it. I pulled what was a little piece of paper out of my jacket that she placed in there. I unfolded it and it read:

WATCH YOUR BACK DOVE

“I would like to take a moment and welcome someone back to the XWF… Someone who is a stranger to most of you, but an old acquaintance at most to others….”

I had hardly paid attention to what Miss Fury was saying as I pondered on the note and before I knew it I was blinded by the spotlight. From the stage, Fury aimed a long, neon green pointed finger directly at me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome back Detective Trevor Dedntik! Take a bow Detective” Her voice shrieks with joy but there is no applause that follows. Not even crickets.

I couldn’t see the reaction because I was still blinded by the spotlight pointed at me. I hold a hand up to block the light and there isn’t a single face in the crowd that looks welcoming at all. Miss Fury, on the other hand, I don’t think has quit smiling since I walked through the front doors. I don’t know what she was trying to pull here, but I didn’t like it. I was trying to stay low profile, but that didn’t last long at all. If Fury was this crazy, why would Miss Cotton send me to her right away? Not that I had any cover to begin with, I was planning on meeting most of these bozos at some point, but not like this.

“Don’t be shy Detective!”

Relentless.

I gave her what she wanted, I stood up and gave a wave. Then, instead of sticking around any longer I decided I should probably take my leave for now. I’ll get something out of Fury later, but for now, I think I should leave the masses and see everyone I can individually. The spotlight did finally leave me as Fury began to speak again.

“Alright, well, that’s our show! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!”

All of the lights in the place come on at once and everyone seems to have expected this as their tabs are paid, drinks are finished, and coats are nearly buttoned. As everyone began to flood towards the one EXIT, I decided to take my own path and cut through a door beside the bar. I find myself in a completely empty kitchen, wondering for a half-second where the hell everyone was, I just stormed through looking for a different way out. At the end of the kitchen and through the small storage room there it was! I pushed out through the door into an alleyway behind the building. I didn’t take two steps before a long black limo pulled up in front of me and two familiar large men stepped out from each side and stood side by side in front of me. I pulled a cigarette out from my box and lit it.

“Bebop.” I looked at Bobby Bourbon. “Rocksteady.” I look at the Thunder Knuckles.

“Ninja Turtles, huh?” Bourbon said as he looked over to Thunder Knuckles.

“Eh..” Said TK as he gave a one of a kind hand jerking motion. “I’ll accept that.”

“The boss wants to see you.”

“Well, we could arrange a meeting…. I was planning on getting in touch with him anyw--” I’m interrupted when the two of them grab me under each arm and throw me into the back. They piled in and sat on each side of me across from Big Money Oswald. He stared at me without saying a word for a few very uncomfortable moments. He looked to his two cronies to the side who are basically sitting on top of me…. Which added some physical uncomfortability on top of it…

“Boys… Give the detective some space. It looks like he’s suffocating for fuck sake.”

Oswald had a deep, gentle voice that still shook the earth. The two men obeyed their boss and skootched over a couple of inches to give me at least room to breathe. Oswald continues to stare at me with a sad look on his face.

“Is that better?” He asked.

I just nodded.

He sat silently some more until he let out a long breath and finally spoke.

“What brings you to my beautiful town, Detective… Dedntik, is it?”

I maneuvered a bit to free my arms. My cigarette got lost sometime during the abduction.

“Well, first of all, I’m no longer a detective, Mister Oswald.”

His facial expression didn’t change.

“No? Miss Fury wouldn’t be spreading misinformation, would she?”

Again, his face remained stone cold and the tone of his voice never changed.

“Misunderstood information, maybe. I’m more of a freelancer these days.”

He scratched his beard and nodded slowly at my answer.

“I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Vinnie Lane. You know anything about that?”

I was lucky to get the last word out before I got two huge elbows to each side of my ribcage that left me breathless.

“Big Money Oswald is the one asking questions here, bitch!” Said TK.

“Yeah! You just focus on answering those questions!”

“Boys, boys… Please. We’re here to have a discussion and, so far, Mister Dedntik has been very respectful and cooperative. Let’s not get carried away.”

I don’t know which one, but one of them grabbed me by the hair and straightened me up from being buckled over. Oswald still looked at me with a sad, compassionate look.

“Why is it that I have not heard about this? This disappearance of the Loverboy… of our leader.”

“Well, I think Theo Pryce is trying to cover things up. I caught up with him when I first got to town and he told me it was already looked into. To forget about it. To go home.”

“Could Pryce be trying to take over the XWF?” He said with no concern. His voice remained in the same, mellow tone that it started in.”

“I’m not sure. But he was very clear that he did not want me around.”

“Yet, you’re still here.”

I let out a sigh remembering how close I was to actually saying hell with all of this and going home. But I just didn’t have it in me to tell that girl to hit the road… Like I said, she seemed awfully desperate.

“Yes, I’m still here. I was hired to do a job and the reason most people come to me is because I don’t scare easy. It’s going to take a lot more than some suit pushing me around to get me to turn down work. Especially if that suit is a probable suspect.”

“Who hired you?”

“That’s classified.”

Like a reflex, I took two more elbows to my sides. Oswald held up a hand as if not to do that, but it was a little late.

“It’s understandable… I like that. Loyalty is very, very important. Loyalty to your brothers. Loyalty to your clients.” He said.

“It’s all part of the job.” I said still kind of gasping for air.

“It certainly is, I could use your services myself, you know.”

“Now, don’t fuckin' elbow me again, but I don’t take on more than a single job at a time. Conflict of interest a bit, ya know?”

The two henchmen didn’t like my answer, but Oswald managed to hold his hand up in time to stop the reaction.

“It will be nothing and you may even have an opportunity to get more information about your current case.”

“I get what you’re saying, but the answer is still no, I'm afraid. I have rules I gotta follow, ya know. You just said, loyalty to clients… This is all part of that.”

“Very well.” He said in a somehow deeper, more disappointed tone of voice. “Take my card in case you change your mind.”

"I'd be happy to work with you later on though, Mister Oswald. And if you have any information for me to help this along, by all means, don't hesitate to speak up. The quicker this is wrapped up and Vinnie Lane is back, the sooner I can assist you, sir."

He handed me his business card which wasn’t much at all. Just a phone number.
I could feel my eyebrow twitch as I pocketed it.

"I have a beeper... You... um.. Want the number in case---"

"That won't be necessary. I'll find you again if I need you."

He snapped his fingers twice and looked away from me. Like a couple of Dobermans acting on command, I was grabbed again from under my arms as TK pushed open the door and together the two of them shoved me out as the car was traveling down the road. I hit hard on the pavement very ungracefully. I tried doing something special to prevent injury and ended up worse than just letting things happen.






QUE SERA, SERA





I rolled to the curb where I hit my head and got some more sleep.

---

---

---

So, how long has the Patient been showing signs of distress?

About a week, Doctor.

How many days, my dear?

A committee of doctors and nurses sit around a long, rectangle table with the Doctor sitting at the head of it. He’s speaking with the nurse closest to him now.

Allow me to rephrase, on which day did the patient begin showing signs of distress?

Would you like me to read the full report, Doctor?

Please!

The nurse flips a few pages from the stack in front of her and reads from a few back.

Patient becomes frantic with uncontrollable, angry outbursts involving shouting and violence towards others.”

She coughs to clear her throat. The Doctor sits back in his chair and folds his arms as he listens.

Patient has refused participation in exams or sessions and has been verbally abusive to the staff.

Has shown signs of anger, agitation, irritability, restlessness, and depression.

Patient is socially awkward and harmful to others.

Attempts to segregate the Patient have been a success. Segregation process was completed on September 11th without incident and the Patient continues to be isolated.

Any signs of improvement?.

The Doctor smiles and chums up to the nurse who stacks her papers back neatly in a pile.

No signs of improvement, but the Patient appears content for the moment. They’ve made a few requests, which we’ve fulfilled.

What kind of requests?

The scene switches to the inside of the Patient’s room. The walls and floor are padded with the finest matting to prevent self harm, but even so, anyone who throws themselves against it enough times is going to hurt because the walls don’t budge either. He sits on the floor with his legs crossed staring at a television playing an old episode of XWF Monday Night Madness. He’s barely paying attention to the broadcast and focusing more on what’s on his lap. He’s scribbling onto a piece of tablet paper with a dull pencil.


All around the room there are papers scattered all around. Some are in piles and at least attempt to look organized, but it’s hardly believable in the mess he’s created.

The requests were not filled by my order, Doctor.

Yeah we’re back in the conference room of doctors and nurses.

Of course not. It was my order. I’ve been working with this patient for quite some time now and the timing of his state of mind certainly makes me ever so curious. I provided him with his desires because if he refuses to open up to us in our own ways then we shall allow him to in his own.

How would you like us to move forward, Doctor?

Continue your daily evaluations. I will prepare for a face to face, myself. It’s been a bit since we've had one of those.

I would advise against that, Doctor. The Patient’s current unpredictable behavior and his violent outbursts doesn’t make it safe.

I understand, nurse, but when the day comes the Patient will be ready to meet with me. You’ll just have to trust me. As I said, for now, go on with normal proceedings. Start feeding him more fruit, as well.

More fruit, Doctor?

Indeed.

The nurse takes note of it and the rest of the committee all wait for the Doctor as he sits and stares off into space… He does so for a long time until he snaps out of it and looks at them all with a smile.

That will be all.

They all gather their things, pick them up, and head out the door stage left. The Doctor remains in his seat, leaning back, and once again staring off into space.

Well, I’ve definitely begun to understand what’s going on here.

He spins around in his chair as the room around him begins rotting away. The walls and floor turn to flesh and the room shifts around and morphs into the Doctor’s office. His spin lands him in front of his desk where he places a burning cigar in his teeth and rests his hands on the desk.

These delusions you’ve been having have affected the way you’re perceiving what I’m saying. Let me explain.

The Doctor clears his throat.

You can call me whatever you like. Louis, Lou…. It doesn’t matter. Like I said, if it gives you the illusion of power over me then so be it. What did I mean by that exactly? I feel I have to explain it now before we are headed off the rails again, if it’s not already too late. Do I believe that you actually get power over me when you chant my name three times? No… But it’s all up here.

The Doctor taps his temple with his index and middle finger.

Hi, the name’s Rob. Oh, hi Bob. Everyone calls me Rob. Nah, I’m going to call you Bob.

He talks to one hand then the other.

Doesn’t that look and sound… A little crazy? A little...? Now, before you jump down my throat and explain to us where you’ve spent the last seven years, we know that already, so, calm down. The fact I believe this gives you power over me is not physical power at all, but the power within you that you give yourself. Courage. Confidence. It gives you the ability to see that one and only path ahead, ever forward, right? It was never about the name. The fact that you’re denying my requests after I pointed out what an inspiration I am to you shows that you’re simply embarrassed and angry with me for not praising you for it. The rejection after the rejection. The teenager ripping up every poster in their bedroom and burning every t-shirt that reminded them of their neglect. Does Chris Page inspire you, too? Because if I’ve been echoing him all of this time there’s a better reason behind it because we do not share the same playbook. As boring as you claim it to be, you’ve admitted yourself that you have a habit of hitting the same points over and over again. Maybe it is your own repetition that causes the same reaction out of everyone you face. That does sound boring… But whatever works right?! And it has! Our little exchange of honesty, as you’d call it, where you laid some of your known flaws out on the table -- Talking about throwing out some low hanging fruit, huh? And just so you know, pointing out the low hanging fruit before you eat it doesn’t mean you didn’t take it. Oh, but we just couldn’t help ourselves, could we? It was a good cover, silly, nonetheless, but still good.

The thing about this is I didn’t look at the whole inspiration thing as something bad. Am I seriously 1-4 in the last five months? Thanks for keeping track! I’m 90-15-1 or something since my debut in this fine federation so if you’re going by my last quarter, you’re right, my credit score wouldn’t show what it actually should be. Try not to read so much into what I’m saying because I’m being perfectly straight with you. No hidden messages or spooky metaphors. No ominous texts drawn in the mirror. Calm down. I never said you were aspiring to be just like me. I never said that you wanted to BE me. I just said that I inspired you. I think it’s quite interesting that no matter what anyone loads in their gun you take the barrel and shove it straight down your throat. Challenging every challenge whether you could end up with a hole in the back of your head or not. Pulling the trigger just to hear the click. Are you accustomed to finding that empty chamber each time? Have you grown used to the same old dose? That’s around the time the one that gets ya comes along. But no, that won’t happen to you, will it? You’re in control each time. You can handle anything. You look back and rely on all the previous examples where you survived. You can claim that nothing has changed and disregard the possibility that someone has found something more to fight for than you.

You’ll have to add another one to your checklist. Sudden change results in adolescent behavior. You’re acting like a child, man. Uh oh, is that more weak sauce for your weak sauce? It’s true, weak or not. If I tell you the stove is hot, you’re going to slam your own face down on it because I said not to? If I tell you to look both ways before crossing the road, you’ll walk backwards, but, of course, ever forward, right? If I draw over to point out the difference between the truth and the pretty portrait that you’ve painted for all of us, you’ll rip it to shreds. You can’t stand when you’re the one being led forward, even if it doesn’t appear that way to everyone else. You can’t handle when the narrative changes against your favor and you’re scrambling for a solution yourself that doesn’t just appear for you.

Things have to be YOUR way. They have to fit what you’re saying and doing or you crash, burn, bang, whoop, wang it until it fits into your square hole. Someone has to be there to set the ball on the tee for you or you just swing aimlessly at everything whether it’s in your path or not. Past, present, future… Ever forward? It doesn’t matter if it was something I said five months ago or something I did three months ago. It doesn’t matter if we’ve even agreed to move past all of this… That’s called desperation. That’s called freaking out. That’s called throwing everything including the kitchen sink, just to be safe. That’s called leaving your night light on. You’ll praise your reckless behavior, because it works, right? You’ll credit it and believe that because it has worked so well that it just must work every single time, huh? It certainly works better than anything else I’ve done, right?! Chris Page apparently saw through all of it and just because he held the tools doesn’t mean he knew how to use them. Just because someone sees through all of your BS and doesn’t capitalize on it doesn’t mean that someone can’t come along, learn from their past, move ever forward in your direction, and force feed you your own words. King slayer. Dock Eater (go ahead). This place has been full of mountain tops and it would not be the first time I’ve fallen off climbing to one. I recognize my defeats. I recognize my flaws. I recognize each time I’ve fallen on my face and I’ve gotten up. I’ve dusted myself off. I, too, have survived. I’m a known climber, myself, if you weren’t paying attention. I’ve caused my own flames and I know how to do this as well as anybody. I am capable of it all, too, and any time I step forward, regardless of this ever so forward progression, I can stop it. I will stop it. I will stop you.

But that just can’t be, can it? Look at the score people!

I know the score. You of all people shock ME to continue over and over again on what’s happened before. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not whiting anything out. I’m not ignoring or downplaying May Day or War Games and I don’t believe they were flukes. That’s when que sera, sera started, remember? Whatever will be, will be! I told you that and you liked it so much it's become your mantra. I also made it clear right away that I’m not going to dwell or reflect on any of this. No pissing contest. I clearly stated from the start I needed a minute or two to focus and shine a light on those few things then I would move forward from it. Ever so forward, right? What happened then doesn’t matter now. Corey Smith and all of your other wonderful little friends, forget them, unless you have already. You admit you haven’t been there for them, so good. If you still want to talk about them, it’s fine, too! I’m not here to tell you what to talk about. I’m just following what I thought was ever forward. I figured if this is a chase, like you say, if I continue ever forward I’m going to catch up with you eventually, right? But I’m looking at it as less of a chase and more of a race, F.Y.I.

Ya know, I’m surprised after everything you’re still trying to bounce things off of me like you are. Talking about going back to things that work, huh? Yeah… Heh… You know some things about that, don’t ya? I recognize the same panic button from the first time we clashed. And I don’t know where you get your information about my “rules” and this “OG DOC” character… What rules? What rules do I follow? And I also don’t need an “F-Bomb” to force emphasis on nearly every point I’m trying to make. I think it’s kind of a waste of words and if overused, sounds a little trashy… And enough about your book. I'll throw it away like I did the first time you tried handing it over. I told you I didn’t want it to begin with, but I was trying to make up for that by taking a dive into it now. It just doesn’t seem like we can catch up on the same page, can we?

And you can talk about War Games all you want, too. Count it against me. Add it to your list of amazing feats and feasts. What is it you would like me to say about it? You’ve been giving it to me about Chris Chaos enough and, YEAH, I’ve known his worth for a while. Maybe siding with him, win or lose, isn’t something I enjoy bringing up a lot. Would you? That’s one more thing I gave a crooked eye towards Duke over, but que sera, sera. Not only has he lived at the heel of my boot for years, but it’s Chris Chaos, I don’t even know what to say? …. Where has he been living from your perspective? In your bowels? I hope he gives you colon cancer. My point is that my War Games experience was nothing like the merry group of misfit super friends that bonded at summer camp. So, could we focus on each other and Relentless a little bit more INSTEAD of the two things that you're holding over my head? Plus, I think we’ve run Chris Chaos through the mill enough and I don’t think bringing up Corey Smith’s injury is a good idea, right now, either. Although, at least one of us needs to stay focused not only on each other but that little snake, as well. Yeah, side note? I was calling him the snake, not you. You don’t slither, you stomp. You don’t hiss, you roar. I'll give you enough of that credit. Stop reading so much into what I say. Or read better? I don’t know what happened there. Anyway, who knows how extensive that injury is, right?

Heh, don’t think I’m going to jump on the bandwagon here and threaten the ol’ cash-in for Corey. I don’t know if Corey would take that route with you or not, because he’s weird like that. He would most definitely ME. Hehehe. But unlike everyone else I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about. Oh geez, not that you would be concerned anyway…. So, with the possibility of Corey Smith dicking you over pretty much nothing, why not focus on keeping your head at Relentless a little more? You’re not surviving this one if you’re looking back the entire time. I’m focused on you; not your friends, not my friends, not War Games, and definitely not Chris Chaos… I learned from May Day. It’s not that I didn’t take you seriously back then, either. I love these assumptions, ladies and gentlemen. I said I’d make no excuses and I won’t. Pull another tape from a few months ago if you like, but I’m tired of listening to you hit the playback button. The path has led through many people along the way, including myself, to lead to THIS point. You can keep mocking the end, but it’s going to come one way or another, whether you welcome it or not. If you ARE the end? I’m the beginning. The beginning of something new, yet familiar. I’ve been down this path before, I know exactly how it feels and as I said before I’ve been a fool to not crave it again until now. These threats flood in nonstop and fall flat, don't they? The same old things over and over again... But, disguise your uncertainty all you like, but you know that I could quite possibly be the one. Surviving... Surviving, indeed.