The decision to move out of the city and into the woods makes Centurion look like a genius in moments like these.

After a long conversation with the mysterious Mr. Blue, followed by a victory over Calypso on Warfare, Centurion now had the ability to sit and relax while thinking about the events of the past two weeks. The world of professional wrestling has been shifting quickly as of late, and Centurion's place in the business is highly uncertain. Couple that with the vague comments made by Mr. Blue, and the insanity that is Centurion's career is available for all to see.

We open up on the back deck of Centurion's luxury cabin. There, we see Centurion sitting on a deck chair, with a cigar in an ashtray next to him, overlooking the lake. Surprisingly, he does not have a glass of scotch with him, but rather a can of Canada Dry ginger ale, proving that Centurion may, in fact, NOT be an alcoholic.

The glass sliding door behind him opens, and out onto the deck steps Nellie. Unlike her father, she does have an alcoholic drink in her hand, as well as an electronic tablet (brand unknown - no free ads). She sits down next to Centurion and sets her glass of wine on the table they share before scrolling through her tablet.

"Alright, here's what I found." Nellie begins in a factual tone. "Republican Bartholomew Lichter was elected as the Bradford County Controller in 2009 by defeating Democrat Jerry Salter with nearly 70% of the vote."

"Not a surprise." Centurion quickly responds. "Bradford County is a very Republican area."

"Even more so, post 2008." Nellie adds. "Searching for Jerry Salter online didn't yield a ton of results for me. There's about a thousand people named Jerry Salter. The only thing I did find was some old Facebook posts from 2009 made from non-private accounts accusing Salter of being aligned with someone named "Brian DiMarco", who is referred to as a "businessman of ill repute" and a "socialist agitator" by these people. There was a Brian DiMarco who invested in some Pilot Flying J gas stations in Eastern PA, but he has since sold them."

"Hmm." Centurion hums as he takes in all the information Nellie is laying on him. "So Mr. Blue likely found this same information that you did, and used it as his cover story."

"Perhaps." Nellie says as she sets her tablet down and picks up her glass of wine. "Or, Mr. Blue IS Brian DiMarco. Remember, you have no idea what his real name is."

"Also true." Centurion says, attempting to piece everything together in his mind and come to a conclusion. He picks up his cigar and takes another hit before placing it back in the ashtray. "What do you think? Is he telling the truth?"

Nellie takes a sip of her wine before lowering the glass. "I honestly don't know. Like, I know he's a snake. That's how he's gotten what he has in his life. But at the same time…" Nellie thinks for a second. "Why would he go through all that effort? What does he get out of it?"

"Influence over me?" Centurion ponders out loud. "Power? Access?"

"He already has access to you." Nellie reminds Centurion. "He's been able to find you pretty much anywhere you go. And he knows how you are - you're not going to "owe him one". If anything, he still owes you for all the money he took from you. And besides…" Nellie pauses before she's able to say anything that would get her in trouble.

"Besides what?" Centurion questions as he raises his eyebrows.

Nellie takes another sip of her wine before taking a deep breath. "Besides…there's nothing that he said that's wrong."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Centurion raises his voice as he pressed Nellie on the subject.

"You haven't exactly been racking up victories as of late." Nellie says in a confident, authoritative voice. "And you can't blame it on the surgery, either. Since you won the UGWC World Title, you haven't exactly been pushing like you normally do. You've gotten…"

"I've gotten what?!" Centurion interrupts, his voice raising in volume. "Say it."

"You've gotten lazy!"

"I have like hell!" Centurion yells. "I take my career VERY seriously! You think I like losing to Michael Graves? You think bombing out of the Plump Pigeon was FUN for me?! I know I've been struggling, and it eats me up inside."

"Oh yeah?" Nellie says, calmly. "What do you know about your opponent this week?"

"Um…" Centurion's voice lowers as he thinks about who he's facing. "He's a rookie. His fucking name is Goth. He can't be too tough."

"See, THERE it is!" Nellie jumps out of her seat as she points at Centurion. "That is exactly what I'm talking about! There was a time when you would enter these matches, and you would know EVERY! SINGLE! THING! about them! You knew their moves, their style, the opponents they've faced, who trained them, who they're fucking, what they had for BREAKFAST! And now look! You don't watch matches! You barely watch promos! You say you take this seriously, but then you get paired against these wrestlers that you think you're superior to, and you completely blow them off. You do the exact thing you tell younger wrestlers NOT to do!"

"That's not true." Centurion says in a defensive tone.

"Dad…"

"No, no!" Centurion now stands up and begins to pace as he gets defensive. "I'll accept a lot of criticisms about my career. I'll accept that I've lost a step, and I haven't properly adjusted to the new style, and that I'm flat out old and washed up, I will NOT be accused of being lazy!"

"But you're NOT washed up!" Nellie yells back. "That's the problem! You can't just blame everything on your age! You're one of the most talented wrestlers in the world, but instead of going out there and grinding every week, you want to sit here and smoke your cigars. You were able to climb back to the top of the wrestling world because you were desperate, but you lost that desperation."

Centurion stands facing Nellie, irate at what she has said, but unable to find the words to respond to her. The more he searches for these words, the more it becomes clear to him that she's right. He thinks about everything he knows about Goth, and his mind draws a blank. If Centurion were mentoring someone, he would tell them they were in trouble.

The tense moment is broken up by the sound of an engine coming closer to the cabin. Driving along the lake, just in view of the back deck, is Ruby on her dirt bike, with Erin sitting behind. Erin's laughter and joy can clearly be heard as the dirt bike drives by, it slowly goes out of view and, not long after, out of sound distance. "If your girlfriend convinces my fiance to buy a dirt bike, I swear to God…"

"You're right." Centurion says, interrupting Nellie in a defeated tone. "I don't want to admit it, but you're right. I'm not doing everything I can to improve."

Nellie stands, looking at her father. She was expecting a bigger fight than what she got, but she is also relieved that Centurion was able to come to his senses quickly.

"So?" Centurion continues. "You're the manager. You're the navigator of this sinking ship. What should we do?"

Nellie walks over to the table and grabs Centurion's cigar. She takes a puff as Centurion just stands there, not saying anything. "First things first - we get every piece of information we can about Goth. I'm talking matches he's had in other places, social media accounts, EVERYTHING. Lichter, Graves, Cheney - everyone else that isn't Goth takes a backseat. They don't exist. There's only one enemy in your mind, and you're facing him on Wednesday night." Nellie pauses as she looks out into the lake, knowing that the next thing out of her mouth was going to upset her father. "And…"

Nellie's words start to trail off, causing Centurion to glance over towards her and cock his head to the side. "And?" Centurion asks, trying to get her to finish her statement.

"And we need to meet with Mr. Blue." Nellie blurts out as quickly as possible.

"Alright. Cool." Centurion says, sarcastically. "Let me just call him up on his cell phone and invite him to my house. Maybe I'll forward him a list of my insecurities while I'm at it."

"He probably already has that." Nellie responds, only half joking.

"Nell…"

"There's no reason for him to reach out to you like he did!" Nellie yells, cutting Centurion off. "He already knows everything about you. He has all your personal information. He's taken you for millions in the past. If this was about gaining access to you, he would be wasting his time. I think he legitimately wants to help you, and there isn't anyone better better equipped to help you then someone who has been trying to exploit your weaknesses for years."

Centurion angrily scrunches his face and looks to respond, but he just grabs his can of ginger ale and turns away from Nellie. He takes two steps forward, but stops. He downs the rest of the can and crushes it in his hand before turning back around to face Nellie.

"Alright." Centurion says, conceding. "Get a hold of him. But we meet him at the Rabbit, and we wait until AFTER the Goth match. And if I get the sense that something is even remotely wrong, we fucking bail. Got it? I refuse to walk into this situation in a position of weakness."

"If we meet at the Rabbit, he'll be surrounded by people who will kill for you." Nellie says, calmly. "He knows that, too, and yet he still made that offer the last time you met with him."

Centurion takes a deep breath before gesturing over to Nellie, who passes the cigar over to him. He takes a puff as Nellie grabs her glass of wine and takes a sip. Centurion, meanwhile, begins to think a little more deeply about his upcoming match. The name, "Goth", begins to spark some memories in his mind. He thinks about someone he heard about wrestling years ago with a similar name.

"Nell…" Centurion begins to speak as a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Do we know if this guy is from the Netherlands by chance?"

—---Your sex and your dope is all that we're fed—---

We reopen on the grounds of Centurion's luxury cabin in the Poconos, only now, it's night time. The camera faces away from the cabin, the light of which barely makes Centurion's face visible. Centurion is dressed in an all black suit, pacing back and forth in the woods, gathering his thoughts. After a few seconds, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a silver cigarette holder. He snaps it open and grabs one of his black clove cigarettes, which he places in his mouth, before sliding the cigarette case back in his pocket.

"I have to admit, most of this setup has been done to make Goth feel a little more comfortable…but the cloves are actually what I smoke. That's just a coincidence."

Centurion reaches into his pants pockets and pulls out a box of wood matches. He strikes a match and lights his cigarette before taking a step forward. He holds the match in front of him, which illuminates a tiki torch, allowing for more light to illuminate the area. He shakes the match to put out the flame before tossing it onto the ground in front of him.

"I'm going to be honest - I feel a bit like a fool right now. When I first saw this matchup, I thought I was facing some new wrestler with a generic "I'm sad" personality that has nothing of note to offer. I didn't recognize the name. "Goth" is so damn generic that it could literally be anyone who hangs out at a Hot Topic and whines about how it's gotten to be "too corporate." I paid absolutely no attention to him. My mind has been firmly placed on the other opponents that are in front of me…

…But then I thought more about it. And I did my research. And I realized I was wrong. I was so ridiculously wrong, and if the XWF knew what I knew, this would not be some random match on an episode of Warfare, but rather the main event of a super show. He's not some random, generic, newbie.

He's a legend.

…it's good to finally meet you, Gerrit."

Centurion grins as he takes a hit of his cigarette and exhales the smoke.

"Obviously I don't know you personally. There was never a time when we were in the same company together, and I only followed you from a distance, but I was aware of the work you were doing in GWA. Hell, it was hard not to be aware, especially considering the professional wrestling landscape back then.

For those of you who might be newer to this business, back in the mid-2000s, there was a certain…type of wrestler that was dominating pro wrestling. Those wrestlers were usually big dudes. They went by one word names. And, most importantly…they were dark and spooky."

Centurion takes another hit of his cigarette and looks up into the sky as he exhales. He lets out a slight laugh as he lowers his head and looks back into the camera.

"During the time Gerrit was dominating the GWA, we had our own scary boy running roughshot through the XWF - his name was Cyren."

Centurion gags a little as he places his hand over his mouth.

"Just saying the word out loud gives me a visceral reaction.

Now, I'm certainly not saying Goth and Cyren are the same. I would never insult Gerrit so much as to suggest such a thing. I only mention him to explain how I knew about Gerrit's run - there were a lot of comparisons that occured during that time. In fact, there were some fans who were running their own "what if" scenario. What if our spooky boy were to face THEIR spooky boy?

There are differences, though. MASSIVE differences. The fear of Cyren came from things he did outside the ring - the killing and the mutilation, that sort of thing. Goth, however, was feared because of his physical power and abilities in the ring. He stood his ground against any and all contenders, and he did it without complaint. It's part of the reason why he's still wrestling at the highest level, and Cyren is face down in some ditch in Cincinnati right now. Oh, and there's one really big thing that separates Goth from him, and every other wrestler that has tried to be dark and scary.

GOTH isn't a fraud."

Centurion takes another hit, and slowly walks towards a tree as he exhales. He leans up against the tree in a casual way as he twirls the cigarette around in his hand.

"So many others come through here, trying to play mind games with their opponents by scaring the piss out of them. It's one of the oldest troupes in this business. I've seen zombies, vampires, cannibals, whiny Nazis werewolves, and sadistic, psychopathic assholes, but there's one thing they ALL had in common - every single one of them was full of shit. It was a mask they put on in an effort to hide themselves from the world. They acted a certain way because reality was too hard for them to deal with.

But that's not the case with you, Gerrit, is it? I believe you are the type of person who spends the majority of his time in the dark. I believe you are someone who enjoys the black arts, and the fear of the unknown. I believe everything you say and do comes directly from your heart, which is admirable. You're not a copycat. You are the real deal. Which makes me wonder…why are you still going by "Goth"?"

Centurion takes another hit as he walks forward from the tree and closer to the camera. He has a genuinely confused look on his face as he asks the previous question.

"I mean, I understand why you used that name in the first place. You were young, English isn't your first language, and you needed a name to accurately describe yourself. There are a lot of cringeworthy wrestling names out there. And I also understand that you built a legacy for yourself as Goth in the GWA, so of course you're still going to use that name there. All of that is fine.

But this isn't GWA. You're trying to spread your wings elsewhere. There's no reason to hold on to that generic ass name. In fact, Gerrit is far more badass. I bet you'd sell a shitload of merch if you decided to just use your real name; however, I'm not your fucking manager, so you're free to completely ignore me if you so desire.

Behind it all, though, is something incredibly relatable - something that all wrestlers, no matter how they present themselves, or how many years in the business they may have under their belt, or what their lives were prior to entering the business, can understand.

The desire to build a legacy."

Centurion takes one last hit of his cigarette before tapping it against a tree to put out the ashes. He crushes the rest of the cigarette butt just to make sure, and places the butt onto a branch in the tree.

"We all think about it. It's why we fight for titles and go for records. We want to leave behind a resume that will be talked about for generations. Every single pro-wrestler has a massive ego. We want people to chant our names long after we're dead, even if we're not around to hear it. But there is a difference. As the minutes start counting down on your career, you need to be realistic in your expectations. I will always be remembered as one of the most prolific XWF wrestlers of all time, but I also understand that there are parts of the pro wrestling world that have never seen me in the ring. I do work for other companies these days in order to prove to myself that I can compete against the best, but I know, when it's ultimately time to bury me, the most important aspect of my career has been what I've done in the XWF.

You, Goth? You're obsessed with legacy. You're not content with just being well known in one place. You need to be idolized everywhere, and you need your legacy to live on long after you're unable to compete. It's why you're in XWF now. It's why you've put in all that work over at Sin City. It's why you're attempting to make a superstar out of Melissa - so anytime SHE succeeds, people will think of YOU.

Here's what I'll tell you, Gerrit - be careful what you wish for. You are currently in a position of strength in the XWF. Despite all you've accomplished elsewhere, and the years of work inside the ring that you've put in, most of this locker room doesn't know who you are. They still see you as nothing more than a rookie. You currently have the opportunity to fly under the radar and pick up victories while so many overlook you. The moment they start to realize who you are?"

Centurion steps forward and grabs the cap of the tiki torch.

"The target that will be painted on your back will be so large, it can be seen from space."

Centurion takes the cap and snuffs out the torch. He steps forward as the camera moves backwards, and the more Centurion walks, the closer to the cabin he gets, and thus, the more illuminated he becomes.

"And ultimately, that's why the darkness appeals to you so much, isn't it, Gerrit? Because in the absence of light, you could be anything. People fear what they do not know, and you are still unknown in the eyes of many in the XWF. So your desire for more glory, your obsession with everlasting greatness - it comes at a price. That darkness that has existed as a veil to you will be gone, and in its place will be a spotlight shining directly on you, illuminating you for all to see. That spotlight can show off your greatest strengths…

…and your biggest weaknesses.

For you, Gerrit, your weakness is your never ending need for respect. It makes you stubborn, and borderline delusional. You will go through Hell just to get people to sing your praises, and you'll allow your body to be absolutely ravaged before giving up because you refuse to show even the slightest hint of weakness. I'm sure you think of it as some sort of warrior spirit or viking mentality, but in the end…

You're no different than any douchebag bro in a college fraternity.

Are you as misogynistic? No. Do you drink pitchers of cheap light beer? Probably not. But you do think of yourself as an unbreakable god that can't be hurt. You see yourself as the main character in the story, and everyone else around you as supporting characters of your life. And you do wear a concerning amount of tank tops. Face it - you're a fuck boy, just older and with an accent."

Centurion reaches back into his suit jacket pocket, and this time he pulls out an unspecified coin. He looks at it as he turns it front to back.

"I don't know what you have cooked up for this match, Gerrit…but I do have a sinking suspicion. You don't want to just simply win this match. You don't want to be seen as a fluke. No, you want to show everyone that you are a tough son of a bitch, and so you're going to pick something that will leave no doubt. I Quit match? Submission match? Throw in the towel, maybe? It will be something like that. I admire it, I really do…even if it is foolish.

Truth is, there is no reality that exists where you walk out feeling better about yourself. If you win the match? That won't satisfy that lingering doubt that exists in the back of your mind. All you will have done is completing the bare minimum in your mind. A straight up loss to me would be devastating to you. You would beat yourself up for months - YEARS - after the fact if I made you give up or beat you clean in some capacity. The ONLY WAY you walk out with any sort of moral victory is if I beat you by cheating. That way, you get to tell everyone that you would have won, had I not been a coward, and you give yourself motivation to build yourself up for a rematch. So…"

Centurion flips the coin, and catches it. He goes to place it on his palm, but instead, he slides it up the cuff of his jacket. He smiles as he looks back at the camera.

"I'm letting you decide, Gerrit. No excuses. No bullshit. You want to be a man? You want to prove your toughness? I'm going to let you do just that. I don't want there to be any doubt. If you're going to beat me, then I want you to do it without any sort of wacky gismos. I want to be able to look you in the eye and tell you you were the better man.

But I warn you, Gerrit. I'm not Latina Submission Machina. If you think you're going to just bully me around the ring, use your strength to push me around, and expect me to give up so I can avoid further punishment, you're in for a wild ride. I've been in the ring with a LOT of bad mother fuckers. I've looked in the face of pure evil, and laughed when they tried to intimidate me. I've walked that aisle and faced the toughest competitors to lace up the boots, and I've survived them all. I'm not coming into this match with the thought of mere survival - I'm coming to beat you. I have no interest in moral victories.

You and I, Gerrit - we are old souls. We've been at this a long time. As such, I know you don't have time for games. That is why I'm leaving the stipulations of this match in your hands. The opportunity to introduce yourself to a brand new audience is right in front of you. Will this be your shining moment? Will this be the night the XWF audience sees Goth as a legitimate contender? Or will this be the very first time, in your incredibly long and illustrious career, that you get to meet your…