"Has the world gone mad?" he asked the dark, receiving naught but silence in return.

It was back into the black with them. With Zahra trailing him, Mystica slipped the boards of the abandoned house up and crumbled inside. His darker-skinned compatriot was not far behind, lugging with her a cord-tied maroon bag, which she handed to the Sleeping God before she herself managed to step over the short windowsill and emerge from the night into a place far darker.

At the end of Auburn Drive in Arkham, the house had once been a lovely beacon and pride of the neighborhood, acting as a sort of trail marker for the Miskatonic Rail Line, which had seen its heyday in 1920, when Aldous Masters, a philanthropist, had donated a large amount of money to the Miskatonic Valley Transportation Board. But now, the rail line was little more than a memory and a few assorted bits of track, whereas all the other, less sturdily nailed-down rail bits had been stolen by desperate men only 9 years after the railway's opening. The Great Depression had robbed Arkham of all its glories, including the stately Whalestoe Manor -- that shining beacon of architectural beauty at the end of Auburn Drive. It now stood empty and bleak, like a haunted bit of man's vain effort to mark the place where they had once had glory. It was the sentinel of humanity's ghost.

"Can't say, really," Zahra replied, trying to look around, but finding the darkness much too thick, like a coating of armor around her eyes.

"I can," Mystica replied, his voice far off in front of Zahra, as though he had been able to traverse the inky black. "The world has completely gone mad, and I had nothing to do with it, surprisingly."

Though she could not see him, she could picture him. The new face of fear. Odd how it had reminded her of a neighbor she had once; that poor man with the scars on his wrists. Now he had the same scars -- little cracks in time taking her back to those summers at her aunt's house near Philadelphia, dreaming that maybe one day, she'd marry someone like the kind neighbor who sometimes left her poems tied to the branches of the trees she liked to climb. Back then, that man had been so much younger, but still so very, very dead inside. There was a coldness in those eyes; a sorrow her younger self had been unable to comprehend. But now, with Mystica's gaze, she could see it again. The cracks stood wide open like slits across the wrist, oozing forth that sorrow. It stained the chipped wooden floors upon which they now walked.

"It's bloody laughable," Mystica continued, his voice now even more distant than before, as though he had gone up a story. But Zahra hadn't heard any steps. He moved like a phantom across the layout of the abandoned house, haunting the footprints of where others had once stepped.

"Placing me against these creatures," he snickered. "Havok. Elisha. One a rambling caveman from the stone age who can barely speak English...and the other one's Elisha.

It's proof that perhaps the energies that control all of this creation have a sense of humour. Thinking that those two might prove a threat to me. Last week, I had two actual threats. This week, threw me a bone. It's a treat to be able to wipe my boots on these dogs. Zero was at least worthy of beating me. Havok? I'd have to be severely mentally before he'd manage to defeat me.

The boy's had every opportunity to claim some sort of historic moment in this company, and yet...he's done butt-fuck all. Won a chance at the king, and didn't come close enough to even kiss Maddy's boots! Or shoes. Fuck, I'm not looking at his feet, you figure it out! Either way, Havok's had his opportunity. And he lost. And lost. And lost. I can't really recall the last time he's won anything meaningful. Then again, I usually don't pay attention to those who are below me. It doesn't take much effort to beat down the underlings. But Havok's been getting shots at men who actually matter in this world. Like Sebastian Duke, the friendless ghost. Havok lost to him. Not once, but twice. Must be nice to be handed a match against a man who is respected. Maybe, just maybe, Havok got close enough to Duke so that LJ could lick the sweat off Duke's armpits. At least then he'd know what greatness tastes like -- for he'll never know otherwise! He's a little puppy that I'll enjoy kicking halfway across the arena.

I mean, the man's not even clever! He started himself off in this place with his little, uh...Extreme Revolution? Right? That was his thing? I can't really remember, because that made about zero impact before imploding on itself. He even got desperate and asked Gilmour to join him! Peter Gilmour, a man who has become a parody of himself as of late! And Havok expected to make an impact. If I might make another bit of a dog metaphor, I believe that revolutions are a lot like sick dogs -- they get put down. But lo and behold! No one even needed to put down the Extreme Revolution! They crumbled under the weight of their own idiocy! When Havok and that fucking joke Cam Lang had a 2 on 1 advantage against Eli, they couldn't take him down! What?! What kind of odds do you need, Havok? Should I arrive at the arena Thursday night after a quadruple amputation so that you might stand a modicum of a chance? Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus, isn't that sort of his thing now? He's a...preacher? How many fucking people are under the delusion that they're some sort of messiah figure now? Havok, Austin... See what I mean about the clever thing? See, those two saw Eli working the preacher thing out well and thought they'd leech on and suck the blood of success dry. Thing is, it didn't fucking work. They sound more like the fucking homeless guy you meet at the corner on your way to pick up milk. Yeah, they speak of some coming end, maybe try to shake your hand, but let's face it...in the end, they're still a pair of crazy, possibly mentally ill bits of shit on the ass-crack of society.

Lackluster creativity is a bitch, isn't it? Not clever enough to pave their own way. Maybe Havok figured, if he couldn't beat Eli, why not just steal his entire spiel? But the problem is...Eli is charismatic and actually a bit clever. LJ Havok is about one lead paint chip away from being given a helmet for his own protection. Please, mate. Tell me more about the plan you have for us all. I've had more convincing Jehovah's Witnesses come to my door and tell me about Jesus than you. Are you even a Jesus fan? Or did you just decide to make up a religion to follow? Because Festivus is right around the corner, and I've already ordered my Festivus pole. Actually, here's a good one!"

There comes the sound of something snapping from upstairs, and Zahra jumps in surprise. The snapping sound is followed by the unmistakable sound of water dripping onto the floor. Mystica calls out from above in an excited voice.

"Zahra, cancel my Amazon order! This one's perfect! A bit damp, but perfect otherwise! This will truly be a Festivus for the rest of us!

The fuck am I saying? This body's a bit out of it. I'm getting some feedback in the cortexes. Unfortunately, I don't think I have a receipt for this one...I wonder what David's been up to?"

Achievements

• 1x Tag Team Champion
  
• August 2013 Superstar of the Month (Thank you all so much!)
  
• 1x US Champion
  
• 1x X-treme Champion