The scene opens to a darkened, silent room. Hundreds of chairs are organized in rows, at each chair is seated a person clad in a white robe and crimson mask similar to Titan’s. At the front of the gathering Titan, shirtless and bloody, is seated in a large, steel throne elevated above the rest. Resting atop Titan’s head is a crown made of barbed wire and twisted nails, various barbs pierce the mask leaving jagged holes. The camera zooms in to reveal several steady flowing streams of blood coming from underneath the mask, running down his steadily heaving chest. The camera circles behind Titan and comes to a rest behind him.

“They all clamor for it.”

Titan reaches up and grips his mask tightly.

“Yet they do not understand it.”

With a quick jerk, the mask splits in two and falls to the ground. The back of Titan’s head leans back, still clad in the spiked crown, and rests against the chair.

“No. These fools are blinded by the shine of the crown, the allure of the throne. Too blinded, to see the treacherous and bloodstained path that lies before them. Have they no concept of war? Of struggle? This story is one that has been told time and again, century after century: The never-ending quest for power. It is inevitable that man realizes his shortcomings in the presence of a position of merit, and that he will risk life and limb to claim it...despite having no Earthly need. Tell us, John Austin. Morbid Angel. Lazarus. Mr. Vagina--what, exactly, do you intend to do with the XWF’s crown?”

The crowd begins to laugh in unison, silencing themselves at the raise of Titan’s hand.

“John Austin. Former Ark Champion. Former Thunderbowl winner. Former US champion. Formerly...someone. And now look at you. Pathetic. You give the appearance that you dabble in the world of sadomasochism, but it is apparent that you are a lowly coward who poses in leather for the camera and nothing more. Do you wish to experience the true life of a masochist? Do you have the stomach?”

Titan reaches up and firmly presses his hand against the spiked crown, shredding the flesh on his head along with his head.

“Darkness, John. Darkness. Really? Flipping a switch and huddling next to a cartoon night light praying for the sun to rise, is not living in darkness. You live in fear. Fear of never reaching relevancy. Fear of real pain. And, perhaps most disturbingly, fear of Ezekiel Carter. That’s right John, fear of a man whose body is failing him. A man that would serve as a punching bag in a high school locker room. A man that is better than nobody--but you. It’s time for you to admit it John: You hide in the shadows because you’re an embarrassment. A walking disappointment who shouldn’t be allowed to show his face unless it’s ensnared in the knotted end of a noose.”

“And yet, John Austin isn’t the most pathetic entry into this match, is he Mr. Radio? The man who has never met a challenge he couldn’t run away from. All the sudden you believe you have what it takes to be the King of the XWF? You’re a joke without a punchline. A sniveling baby with no sense of exactly how pathetic he really is. May we offer you a suggest, Mr. Radio? When John Austin hangs himself from the rafters in whatever hellhole he dwells in, take notes. Make sure you record, in detail, how to tie the knot. How long to make the rope. Where you should place it. The sound of that worthless neck snapping at the moment when the universe decides it’s playing for keeps.”

“And then do exactly what he showed you.”

The audience members all stand and slowly begin clapping.

“Do you see that Radio? Something that people will finally applaud you for.”

“Ahhh… and then there’s Eli’s boys. Lazarus and Manpig, what a couple of fools. What do these glorified testicle polishers believe will happen if they manage to capture the crown from Theo? Do they think that Eli is just going to be happy for them? Throw them a backwoods celebration, complete with squirrel meat and a lubricated sheep hole? No. He’s going to demand that his little pets lay down for him so he can crown himself King. Or even more hilarious, the thought that Eli becomes king before the winner can exercise his opportunity to challenge for the crown. Then what, Manpig? Will you stand in Eli’s face and demand that he gives you your shot? Lazarus, do you believe you could bring yourself to stab the man for his crown--much like the stunt you pulled on us when we were moments away from choking away your consciousness? Again, you will lay down. The way of the Congregation.”

Titan stands from his throne, blood still flowing down his body. The audience members each pull a knife from under their robes and hold it out in front of themselves.

“Do you fools understand what it means to rule? To hold the very lives of those who depend on you, in your hands--it is not a task for just anyone.”

The audience members each place the blade of their knives over their hearts.

“We, however, do not fit the same mold as these unworthy louts. We are fully aware of the trials of the ruling class. We shall win our opportunity to face the King, whether it be Theo or Eli. And we will beat them. We shall commit regicide with a smile on our face and a dagger in their heart. Our ascension to the mantle of King is a guarantee. No coward, delusional time traveler or washed up X-Treme champion can change this.”

Titan snaps his fingers. The audience members groan as they plunge their knives into their chests. One by one they begin to fall to the floor, drawing a quiet laugh from Titan.

“A war lingers in the XWF, and as the suitors to the throne wear themselves thin we grow stronger. Theo concerns himself with Eli’s approach to the throne. Eli concerns himself with Theo’s occupation of the throne. Neither realizes that they are but placeholders for the true King. We have arrived to the XWF, and now we begin our ascent to it’s apex.”

Titan stands and surveys the mass of dead followers. Their robes all stained with blood, he makes his down the middle of the room with the camera in tow. After passing several bodies, a single hand reaches up and grabs Titan’s leg. The man gasps and sputters, coughing up blood as he attempts to speak. Titan kneels down and places his hand on the knife protruding from the man’s chest. He can only mouth the words ‘Thank you,’ as Titan plunges the knife deeper into the man, sending his head crashing down to the floor. The scene fades to black as Titan’s laughter begins to grow louder.

1X - GOAT.