After the epic battle that resulted in a loss to Chris Chambers, Dillinger was sent to the hospital. An actual hospital too. Not Frodo's basement like he assumed the destination for injured wrestlers would have been. Imagine that. Obviously, this meant the dwarf had his hands full with the others they sent him and Dillinger was one of the lucky few, that made it to a real deal emergency care center instead. Although, had it been up to Dillinger, he would have told them to avoid the trouble altogether. Sure, he looked bad at that moment but his condition would've improved eventually. Not immediately, but far quicker than it would have taken others to heal in his position. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a state that made it possible for him to relay that message, what with being unconscious and all. So he was patched up and shipped off, without a second thought edgewise. Only for him to wake up a few hours later, completely fine. A medical marvel as some might call it. Dillinger sat up in his hospital bed, looked down at his paper night gown and sighed. Rising quickly, he then began the search for his pants as a nurse arrived and immediately rushed to his side. Apparently, she didn't get the memo that he was fine.

"Sir, you need to lie down. You've recently been through an incredible ordeal and the doctors think you might have a fractured skull, on top of suffering a concussion."

"Is that so?"

Dillinger halted his movements and turned towards the frantic nurse with a smile.

"Yes, that's absolutely so! I had just started my shift when they brought you in and I assisted in the examination process. You could barely be revived and even when you were, you would only pass out again, a few seconds later. There was talk of you possibly slipping into a coma and if that happened, you more than likely wouldn't have made it. Are you hearing me? You could have died!"

"I hear you and I understand what you're saying perfectly, but look at me. I'm standing and I'm looking for my pants. I think the time for worrying about my survival is through."

"I wouldn't say that. I don't know what's going on with you. Sure, you seem okay now, but that doesn't mean that you're in the clear and don't warrant concern. With the amount of damage your body sustained, there's no way you're back to 100% this quickly. So seriously, you need to sit down... at least and let me check you out, before you do anything else. Please."

"Fine."

Dillinger dropped into a sitting position on the bed.

"Do what you gotta do."

The nurse took a deep breath and lifted one of the bandages up from his forehead. His entire head was extensively bandaged but from what she could see, there wasn't any more bleeding. Against her better judgment, she then retrieved a small pair of scissors from her pocket and cut the bandages away. Revealing a lot of dried, caked on blood but besides that, there was nothing else to be seen. There weren't any visible wounds or contusions of any kind. It was shocking and she couldn't help but gasp as she took a step back, meeting Dillinger's clear and very coherent eyes with hers, in the process.

"How?"

"I heal quick. It's a new thing I do and no, I can't explain why or how it happens. It just does. I'm still getting used to it myself but I have to say, it's come in handy."

"But that's not normal!"

Dillinger couldn't help but laugh as he rose from the bed and returned to the search for pants.

"I... I... I should schedule further tests. X-Rays. Your skull... it could still be fractured."

"Listen lady, I really doubt that but if you like, I can come back for those. See, I have another match scheduled for this coming Wednesday and I can't be wasting anymore time in this hospital. I'm fighting Chris Chaos and my title is on the line. It should be a barrel of monkeys. You wanna come? I'll save you a seat."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll come to the match."

"Okay. Wait. No. I can't do that. I barely know you. Plus... I hate wrestling. I deplore senseless violence."

"Aww. That's too bad."

"People get seriously hurt doing that stuff."

"Ah, but not for long. At least not in my case, anyway."

Dillinger discovered his pants and the rest of his bloody clothes, stuffed in a bag that was then shoved onto the top shelf of the closet in his room and proceeded to get dressed, while the nurse stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn't right. He wasn't right. She needed to call someone. Now. She picked up the phone but by that time, Dillinger was fully clothed and he placed his hand on the switch hook, thus putting a stop to her telephone endeavors.

"Look, I'm fine. Just let me leave and focus on your other patients. Y'know, the ones that really need your aid. I'm sure there's some of those around here and if there isn't, you'll have your hands full when I send Chris Chaos your way on Wednesday. I promise. In fact, that guy might need a whole team of doctors and nurses to see to his injuries, when I'm done with him. With luck, you'll be one of them and he won't be walking away after a quick nap, like I'm about to do. Trust me."

Dillinger removed the handset from the nurse's hand and placed it in its cradle. Gently patting her head before he turned and made his way to the door.

"Wait."

"For?"

"You can't leave without an okay from your doctor."

"Haha! Watch me!"

Dillinger exclaimed with an exuberant laugh as he sauntered through the door, without looking back. From there, he maneuvered his way through the maze of hallways and seemingly endless corridors, until he found the exit and then he passed through that too. Stepping out into the direct sun, he gazed toward the parking lot and realized, he didn't have a car. Not there at least. This was a conundrum, alright. Dillinger retrieved a cigarette from the smashed pack in his pocket and swiftly fired it up. Only to see that it was cracked in half. Utterly useless. Dillinger flung it to the ground and tossed the crushed pack on top of it before he met them both with a stomp. With an annoyed huff, he walked off towards the bus stop but was halted in his journey, when a fancy limousine roared up to the hospital and blocked his path. What the fuck was this? The back passenger door flung open and there sat Queen Valeska, in all her splendor. With a goblet of wine in her hand and an inviting smile decorating her lips, she silently beckoned Dillinger to enter the limousine and much to her pleasure, he complied. Then the limo backed away from the hospital and tore off down the road, just as quickly as it arrived.

---

"Chris Chaos! "

"I have to say, with all the name dropping and reminiscing you do about your old federation, it's a wonder you ever left. You're like the surly old man in the corner of the bar, babbling about his yesteryears and the good ol' days, except you're not some old fart drinkin' himself to death in the back of a tavern. So what gives? Did the owner of that company take your cherry or something? Why is it that every time you open that mouth of yours and cut a promo, you're constantly living in the past? It's all about the here and now, man and if you can't get that, you're not going to last. You're going to be eviscerated by guys like me, who don't give a shit about your history. All I care about is who's in my path of destruction. This time it's you, next time it'll be someone else. The revolving door keeps turning but one thing stays the same. Me! And the amount of pain I get to cause. Win or lose, it makes no difference to me. I just want to make you suffer. See, I'm not a complicated man. It doesn't take much to please me. I only want to hurt you, really... really, bad. That's it."

"Anyway, now that I made that clear, I'd like to address a couple more topics of interest. Things you mentioned in your promo. Moments where you baffled me a bit, so I felt the need to point them out. You see, first you said this..."

Quote:"Beating you will put me well on my way to becoming the number one guy around here. Dillinger this match will define both of our careers. They will be talking about this match for years to come. It will forever etch our names in stone. Isn't that exciting?"

"And then you said this."

Quote:Beating you isn't an accomplishment, it is a stepping stone on my way to Scully. Nobody will remember this match. The only reason it has significance to me is because of the old Dillinger, in PW. But to anyone else, this is just an entertainment match where the better looking and more talented psychopath beats the less talented washed-up Dawson's Creek looking psychopath to within an inch of his worthless life.

"So which is it man? Will people talk about the match for years to come and etch our names in stone or will no one remember it? It can't be both. Did you forget what you said, literally only minutes after you said it? Are you bi-polar or something? It certainly sounds like you are the way you go from hot to cold like that. Did you used to be a woman? I mean, you kinda look like a chick and you're stuck in the past like females usually are, you also compared my looks to someone in Dawson's Creek. I think you might've been a woman at one point. It makes sense. You even have an issue with poop jokes and if that's not a dead give away right there, all the rest combined with that, practically confirms it. You even have a name that could be a shortened version of a female's name. Chris... Christine. Wow. The more I think about it, the more it seems like the truth. You used to be a woman and now, you're an overly effeminate man."

"Anyway, here's another fun quote from ya."

Quote:"You can make all the promo's you want about shit monsters and poop jokes---you will amount to less than shit at Warfare. You may be a big deal here....but I don't see you as anything other than just another victim....."

"One, I've never made a poop joke in my life. Two, I can't help it if the XWF camera men are like trained ninjas and they film me whenever they please. Once you sign up with the XWF, your life belongs to the XWF. Nothing is sacred, personal or off limits anymore. When you sign on the dotted line, everything is open to be filmed and broadcasted to the public. You of all people should know this, since they filmed you playing poker and ogling some chick in a casino. Which means, your life must be hella boring if that's what they resorted to filming. Seriously, you must have nothing going on, at all. After your fights are finished, you go home and watch reruns of tv shows that were taken off the air, more than a decade ago. That's how boring your life must be. No wonder you're so jealous of me. You wanna be me so bad, you're even resorting to calling yourself a murderer. Ahahahahaha! It's so sad, it's funny! You're fuckin' pathetic! And come Wednesday, you're going to find out the hard way, why you're really all talk and I'm all action!"

"See you in the ring... Christine."