---

---

---

I would have killed myself again if it took any longer. The Highlight magazines and crosswords just kept reproducing in a fashion that almost weirded me out, but it gave me something to do until my brain melted. I almost said 'fuck it' and lit up a smoke, but my pockets were suddenly empty. No explanation on that one. So after I spent three days looking for those in that tiny room, I figured I'd just give up smoking all together, when suddenly, my number miraculously approached!


003

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Chasing Wine and Spirits

---

Trevor was to the point of pacing back and forth for an eternity while waiting for his number to finally be called. As it finally approached, he waited in anticipation, when it finally ticked to "9217" he fell to his knees and kissed the ground as the window slid open in front of him.

He jumps up and dives onto the counter.

"You have NO idea how glad I am to see you."

Trevor leans in closer as the lady behind the desk, wide-eyed, buckles back in her seat.

"Um. Damnation papers, please?"

She looked like a smurf with her pale blue skin and dirty blonde hair. It made Trevor smile a moment before he realized what she had asked.

"What, now?"

She sighs.

"Your Damnation Certificate?"

Trevor looks confused and feels around in his pockets and through his coat. He pulls a small bundle of papers from his inner jacket pocket and places them on the desk.

"Didn't know those were there..."

The blue lady smiles and gathers them up and begins slapping some info into her little computer. Trevor looks around a bit as he impatiently bounces around leaning into the window.

"So, what's next here? Did I miss the bus? Pardon my French, but, what the fuck is going on here?"

"I'll be with you in a moment, sir."

She could have said that to anything. Trevor accepted it and gathered his mind for a moment, embracing the fact that he may finally be getting out of here.

---

---

Two suits share a water cooler in the office area of the top floor of the TOWER.

"So we just wait around till this fucker shows up or what?"

Says the young gentleman with the fine pressed suit. The old gentleman beside him looks over.

"Pretty much."

His suit is not finely pressed and he is the least bit hagred looking without the suit.

"Sounds like a waste to me. Why can't he just go up there and pick up something else, ya know?"

"Haha. We've tried that. It's not our first rodeo up here, ya know? I know you're kinda fresh on the top floor, so I'll let ya in on a few things. Just go in there and shut the fuck up, ya know?"

The young fellow looks confused.

"Just? Shut the fuck up?"

"I'm telling ya fella, there's a reason you gawt called up here. Just remember that. Yer replaceable."

The rest of the crew throughout the office begin filtering in through the large doube door at the far side of the office.

"Guess it's time to rock again!"

"That was a quick break... Fifteen minutes?"

The young executive bitches as he follows the flock into the large conferance room. Nearly all the seats are fool by the time he reaches his own. Once the last person from the office arrives, only one seat remained.

---

---

"Could I have a look at those?"

Trevor says as he leans in somemore through the window.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back, please."

The blue woman says as she hands the papers over. Trevor looks them over and it's just what he's suspected all along. As if the hole in the head didn't already give everything away, but he's been officially DAMNED.

"Eternal Goddamn-nation."

Trevor places the papers back inside the little window and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Awesome."

The blue lady finishes her thing and sends Trevor to the door to his right, that just appeared as it became available.

"Good luck."

She offers as he walks away. Trevor passes through and enters the outside. No more white rooms, blue people...

An alley, none the less, but outside. Face first, because, of course, he tripped. After gathering himself for a moment, he feels around in his pockets just for the sake of doing it.

His smokes are back.

"Thank God..."

He pulls one from the carton and places it in his mouth and lights it and just embraces the moment. He stands up and walks out to the open street where random pedestrians like himself walk through the streets. Dead people.

Dead people driving cars, dead people driving trucks, dead people selling shit along the street. Dead people.

Across the street is a small corner pub with that magical four letter word, "BEER", illuminated in the window.

"I could definitely use a fuckin' drink."

Trevor gawks at the huge city around him as he slowly steps out onto the street. As he reaches the center of the lane he's folded in half by what looked like a freight train inside a cloud of black smoke as he's sent tumbling a hundred feet down the road. The black cloud comes to a halt and ths smoke eventually clears...

"Watch where you're fucking going, dicksuck! Places to go!!!"

The screeching voice of a demidemon pierces Trevor's ears as he gets up from being railed by whatever it was... Trevor's eyes gain focus again as he begins staggering towards the noise. He stops and stares at a homeless looking, demonic creature sitting on a.... cockacycle? Dickbike? Motorcockle? A motorcycle shaped like a penis.

"Get the fuck outta the way, dickweed!"

The stranger revs up the engine and zooms up to Trevor forcing him out of the way. The stranger stops the vehicle beside him.

"Bitch."

"Listen buddy, YOU hit me."

The demonic stranger stares at Trevor from his 1666 Cockasawki and spits out his enormously large tongue and bites down on it so hard it squirts blood out like a sprinkler! He sucks in a mouthfull and spits blood all over Trevor's face, "EXCORCIST STYLE".

"The fuck?!"

Trevor screams as he staggers back rubbing the blood away from his eyes as it burns the shit out of him for some reason.

"Ow! What the hell?! Ow!?!"

Trevor attempts to wipe the blood from his face and clothes with his hands, only to burn his hands in the process. He looks back to the stranger as he has a gallon of vodka bottom up in his mouth.

*GLURG*

*GLUG*

He catches himself drooling at the sight and suddenly forgets about th entire incident. The stranger realizes such and offers Trevor a drink of his own, who gratefully obliges.

"Thanks, I needed that."

Trevor whispers as he pulls the bottle from his lips.

He hands the bottle back to the stranger.

"So where the hell are you getting to so fast, man?"

The demonic stranger just laughs at Trevor, then looks at him with a look of total seriousness.

"It's not that I was in a hurry, this dick rocket only goes six hundred and sixty-six miles per hour. No faster, no slower."

"That's insane."

Trevor stares at him in disbelief.

"So, just out for a joy ride, running people over?"

"You're asking a lot of fucked up questions for a guy with a head through his head."

Trevor picks at the hole with his index finger.

"Fresh off the boat, eh?"

The stranger hands Trevor the bottle of vodka again and he throws some more into his gullet.

"Yeah, it felt like it took years to through everything... By the time it all got started though, it felt pretty rushed."

"Wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?"

"Not dead. I never had to sit through all that bullshit."

"Not dead? The what the fuck are you doing here?"

"You fucking talk a lot."

The stranger points straight ahead, down a main stretch, many blocks away. The TOWER stands tall over everything else in the distance.

"See that? That's where I'm headed."

"Yeah, what is that anyway? Fucking headquarters, or something?"

"You could say that. Doc's up there."

"Doc?"

"Doc."

The stranger confirms.

"We gotta talk."

Trevor's head begins to ache and vision blurs. He stumbles back and forth for a moment before falling forwards into the stranger's cockcycle.

"What the fuck?! Get off it bitch!"

The stranger screams at Trevor as he shoves him off onto the ground. He revs up the engine on his cockcyle and just begins to zoom away before every billboards, tv screen, and sign lights up with Trevor's face.

The picture was new too, fresh bullet wound and all. It goes between showing that and a flash of text reading: If you see me, take me here, more or less.... Then the picture of the tower and the Doc standing in front of it smiling.

The stranger shuts off the engine to his bike and looks down at an out concious Trevor.

"Well, fuck."

---

---

"So what ARE the big plans this time around? I'm sure everyone is wondering."

The conference room remains quiet as the people just stare down to the head of the table where the doctor sits.

"Because you KNOW I never come into the battle without a plan."

"Well, my friends, thus far, regaining my grasp on my precious UNIVERSE inches EVER closer by the day."

The doctor takes a large puff from his cigar and buries the room in a large layer of smog.

"While becoming a two-time XWF X-Treme Champion is being placed on hold for a moment; there is a tournament for the Tag Team Titles that takes place this Wednesday on Warfare. Joining forces with the current, relentless X-Treme Champion himself, Unknown Soldier and Doctor Louis D'Ville are going to sweep through this waste of time and take our place atop this division. It doesn't seem like this mountain is going to be impose much of a difficult climb, either."

"That's right, my friends. A ONE night tournament to decide the number one contenders and who will face Robbie Bourbon and.... A sandwich? For the XWF Tag Team Titles."

"I do see quite a few fresh faces in the mix. Let's clear the smoke before we go any further here."

Doc does just the opposite and pulls out another huge puff of smoke.

"There are several teams here who have no clue what they've gotten themselves into. With the hopes of becoming something in this FINE federation, they've been led astray in believing they actually stand a chance. They've been given hope."

"Anything, and I mean ANYTHING, that I've pursued since my coming as been attained without much, notice, my friends. The X-Treme Championship, the Universal Championship, the King of the XWF crown... Ask any of the XWF allumni also participating in the tournament. That's also without saying, my newest patient, my tag team partner in this little fiasco, shares a similar trait."

"This is a fact that surely Peter Gilmour and Michael McBride are familiar with. Peter hardly pokes his head out out when I'm around and Soldier needs a crowbar to break Peter from humping his leg into dust. I'm sure you wish you were in my position, don't you Mister Gilmour? Partnered up with one of your heroes, am I? I can't wait until you finally come out of the closet here and share your disappointed little cunt attitude with the rest of us. There's a good reason Soldier chose who he chose for this, it's becuase you're the exact opposite of the two of us. Rather than over achieving and succeeding you've disappointed and achieved NOTHING. You've been a five-time tag team, thirteen-time x-treme, fifty-time loser since I joined this FINE federation all those years ago. It doesn't matter what you and Brother McBride bring to the table at Warfare, Peter. It never has because it doesn't stack up even close to what we're capable of. Especially if your little premonition comes true and we DO meet in the finals. How are you going to bring over one hundred percent after a couple matches leading up to this HUGE BOUT? Personally, I don't think either of you will have much in the tank following your FIRST match of the night. So just keep dreaming, my outspoken little friend. I'm sure the day will come again when Peter Gilmour's name shines in neon lights in the sky and everyone side steps their own chance to face the most hardcore Universal Champion that would could ever have."

"Boy, I need a drink."

The doctor chuckles and bit and stands up from his chair. He shuffles across the room and stirs together a small concoction of liquors.

"Ghost Tank, long time no see, my friend. You of all people should understand the wrath that I alone am capable of. You seen it all first hand, for a while, anyway. Until you got greedy which.... led you where? On your ass. Over and over and over again. It's not all lemons, though, is it? You ARE, indeed, the XWF Hart Champion. Well, congratulations for THAT, I suppose. I'm glad you finally find your nitch in this federation. See, I always kind of considered the Hart Championship as, hmm.. One of the lesser titles... For like of a better term. IT IS, WITH OUT A DOUBT, A TITLE. But, if you like kicking around the lower tier competition and newcomers at the beginning to middle of every show... Then that's your slice of pie."

"You've spoken the same way about yourself since the beginning, too. Ever since War Games, over two years ago, you've been celebrating the same eventful evening we all shared that night. You've been this monstrous-being that destroys everything. Well, I suppose if you're going to convince yourself of that, the Hart Title division is just where you need to be. Be thankful you have THAT much and Soldier and I aren't intrested in any of THAT garbage. So, be so kind and stand aside as we smoothley skate our way towards the fat man with the titles."

"I can't help but feel a bit sorry for your team team partner, thought. It has nothing to do with your level of skill, your size, your weird and crazy likes and pleasures... It's the simple fact that your confidence level shows through all of that muscle and tough skin. I was going to say thick skin, but you DEFINITELY don't have that. As one of the saddest, most desperate, most dispicable acts I've come across in my time here, I will say that I hope you don't even make it to the second round to face Soldier and myself. I don't even want bothered with it, Mister Ghost Tank. You've already placed your own chances to slim and you've already placed three people in the tournament HIGHER than yourself. Your basing that off of me being Universal Champion for so long? Your basing that from Unknown Soldier holding not one, but TWO briefcases?"

"Sad, desperate, dispicable, AND pathetic. The two of us have never faced off, Ghost Tank, so it's hard for me to just presume I'd rip you to pieces, but I'm going to. You DID used to bow to me remember? Have you told your bearded new friend that one? Share with us how it felt to be pulled along by a string straight up until they were snipped."

"You need more spirit, Ghost Tank. Your partner has been carrying quite a bit as of late, but it's not the same as say, Barney Green spirit. The man knows the odds are against him at ALL times, but he doesn't care. He tries his best, which sometimes IS, sometimes better than his opposition and he comes out victorious. Thirty-two years old and a veteran when it comes to this FINE federation, Ghost Tank, you could learn a few things from old Barno."

"If anyone doesn't believe making it to the finals of this tournament is a suicide mission, then I'm not sure what show you're watching, folks. You'll find out what I'm talking about in the first round when we start with John Black and Lord of Darkness Reaver. Two of the Trios Champs and members of Mister 's Blackest Hole. You poor souls will unfortunately be an example for the rest of the kiddies that night. Once we're through with the two of you? Repeat, repeat, and wait. You all know what you were getting yourselves into, now live it. The Tag Team Championships are only the first step to this UNIVERSE once again being in my grasp. In one night, we'll prove that it's Doctor Louis D'Ville and Unknown Soldier as the two top competitors to ever grace the XWF arena."