The scene opens inside of a truckstop restroom. The walls appear to be dirtier than even the floor. Wraith stumbles over to the sink and tosses a pack of tampons onto the counter as he leans into it and stares at his reflection in the broken mirror in front of him. He’s weak and out of breath. There is both dry and fresh blood on his left glove where the bullet wound in his shoulder has been bleeding out for a couple of hours now. Wraith unzips and buckles his thick leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind him. He turns on the water and splashes the bullet wound, cleaning the area well enough to see the damage. Seems that it went straight through, in and out. “That’s good”, he thinks. He will just need to clean and pack the wound and hope against infection. As he washes away at the wound Wraith begins to think about his upcoming match against BX3 and his partner, Pestilence. He decides that it may be for the best that he set some rules to follow in his first outing.


Rule #1 - Don’t rely on others.

Pestilence may be scheduled as his partner, but Wraith isn’t counting on him for any help (further) disabling BX3. Wraith has learned to never put his faith in others. As the old saying goes, “if you want something done right, do it yourself”. That’s exactly what Wraith plans to do here. There will be no teamwork. No comradery. Just Wraith laying waste to those two knuckleheads with surgeon like precision. If Pestilence wants to get his shots in, that’s fine. Though he’d better pray he doesn’t goof up and cost them the match, otherwise he will have a third enemy in the ring.


Rule #2 - Don’t make friends.

No matter how well they work together or how nicely their styles may gel. Wraith knows that there is zero chance of him and Pestilence forming any sort of bond during this outing. Wraith isn’t looking for friendship. He isn’t looking form any teams, or join any stables. Wraith is a lone soldier on the battlefield that is the XWF. He is guided by the hand of one that he calls master. His master is the only friend he needs. His master gives him direction. His master gives him purpose. Before his master found him, Wraith was lost. His master saved him and now has undying loyalty in return.

Rule #3 - Know thy enemy.

Wraith isn’t ignorant to whom he is facing at Warfare. He knows full well who BX3 are. He knows that Joshua Reno Sebasstian Dyke and Bilbo Baggins are only two of the three founding members of BX3. He knows that they are also the runts of the litter. One victory out of countless matches, and even that victory required a handicap setting against a single member of a team that was about on level with BX3’s level of prestige. The enemy is loud and obnoxious. Dick jokes and false claims of greatness are incoming, but Wraith knows that BX3 is all bark and no bite.

Rule #4 - Don’t underestimate the enemy.

BX3 are a collective joke, an unfunny one at that. Yet still, Wraith realizes that he must remain focused on the task at hand. As unthreatening as they may seem, if he drops his guard and looks past them, they may end up surprising him. That’s not an outcome that he is willing to accept. Therefore he knows that all of his time and energy needs to be focused on these two mentally handicapped “stars”.

Rule #5 - Trust no one.

Just as easily as Pestilence could cost them the victory through incompetence, he could just as easily do so with full intent. The XWF is a place where one must watch his back at all times. A place where threats can and do come from all over. Just because they are scheduled to work as a team doesn’t mean that Pestilence may not have plans to go into business for himself. Wraith knows that there isn’t much to gain from winning this match, but to be the man who leaves everyone laying in the ring broken at the end of it, that’s a statement. A statement that any new star would be tempted to make. Wraith realizes this and plans to keep a close eye on his “partner” during and after the bout. Wraith doesn’t have any plans to do anything other than win, but if pressed, he has no issue laying his partner to rest.

The thought of what Wraith did last night still lies heavily on Wraith’s mind. As he begins to stuff a tampon into the bullet hole. Make no mistake, he lacks any remorse for his actions. In fact he hasn’t given so much as a passing thought to the fact that he snuffed out two lives last night. Killing is something that he became good at a long time ago. It’s like second nature to him, and even though he hasn’t committed the act in a very long time, he found it to be like riding a bike. Easy to pick up again even after years without practice. What Wraith finds himself so focused on is instead the parallels between the the two people he killed and his opponents for his upcoming match at Warfare.

The hooker and the pimp represented the depravity of our society, much like the members of BX3. They were loud and obnoxious, so much so that he found himself unable to ignore them despite how little significance they held in his life. He was forced to take action, much like he will be forced to take action at Warfare.

When forced to deal with the problem that they presented, Wraith quickly concluded that they did not deserve his mercy. Instead, they both needed to be ended, permanently for the benefit of the rest of the world. The same can easily be said about BX3. What do these two men bring to the XWF? What are their contribution to this company that warrants their extended stay? Wraith wonders how is it that they continue to be employed after all of this time when they have proven time and again that they are incapable of winning, both matches and fans.

BX3 aren’t championship material.

They aren’t the lovable underdogs.

The only possible reason for them to be kept around is to be fodder for new talent to sink their teeth into. A couple of loudmouthed unintelligent jerks who the crowd loves to see get whipped week after week. If that is truly their lot in life, Wraith will be happy to oblige.

The only problem that he finds himself facing now is not allowing himself to take things too far. It seems that the act of murder provides a highly addictive rush. One that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but one that even now beckons for him to to have another taste. It represents itself as a foreign voice inside of his head. One that whispers temptation into his ear. However, random murders are not what his master expects of him. So for now he must bury the urge and ignore the temptation.

With his wound now cleaned and patched as best as one could expect considering the circumstances, Wraith grabs his leather jacket from the floor and slips back into it.

Next stop, Australia.