Fighting fire with fire had never really been my style. I’d been raised to rise above. Someone throws a fist, you respond with your mind. Don’t allow them to drag you down into their depths of depravity. Morality, composure...it winds in the end. Hold on to it.

It’s the very basis of my game plan against Robert Main. He goes low. I go high. He wants to attempt murder every time he sees me, fine. I’ll keep my distance and get the guy back inside the ropes at Relentless when this shit counts.

I say all of this so you guys will understand my current predicament and why it’s got my morality bend over a barrel.

Abduction. A terrible crime. Sex trafficking. An equally terrible crime. Combine these two and you’ve got the very dearth of humanity. As grimy and gross as humanity can possibly reach. I’ve found myself elbow deep in said grease the past month, stumbling into an underground sex trafficking ring.

A sex trafficking ring comprised entirely of sex dolls.

To be fair, they are REAL sex dolls. Ya know, the super expensive ones. Meant to assimilate actual, living, breathing, fucking women. But, still, they are sex dolls.

Typically I’d have turned a blind eye to something so...ehm...dumb. But, the particular market greatly impacted by this ring is comprised almost entirely by LARPers.

And, well, metrics of the financial variety show that LARPers make up a strong portion of my fanbase. A base I can’t let down. My conscience and wallet simply will not allow it.

Matters into my own hands, I slummed the alleyways in between costume shops and Gamespots. I was surprised to see so many Gamespots still in business. I’d assumed they’d gone the way of Blockbuster.

Meandering in and out of these dark crevices acting as havens for all sorts of nerd inspired debauched activities, I ran into a peddler. A man with something to sell.

Plastic Sex.

He was a purveyor of the very item I sought.

“Excuse me, my liege, but would you be open to a rendezvous with a clean, healthy, vibrant young woman for this evening underneath the crescent moon?”

Solid sales pitch. The guy knew his target audience.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Are we talking flesh or plastic?”

He smiled, twirling an imaginary mustache, “Right this way, sir.”

I’d apparently spoken some form of triggering lingo. A secret password I’d unknowingly possessed mouthed in the direction of the gatekeeper. The door swung open and I entered.

Legs danging off the edge of an opened pick up truck bed belonging to several plastic dolls. Slowly, I looked up, admiring the craftsmanship. Not gonna lie. Gun to my head, I’d probably be inclined to take a shot at one or two of the ‘women’...if the circumstances were right. And by right I mean they were laying around my house one lonely evening and nobody...and I do mean nobody, would ever find out.

Eyeing the whory expression on each face, I nodded...a nonverbal form of satisfaction.

“So, which one will it be?” the peddler asked.

BAM!

Reaching out, I slugged the man in the jaw. He fell to the ground unconscious.

Which brings us to the situation at hand.

Fire with fire.

I’d chosen the combat once sworn off.

By attempting to stop a ring based on abduction, I abducted the peddler of plastic sex.

He sat in front of me, bound to a chair. We’d used a good amount of duct tape. A thick strip covered his mouth. He came to, bounced around, wiggled, tried to speak...every act of defiance...every movement meant to emit a cry, emotion, question...blocked by gray adhesive.

Realizing his mission would bear no fruit, he stopped. His chest heaved. Sweat began to form underneath his thinning hairline. Looking up, he sized up his opposition. There was, of course, myself...in my normal, human attire. To my left was Edward Mof. And, to my right, Father Thyme.

His head lowered. There was nothing he could do. So, I think, he decided to conserve his energy, rest his aching neck...try and block out the situation in an effort to help pass along the time.

I was not going to let that happen.

“Hey!” I yelled, snapping my fingers. When he didn’t budge, I reached down and slapped under his chin, sending his head upward. His eyes found me once again, “Look at me, man! There’s only one way this ends and that’s with your cooperation.”

His head leaned back, neck resting in an awkward position against the back of the chair. His vision traveled over his cheek bones, making contact with my focused sockets. I pointed at the plastic dolls which were situated in chairs behind me. In total, there were five. We’d managed to clean them up...get them in a more presentable, less slutty appearance. I don’t know why, really. I guess we felt they deserved some dignity.

“I need to know who you took these women from and why…” He mimicked the dolls in question, remaining statuesque. “As well as who you’re working for.” I paused, thinking that was all I needed. I’d only seen this stuff on TV so I was using Hollywood as my point of reference. May not have been smart but it was all I had.

“Okay, so we’re gonna play it that way, eh?” In hindsight I probably should have given the guy more time but I was getting kinda antsy. We were trespassing on somebody’s property and I didn’t really feel like getting arrested with a bunch of plastic sex dolls in my possession. Not exactly a great way to lead into the biggest match of my career.

I rolled up my sleeves, eyeing the silent, grimy criminal. Once finished, I threw my head at Father Thyme, “Alright Father Thyme, do your thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Rough him up.”

He paused. I turned, shrugging and pointing at the criminal, “Give him a slap or two. Maybe a few punches. Smack some answers out of him.”

Father Thyme seemed against the idea. I don’t know why, he appeared to be the type of guy you’d find running around with some gang in the middle of new york circa...I don’t know, many years ago. But, apparently he’d found religion or, well, he’d always found religion it’s just that his religion forbade this type of violence.

“Ugh, fine,” I stepped forward, realizing I’d have to do it myself. “This stable really sucks you know, none of you guys contribute anything,” I complained. It was true.

Towering over the man, I clenched my fists. I shut my eyes. An excess amount of oxygen filled my lungs. The muscles in my body tightened. I coiled. I was ready. I was ready. I was ready. I WAS READY.

“Son of a…”

“What?” Edward Mof asked, surprised.

“I can’t beat this guy up,” I complained, “he’s helpless. I just...I can’t.”

“But he’s trafficking women!”

“Is he?” I asked, pointing at the dolls in the back of the room.

Mof approached, placing a hand on my shoulder. “They may not be women to you, but they are to someone. To some, those women are the loves of their lives.”

I mean, it was true. But there was a moral conundrum I was dealing with. Did I really want to help such a sad group of individuals? Perhaps by allowing this shit to continue they might be forced to discover the company of real women.

“Man, that’s so fucking pathetic,” I uttered.

“MHMMHMJKM!!” the tied up man emitted, bouncing around.

We both turned. He went silent. It clicked. I headed for the girls.

“Ya know,” I mulled, standing over them, “perhaps I’ll try one out, see what all the fuss is about.”

A door slammed shut. I turned, Father Thyme had left upon hearing that announcement. Can’t really blame him.

I rubbed the hair of one doll. Then another. Then another. Then…

“MMMPHMMMPPPHHH!!!”

A-Ha!

I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her from the chair. I shook her, violently. The tied up man writhed about, sending his chair tipping over to the side, landing hard on the ground.

I’d found it. His soft spot.

Mof placed the chair back in its original position. I yanked the tape off the man’s mouth and demanded, “You tell me what I want to know right now or I’m going to...I’m going to...I’m going to do really bad things to this woman right in front of you!”

“Please, no! Not my amore! I will tell you everything!”

And, he did.

---

What’s left to say at this point, Page?

I think I said it all last week.

I find myself tired, fatigued, unmotivated to verbally assault you in this piece so I’m going to bypass all of that. Look at this as a means to an end...a stepping stone for the attack I’m going to unleash on Main in about a week.

Say what you will about me. Do what you must inside the ring at Savage.

In the long run it won’t mean anything because once I’m doing with Main, I’m going to come after you.

Cataclysm will bask in my aura!