Lightning strikes.

Rain falls from the heavens above onto the cold winter’s pavement.

The dark skies above are nothing but a cloudy storm. Rain downpours across the land of The Church of The Higher Power. Or at least… the burned remains of said church. Despite the torrential downpour, the sounds of hammers and drills can be heard from inside of the church’s remains. Standing in front of the church looking up at it is just who you’d expect: Hysteria. As he stands in the vicious winds and falling raindrops, drops of water rush down the sides of Hysteria’s fedora and his coat is flying back in the winds. The mask of Hysteria is white with a black outline going around the facial features. Another thunder crack and the voice of Hysteria slices through the night’s storm with ease.

In this last tempest. I perceive these lords
At this encounter do so much admire
That they devour their reason and scarce think
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain
That I am Hysssssteriaaaaa and that very duke
Which was thrust forth of XWF, who most strangely
Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed,
To be the lord on't. No more yet of this;
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast nor
Befitting this first meeting.

A silence befalls not only the mouth of Hysteria, but the sounds of the wind and lightning seem to halt for a minute. The only sound filling the air is the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the pavement.

The sound of a shrill and disturbing laugh breaks the void as the wind and lightning suddenly return to life. Hysteria begins walking forward while laughing. He gets to the stairs and leaps it two at a time whilst waggling his index fingers on time with his chuckles. He gets to the top and plops down on his behind against the door to the church. He cross his legs and places his hands on his knees. What’s left of the overhang of the building guards him from any rain. He sighs happily and drums his fingers along his kneecaps as he hums a tune to himself. He stops, sinisterly laughs, and then takes a deep breath.

Teeeee Jayyyyy Wallaccccccccce. Hehehe! Boy oh BOY did you pick a terrible week to want to fight. Hehehaha! You see, Mr. Silent Speaker, I am in a mood most foul. I know… I KNOW! I seem happier than the usual, but let me tell you something… I almost am. Not only did my team lose their match for the Trios Championships, but I’ve now lost two straight… TWO FUCKING STRAIGHT. That… that… bahahamahaha! It fucking fuels me. I’m not the kind of bitch that cries over spilled milk. I fucked up, I didn’t come through in the end. Much like you haven’t. Look at your track record already! You just fucking got here and you’ve lost twice! Ohhh but you won a #1 Contender’s Match for Myyyyy belt! Well congratulations Wallace. Congrats on beating the guy I’ve beaten… TWICE and some other dark-skinned brother like yourself. Hell you probably offered to buy the win off of him by buying him some crack on the side. Oooh maybe you got one of your buddies to hook him up with a nice ‘classy’ lady of his, right? No charge for the first hour? Bahahamahaha! But back to you, Wallybaby. You get to be the first successful bitch I spay while holding onto the prestigious The Prophetic Belt of The Almighty Higher Power. So get your vagina ready Wallace because I’m going to tie your tubes and make you scream like the little bitch you are.

Hysteria sneers and looks at his gloves. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out The Book of The Higher Power. He begins searching frantically to find the verse.

Now where oh where did I find that… Aha! I found it Wallybaby! I found the quote! Ahem. If you will turn in your books with me to chapter 3 verse 14.

As a child of The Higher Power, your will shall be challenged. Your commitment shall be brought into question. As a child of The Higher Power, you must vanquish these forces and silence those who dare to challenge you.

Hysteria unbuttons his jacket to reveal a white undershirt and… his title belt around his waist. Hysteria unbuttons the title and raises it with his hand as he gets to his feet. He begins tracing the lettering on the title seemingly transfixed.

You see… TJ… this title. It’s more than just a belt to me. Farrrr more than just an accolade or accomplishment. To me, this belt is a bond. A bond that not only holds myself together this Family under my love and support, but this belt is a bond between myself and The Higher Power. He told me that I would achieve great moments through him if I only believed and sacrificed. What little life I had, I gave it away. I fell to my knees and prayed that The Higher Power up above would bestow upon me what I so rightfully deserved… and I got it. Within a few short weeks of dedicating myself to him, I was blessed with a title all my own! I dedicated the win and the gold to him in honor. I do things for a purpose: to serve the one who gave me my will to go on. Why do you do anything?

You’re The Voice of Voiceless? Really?! You’re CM Fucking Punk?! Really?! So that fucker quits the WWE, gets reverse Michael Jackson surgery, grows out a beard stocked with RC Cola, Moonpies, and dime bags, replaces his exquisite moveset with that of a cracked out chicken running around with its head cut off, and has a bitch dictate what he should do with his life? Next thing you’re to tell us that you’re marrying a bitch from this fed and quitting because Shane wanted to put you over.

Seriously fucker! That beard looks like it’s made of fucking pube hair! Your face looks like a testicle with your dick fro hanging off of it. I seem to recall you claiming that you were going to eradicate the XWF of my fellow teammates. WELL WHAT A GREAT FUCKING JOB. Here we are, at the title match and you managed to take out a whopping… zero. That’s… what a great job. I’m so proud of you little Wallybaby! You did such a good job. Hell even Mr. Erebus barely had to break a sweat in his match against you. As a result of that, all of my brethren can join in on the fun! Oh joy! Thank you fucktard! Thank you for ensuring your own demise. Granted you never stood even the slightest of a chance, but allowing my comrades to come have fun just makes your chances reduce to the negatives. Ohhh but you did decide to stick your brown nose into my title match. Yes… yes you did. I must say that I’m glad you did. I was afraid that you were just going to lie down like the little bitch you are. It seems like you’re taking this match seriously though. It’s all I want! I want you to fight me. FIGHT ME! Don’t let me just stomp you into the dirt. It wouldn’t take much to get your homeless ass there. Fucking hobo. But get ready TJ, hehe… get ready for the nastiest and most disgusting fight of your life. Because I am going to fuck you up, boy.

This title isn’t going anywhere after our match except around my waist. You think you’re taking this away from ME?! Dream on, boy. Dream of your Kentucky Fried Chicken and finally meeting your idol, Colonel Sanders. Dream of success and victory against even one of The Asylum members. Dream of holding a title that EVER belongs to me. In the end of it all, that’s all it will be for you. A Dream.

The piercing sound of laughter spreads throughout the yard as the camera fades into the rain as droplets tap on the glass of the lens.