Woefully wondering whispers wander through a once nimble conscious… the wounded wayfarer trudging through the perplexing purgatorial dreamscape:

Within there is nothing…a heavy, mind-boggling darkness…



“Where? Where are you? …where am I? Why has this happened?”

A subconscious answers itself,

“You gave in, you collapsed and you animated an evil that wasn’t of this world, an evil that wasn’t even real…”

“…so, so I failed then?”

“What is failure? What were the glaring omissions of your venturing in the vacant valleys of wrath?”

“…I’m not sure, I have a hard time remembering… remembering anything.”

“Remember first who you were… Who was Dylan George? The truth, the absolute realization of that is the first step in slaying this demon. But you must know.. he’s in control now and you are but his vessel…”

The soothingly assuring sound of the subconscious begins to crack and tare into a scathing scream- followed by an empowering voice of horrific proportions…

“You’re purpose was always ultimately failure Dylan. Your Christ comparable consummate righteousness, so paramount and pristine- yet where I found you, in your borrows… ha…hollowed and deteriorating.

All of your grandureous dreams, now are your ugliest of nightmares, and for here you’ll remain… for all of eternity, watching me use your body against your ideals. Watching me slay this world and grab the reigns of this sumptuous stage that is the XWF- and destroy it piece by piece.”
……

“You have to remember… this is your mind Dylan, not his.”

The scene rips as the blackness cascades into a nostalgic sepia scope. It is a packed outdoor arena in the daylight during July…





Cues over the loud speakers, as Dylan George, the newly crowned SWA World Heavyweight Champion appears under the entrance way. His back turned to the audience with his fingers pointed in the air. Pyro’s erupt along the stage as he turns around and roars:

“LETS GO!!!!!!!”

Around his waist the World Heavyweight Championship shimmered magnificently in the subduing sunlight. Dylan, shirtless and in blue wrestling trunks and black boots smiled making his way to the ring and seemed to touch hands with every fan on his way.

Howard Finkel: “Making his way to the ring, standing in at 6’4” and weighing 237 pounds… a name synonyms with excellence, character and an excellent character. The man, the myth, the legend of the Southern Wrestling Alliance… From Louisville, KY, he is the SWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION! DYLAN… GGGEEEOOOOORRRGGGEEE!!!!!!”

The crowd goes ballistic…

Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan(Commentator): “Listen to that crowd pop, my god they love the champ here in Nashville!”

CM Punk(Commentator): “Brain, they love this kid everywhere! I promise you, his wrestling ability, his influence, his belief system… doing your best to do best by others, even your enemies no matter what the cost, I promise you he would get pops like this in Ho Chi Min City! Even you Brain, one of the most narcissistic, negative heel homer commentator of all time- even you don’t have a bad thing to say about this guy…”

Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan: “…and he’s only 18 years old. The skies the limit for our young brash champion!”

Dylan climbs the turnbuckle from the outside of the ring, perching himself up and removing his title from his waist, raising it into the air with one arm as a blinding barrage of camera lights engulf the champion.
He then backflips from the top turnbuckle into the ring, and makes his way over to the opposite corner, climbing to the second rope and raising his title with both arms.

After he climbs down Dylan meets his opponent, the former SWA World Heavyweight Champion, The Big Hoss Man in the center of the ring. The two men embrace, sharing smiles and hand-shakes.

CM Punk: “Amazing, look at the respect these two have for one another… their match two months ago at Supercard X will go down as one of the greatest wrestling performances in the history of this storied sport… I have little doubt that this match will live up to it either.”

Bobby Heenan: “Amazing to me is that the Champion is even granting Hoss Man a re-match, and that he’s doing it simply out of respect and because it’s the right thing to do. I mean we’re talking about Big Hoss Man, the most dominate champion in SWA history who’s 10 combined title reigns lasted an astonishing 2042 days, and his most recent reign before being knocked off by that man, Dylan George, lasted over 600 days.”

The two men return to their respective corners, while Howard Finkel takes center stage in the ring…

Howard Finkel: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to 2014 SWA Presents: Ring of Honor, main event of the evening… and it’s for the SWA World Heavyweight Championship!!!
This match is a submissions match, the only way to win is to make your opponent tap-out!”

The ref holds the Championship up in the center of the ring as the scene fades out…

XWF is still live in the present perceptional reality...

With The Nightmare still in the ring...



...cues over the loud speakers as the fans erupt with excitement.

Ricky Desmond appears on the stage, suave suit and tie, emotionless... his eyes hidden by his sunglasses and a microphone in his hand.

Before Ricky can lift the mic up to speak The Nightmare interrupts:

"I thought I just told you to stay out of my way Desmond..."

Ricky cracks a sly little grin from the side of his mouth,

"...Dylan... I mean, Nightmare, I honestly hadn't listened to word you've said for the last twenty minuets that you've been out here rambling. Matter of fact, I believe this crowd is even starting to fall asleep.
You know I don't know what in the hell happened to you, but I must admit I used to follow your career back in the indie leagues with great intrigue- you're a hell ova' wrestler... at least you were. Did all the pressure and success go to your head, did you finally snap or are you just trying to intimidate us all now that you're in the big leagues?"

The Nightmare cocks his head to the side a bit, looking puzzled,

"While what you may think you believe you see standing in the ring is the great, young, promising wrestler from the indie circuit named Dylan George... you couldn't be more wrong......just....as you are.....about everything else in your life.......Desmond."

Ricky looks irritated,

"You see Ricky, what you and everyone else in this league has completely and utterly failed to realize, is that this may be the body of Dylan George, but what you see here isn't the great Dylan George. I...I am the total embodiment and physical manifestation of fear. I am he who whispers the hard truths into your ear at night while you're sleeping, I am the calculated conqueror of your coy subconscious cadence... I am The Nightmare, and I'm here now, in XWF to conqueror this entire league. Starting with Maverick- that simple shit stain Scully... and if you decide to get in my way- you too Ricky."

"Whatever manifestation, possession crap you have going on over there, it's irrelevant to me- what's most important now is winning The Lethal Lottery. I know you can bring it, I know you can work that ring maybe as well as anyone- but obviously our opponents don't know that, and they're obviously highly underestimating me as well."

Ricky points to the XTron as a video segment from Maverick and Scully discussing their upcoming match with Desmond and The Nightmare:

Quote:"Now, as you can see from here, Desmond seems to be particularly agile, so I think attacking his legs during the match would work quite well. Also note how he was clutching his-- SCULLY!"

Maverick was going to continue on, but he saw Scully shining the Championship and the Tag Team Championships! Scully makes a big deal about hearing Mav, as he takes his pinkie and begins cleaning his ear, and then making a big, false yawn, and then proceeded to lean back in his chair.

Scully "Sorry. You say somethin', Mav the scav?"

"Oh yeah, pretty much how I just showed you one of Ricky Desmond's strengths and, by extension, one of his weaknesses. Pay attention!"

Scully "Ugh, fine. You're no fun"

"I don't think you've noticed, but this tournament isn't about fun! I am going to win this tournament, get that 24/7 briefcase, and win that Universal Championship, and I'm going to be DAMNED if the weight of supporting both you and me is going to force us to drop out early on! Now, moving on..."

The footage fades forward a bit...

Quote:"I see your still completely , as Sane was handed BOTH titles. But, on the bright side, at least I ignited some sort of flame within you. Now then, lets focus on Dylan George."

Scully "What that he's some sort of a monster? I don't like monsters, they scare me!"

"You do realize monsters are just a load of baloney? Besides, this guy just seems like a dumbass. I mean, dude thought Doctor D'Ville was selling the X-treme Championship, even though he was just selling some stupid replica."

Scully "I know really, jeez, I'm not that stupid"

"I beg to differ. Anyway, Scully, I expect you to step up in some sort of way for this match. No daydreaming and no slacking."

Desmond continues on addressing The Nightmare:

"So as you can see... while maybe Maverick has broken down some of my film, these two are obviously too , in at least one half of the case, literally , as they haven't even made the connection to your work in the indies, if we can work together and win this Lethal Lottery- it means more money, more prestige and more power..."

The Nightmare interrupts,

"And but of course you'd care about that Desmond what a shrouded charade of an existence you live in. If these two bumbling buffoons want to scout me, how's about a bit of a synopsis then..."

The camera pans directly onto The Nightmare's face who is now looking directly into the camera,

"Maverick... Scully, matter of fact this is a message for the entire XWF. You're looking into the evil engraved eyes of the quintessential father of fear, and unluckily for all of you I have possession of the grandest, most athletically sound vessel the sport of wrestling has ever seen. In short, or laymen's...Scully's understandable terminology, YOU'RE ALL DOOMED!

Once you enter into the darkness of night, which happens from the moment you cross that threshold apron into the ring, I will take any and all of you to the darkest places of you sickening souls. As you're humiliatingly hammered by these horrific hands, begging for mercy, praying for the good dreams to come...I'll be there... casting more shadows and catching your dreams. And when The Nightmare is nearly over, and you see the Rising Sun rising into the horizon of the sky- it will captivatingly crash down onto you... and all you'll hear is...

1....
2....
3...."

The Nightmare whispers the three count, raising each finger as he numbered them.

Ricky just smirks, mouthing off to The Nightmare as he exits the stage. The Nightmare now, on his knees in the ring, with his arms out roaring:

"IT'S SLAUGHTERIN' TIME!!!!!!"