Sitting on a stool inside our locker room, I am taping up my wrists while humming a tune, that I couldn't remember the name of for the life of me, Father Slather was reading a book that would be equivalent to the Bible, the Quran, or any other book of religious tales. Finishing up the wrap I bite trough the tail releasing it from my roll, I toss the roll back in my black gym bag. Slowly I slide my leather gloves back on over my now taped hands, preparing for my match tonight on Warfare, when suddenly...

Thud...

Thud...

Thud...

Three loud and hard knocks at the locker room door, I slowly rise up off the wooden stool and begin to walk toward the door, but Father Slathe grabs my arm before I pass and points with his finger to the jump rope, I nod my head. He places a feather in the Book of Truth and stands to his feet placing his hat back on his head before heading toward the door. As I grab the jump rope from the ground, I stretch it out making sure all the kinks were out. My wrists begin to rotate as the jump rope cable spirals over my head and down to my feet, I hopped in the air off my toes everytime the cable smacks the ground. Watching Father Slathe open the door, my pace begins to increase, after a few seconds Father turns back around slamming the door behind him. He walks back over to his chair, taking a seat, pulling an ancient looking dagger from his cloak. He slides the blade between the overlapping sections of the envelope while licking his upper lip. My rotations per minute with the jump rope were probably anywhere from one hundred and fifty to one seventy-five, this is a speed rope, the really skinny wire like ones. Father Slathe has removed the letter and begun reading it, a smile slowly starts to form, by the time he is halfway through with the letter, his smile is from one ear to the other. Letting out a few seconds of maniacal laughter, Father Slathe then sets the letter on fire.

Father Slathe: "Son, where you going to tell me you've been having back and forth banter with your opponent for Thursday Night Anarchy? What have I told you about that, I will handle the measures of wit and word, you are simply here to inflict pain and obey, I thought you had an understanding of this whole situation? Do we need to instill that into your memory more often, maybe increase treatments, or put you back in your cage!"

Mr. Tidbits: "Father, Please no, I will not displease you again, I promise, whatever I need to do to earn your trust again, please tell me!"

Father Slathe: "No this time is fine my child, but please do not back me into a corner where I have no options but to use force to make you remember, it hurts me more than it hurts you. The letter I just burned up, well it was from Suicide Jack, seems to have an obsession with suicide and can time travel, quite interesting, something I have never experienced before, nor you, but we don't disbelieve in such magical claims, we know there is special folk in the world, but Mr. Jackass, we also know that there isn't any power in existence past, present, or future more powerful than The Truth! Something that I feel is going to hit you extremely hard come Thursday, Mr. Jack. You see almost every man before you have claimed time and time again nothing can be done, yet my boy proves a whole lot can be done, time and time again. It was actually time that allowed him to punish, thrash, and impact each and every one of them until they no longer could say nothing can be done.

You say time is on your side and you are an expert, well then how come you can't see this time around, time isn't on your side, because when the time runs out and it comes time for the main event of the return of Anarchy, well your time ends as well. You should prepare a new body to jump to for after the match because you will need it, you thought being stuck in a coma for eighteen months was hell, just wait, that is going to look like a breeze compared to ten or fifteen minutes in the ring with my boy Mr. Tidbits, like you claim, my boy literally won't feel anything, he won't be hurt if things don't go his way, and he won't have to run from his own life and hide at the easiest parts of others. You, Suicide Jack, are a fraud, a coward, and Mr. Tidbits' next victim!

You try to say suicide is difficult, no, that is giving in to all the pain, try saying you have lived many lives, lies, you have taken, died many times, you enter another man's body at the easiest point of his life. So you wrote a letter as a Soldier from Belleauwood, is that suppose to be impressive, now maybe if you where the soldier for training, Bootcamp, yadda, yadda, I would be a little impressed. No, no you didn't do any of that, I doubt you have ever been in another body for long enough to really observe their actual life. I would choose to live through a thousand deaths over having to live through a thousand lives of torment and pain if I were a coward, but here the people of The Truth, Mr. Tidbits, and I are not cowards, we charge forward, we fight for our beliefs. Oh and Jack you can take your pen and shove it up your ass, the only pen pal I want is a German double D big tittied blonde bar maiden with a slim waist and blue eyes, not really into the whole emo, suicidal, skinny jean wearing fuckboys! Time is ticking, prepare for the cold hard Truth, Jack, because my son is special as well, probably more special than yourself. Soon the TRUTH will set you free!"

Slathe chuckles out loud.

Fade Out.