Both of equal design
One filled with nothing more than sweet wine
The other carrying a berry's nectar, from a very different vine
Poison
Quite the fast working toxin
It starts at your insides and works its way out your skin
Undetectable by any test
Symptoms are swift to manifest
Signs of the insidious liquid's conquest
As it silently destroys you from within
However there is a way to win
In this wicked game of sin
Pick the goblet that has been filled from a vin ordinaire cask
Then ye shall have surpassed the task
Escaped the destiny of death's dauntingly divine mask
All you must do is pick accurate
Clear your mind, free all thoughts and simply go for it
In a game of chance, there's no time to try to use wit
Not even a moment, should be wasted with that here
Please, do remember that, my dear
Allow my words to be the sole thing that you hear
For when trying to trick fate
Play the game, switch the bait
What lies in your heart, will save you from the Reaper's checkmate
Instinct, intuition and a keen sense in games of chance
Will keep you alive in this sadistic dance
Maintain your poise and hold your stance
Of course there's always the option to not play
Rise from your seat and walk away
Truly sensible, if one wants to sincerely live another day
When presented this choice, what will you do
Make the safe call or attempt to walk the path of the few
Really it is all up to you
Choose wisely...





Voyaging alongside my darling Dillinger, on his journey to reconnect with a brother lost, I find myself in New York. Home of the spaceman trapped inside a Rocket, an advocate of light in the darkness and the trio Blackwater, among many others. My design for the day has taken on quite a drastically different turn. While my beloved ventures out in order to speak honestly and frankly to a living weapon. In regards to their sordidly connected origin. I've decided to seek out a hidden gem. A man of nightmares and lore, more dead than alive. The one called Zane Norrison, who requires human brains to survive.


This endeavor isn't merely out of intrigue and interest though. In spite of my curiosity, dropping by his house of the dead is purely business related. Sorceresses frequently require ingredients for their spell craft. From common to very rare and others near impossible to acquire. A zombie's gift of life is what I desire. Make no false assumption, instead allow for this simple clarification. Not in any way, shape or form, am I looking to join the ranks of the animated deceased. Objectives behind what I pursue, are solely in the name of what the disastrous commodity can do. Such a terrible curse coupled with an unwanted gift of eternal life with a price. Could very well be used when one needs to conjure up some powerful magic. For potions and incantations that are shroud in the shadows of the damned and considered to be immensely drastic. One never knows when certain needs will arise, in these vile, vicious and black times...


I find that its always best to be the surprise.


The morgue is deserted when I arrive, save for a secretary checking her Instagram during work hours and the living corpse that sees to the care of the dead. Somewhere, Zane Norrison is weighing and cataloging organs but instead of bothering with the receptionist, I merely go on ahead, alone. It is my solid belief that her brand of help will be more annoying than it is worth. Besides it's not like he should be hard to find. Simply follow the path down the hall till I find a room with the only body that's moving. Should be easy enough to accomplish. It's not like I'm navigating a labyrinth or the catacombs of Paris, France. As usual my assumptions are proven to be correct and I managed to locate Zane within a matter of a few short minutes.


Working in an examination chamber, he cuts open a cadaver that is situated atop a metal table. While the sight of such an act might disrupt or damage most minds, I'm unfazed and continue onward inside the room. Watching as Zane proceeds to remove, weigh and catalog the innards of a corpse. A pair of lime green head phones rest over his ears. With his back to me, he is unaware that I'm even standing here. Perfect. I enjoy obliviousness in these types of candid and rare moments, when observation grants insight into a being's true character.


What do I see when I take a glimpse behind Zane Norrison's curtain?


Pure, unadulterated life, thriving inside the cold shell of death. He seems high spirited and actually appears to dance as he works. Cautiously removing organs, he places them on a scale and records the information by hand on a nearby chart. Before neatly putting everything back in its proper place, like a reverse game of Operation. It is remarkable and I'm absolutely fascinated. Drawn in, I almost don't even want to interrupt him.


All the while as he works, I watch, like a fly on the wall. Some might say this is creepy but in my line of work, I scarcely pay mind to that kind of close minded, judgement. In the realm of the unknown, that type of discrimination doesn't exist. Not to me anyway. To shun sheer curiosity and interest is utterly absurd. Although a part of me does wonder if he'll ever take note of my presence. Yet this thought doesn't last long.


Through no fault of my own, Zane's attention is soon focused fully upon me, when he abruptly turns around. In order to retrieve a bone saw to cut open the top of the cadaver's skull. Stationed on a metal tray that's set on a counter; a few feet from me, I gathered that it would be needed eventually and I was right. Once again this knowledge comes as no surprise. After all, I am rarely ever wrong. Trying very hard to mask the smirk and hold back the inevitable laugh, I fail miserably when Zane becomes startled by the mere sight of me. He stumbles back, wide-eyed and removes his headphones as I compose myself quickly. So this is how Zane Norrison and I will meet. Magnificent.


"Can I help you?"


"I don't know, can you?"


"Maybe? Depends on why you're here. Are you here to pick up a body? Cause I'm going to need to see some paperwork if that's the case."


Furrowing his brows a tad, he removes the green latex gloves adorning his hands. There certainly seems to be a lot of viridescent accents attributed to Zane.


"Was there a woman at the desk out front?"


"Indeed. There was a woman sitting at the desk in the front."


"Did she just send you back here without any provided assistance? Without seeing to your needs or requirements at all? Find out why you were here? Ask anything?"


"Oh no. She was busy checking her Instagram. I didn't bother her."


He laughed as his eyebrows lifted in astonishment.


"She didn't even notice that you walked in the door?"


"No."


"And you passed right by her, without her engaging you even once?"


"I'm a light stepper. To be fair, you didn't notice me either."


"Only cause I was working with headphones on. I know, not an excuse, I'm sorry. Really it is against protocol for anyone to come in here without being seen by the receptionist first. You need to sign in and there's a whole process that you have to go through before you pick up a body. For instance, you don't have any paperwork. I need that for the identification number so I can locate whoever you're here for. Otherwise I'm blindly guessing."


"Oh I don't need any of that, I already found who I was looking for."


"You did?"


"I did."


"Well who are you looking for exactly?"


"You. I'm looking for you, Zane Norrison."


"I see. Who are you and why are you looking for me?"


"I'm Nyx Nephthys and I'm here in the hopes of persuading you to allow me to have a sample of your semen."





"A campfire of pain."


"Sounds like a title for a Goosebumps book."


"That's what Tommy Wish apparently plans to unleash upon me when we fight."


"Interesting."


"Pardon my laughter but if that was supposed to intimidate me. Chalk it up as failure."


"Although, unlike the other threats that were given, at least that one was amusing enough to mention."


"Tommy, if you believe that anything you say or anyone else utters in your stead, will scare me, you are sorely mistaken. You mention my reign as the Bombshell champion like it doesn't matter but did you know that I started my career with that belt? I debuted in the XWF as a champion. How many people can say that? The title wasn't simply handed to me either. I beat Azrael Erebus for it. Have you ever defeated the spaceman, Tommy? How about this one, when did you finally earn a title or any sort of accolade? Cause I'm willing to bet, it was way after your debut. Were you called into the company to bring down an otherworldly being, capable of impossible feats? No. You weren't, were you?"


"Well, then I'd suggest you take a step back and reevaluate who you're calling a weakling because from where I'm standing, it seems that you should fear me. You should be afraid of what I can and will do to you. Oh and there is so much I can do, Tommy. You really have no idea what you're up against. And your silence, won't save you from what I'm prepared to unleash on Saturday Night Savage."


"Get ready to have your campfire extinguished."


"Hope you aren't afraid of the dark..."