1A: Genesis

IN THE BEGINNING, when an old, metaphysical codger was busy making earth and light and life and, for some reason, restrictive laws about eating - or not eating - fruit, a cold rock careened through the irrationally manufactured void.




The emptiness was daunting and profound. At least at first. But it would not last.

Indeed, onward the rock hurtled. On and on through the nebulous velvet of the would-be heavens until the cold was just a loosely defined state the rock existed in for a moment.

In its place was the fire.

That which would snuff the flames.

Still the path was clear. Aflame as it was, the burning rock continued to rocket forward.

Ever forward.

Until the end.

And what lay beyond.

"And that’s where it all came crashing down.”





It felt like I had been asleep for a lifetime. In spite of what I awoke to, some subversive part of me still believed that to be true. Perhaps it was even more than just the one. Perhaps it was none at all. Nobody was looking to find out. Nobody ever paid attention to the discarded bodies of the vanquished, and vanquished I was.

Finally.

I remember that with each drawing of breath, it was as if every tense muscle in my body loosened at the same time. A weight lifted. I was… free.

Finally.

In spite of my purported slumber, said freedoms began to beat me in the face the moment the Universe was forcibly extracted from my shoulders. In the hole in existence left in the wake of the Universe's absence, a forked map of brilliant blue light extended out from where my feet stood as if it were a series of veins stretched across a thin membrane.

Choices.

Left.

Right.

Left.



LEFT               RIGHT
(Make a choice)


Upon each thread, a ghoulish reflection of myself beckoned; each a similar enough facsimile to deceive the unfamiliar. But not me. They called hither but I stood firm, resisting their allure. I knew them for what they were. Their presence was nothing new and I had danced with each of those goblins for your pleasure in sagas past already. There are plenty of echoes here today already.

In the distance, another stream of solid light fell from the aether like a drawbridge outside a haunted castle, lowering of its own volition. My feet carried me towards it, each step causing a silent ripple in the matter beneath. It forked, reaching up into oblivion on one side, and steeping downwards to that same place on the other. As I approached, vertical risers of a darker shade of everything became noticeable within the path as it shifted to become a staircase.

A staircase of choices.


GO UP               GO DOWN
(Actually make a choice this time!!!)

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1B: Pearly Gates

THERE WAS A shining light.

There was a ringing bell.

There was, however, no queue at the pearly gates. Just me and my rejoice. As I lost myself in the tranquillity for half a moment until sandalled feet treading softly upon the clouds drew my ear. Saint Peter's robe billowed behind him. Clutching his book in the pit of his elbow, he stopped in his tracks the moment that our eyes connected.

"Oh for Christ's sake…" he muttered, not quite quiet enough to keep it from my earshot.

"Really?” I asked, leaning into the absurdity of the situation. “You’re just gonna take the Lord’s name in vain? Even here?"

"What?" Saint Peter stammered. "I mean… I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Well Goddamn, Petey, way to commit to the bit.” I looked up to the sky’s sky, awaiting a response to my own blasphemy. Saint Peter sheepishly did the same.

There was no crack of thunder. No ominous signs of forthcoming wrath.

Saint Peter looked both astonished and relieved.

"How…” he began to ask, before shaking the thought from what passes as his mind. He switched tracks. “How are you even here? Again?! Are you still fighting that old doctor? I uh… I got into a lot of trouble after getting involved in that last time."

He's talking about Relentless. As Lou and I battled across the stars, we found ourselves here on this hallowed, umm… fluff. Petey gave us a two-count. Then I accidentally knocked him over.

"No,” I laughed. Good times, that. "While I'm sure Lou and I will play again, the war is well and truly already won. I'm just here because…"

"Because it's the end," Saint Peter filled-in-the-blank and my laugh cleared up. I don't think those were the words that would have come out of my mouth if I had continued, but they still felt right.

"It's been the end before," I offered in a meek protest. "But that was just a metaphor. Like…"

I didn't need to finish the sentence. We both knew.


"I suppose you should give your little book there a once over for my name then," I suggested, accepting my fate. The Keeper of the Keys was half a second ahead of me. The book already open in his hands, Peter rifled through the pages.

He made a series of "mmhmm"s and "ah, I see"s.

"Remember to look under A for ALIAS," I joked, finding my smile again. He rolled his eyes and kept on flicking. The secret was out on his end.

"Sorry ," he said, slamming the book shut so quickly that it ejected an effervescent cloud of angel dust. Not the fun kind, though. But my attention was drawn by the censorship.

My name.

A book I thought that I had slammed shut. And then burnt to a fucking crisp when last it was the end.

"Your name's not in the book, ..." There it was again. It was like he was saying it just to get on my nerves. That saintly cunt. "I don't think this is where you're supposed to be."

"So what does that mean for me?" I pressed.

Saint Peter replied with a jabbing point.

Down.

Down and away from all that is sacred.

Heaven was telling me to fuck off.

Like an obedient little parishioner, I did as I was told.

The choice I needed to make was how far down I was going to go:

BACK TO THE MIDDLE               ALL THE WAY DOWN

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1C: Ring of Fire

WITH EACH STEP I took downwards, the rising heat began to make me sweat. Unease knocked in the back of my mind. I had a hunch as to where these stairs were taking me.

I escaped from hell once already. Would I be able to do it again?

Willingly, I leapt off the final step.


"So theatrical," I scoffed, as I took in my surroundings. When I had entered Hades several months ago, the permanence of its nothingness had added to the dread. A distinct memory of the lifeless water of the river Styx recoiling away from my touch has been etched in my mind ever since. This place though? Seas of lava? Devils with pitchforks? Seemed like a typical Saturday Night.


"Heh…" I let myself chuckle, and set forth into the rancid hellscape.

It was everything you’d expect from such a place. There were no ringing bells. There was no shining light. You don't need me to explain it to you. The antics of this place's foot soldiers are well documented in the annals of our shared history. It's all kind of… meh. Those painted faces of hell's chosen didn't even stand out down here. I walked freely amongst them, unmolested. Another jet of flames? I barely batted an eye. A wall of fire? I walked through it. Unscathed.


True terror is found in that which doesn’t seek to shock. Like the sight of a small figure hunched in a squat on the top of a small rocky outcrop surrounded by (yawn) more lava.

A girl.

The back of her black hair sat barely above her shoulders; the front fell over eyes, obscuring her face. One would have thought her an easy meal for the demons, but they kept a wide berth. Not being one for wisdom, I opted for the opposite approach.

Tiny pebble fragments of the rocks fell away underneath my feet with each step I took up the embankment.

"Hey… are you okay?" I asked when I reached the top of the little butte.

I knew the face as soon as it whipped around to see me. But I didn’t know the dark stars dwelling where her eyes should have been. And I didn't know the bellowing laugh that rang around this abyss of perdition when she saw my face.

"Say my name!" growled the face of The Daughter.

She had a name. Has! It was spoken!


"Say it!" Satan demanded.


"You are not her," I refused. Yes her name has been said, but this is not the realm it belongs to.

The devil understood my ploy. Continuing its assault, the frame of The Daughter twisted into a grotesque abstraction of humanity. Hurrying on legs bent beyond capacity to bear their load, it rushed towards me.

Intimidation. Fear. The devil's only tricks.

I stood my ground and the flames washed off my back once more, flickering like the wings of a phoenix.

"Fine," it muttered, backing off. Forlorn, it retreated back to the edge of the rock and lowered whatever passed for its hindquarters down to the ashen surface. Sitting, it's wretched legs dangled over the edge.

An echo of its surroundings, the devil is such a pitiful thing.

"I'm not dead," I offered, pulling from the little satchel of knowings my mind would allow as I took my own perch on the ledge.

"I know," bemoaned the fiend wearing my daughter's skin. "You can't blame a demon for trying though, eh?"

"No… no, I guess not." I thought it wanted me to laugh there. I didn't.

"You're not supposed to be here," it said. "Now is not your time."

"Will it be?" I wondered. "You know… in the end."

Curiosity killed the cat.


"Only one knows what it's going to be like when everything is said and done," they said.

"And who might that be?"

I knew the answer before it was provided.

Satan replied with a jabbing point

Up.

Rising up and above my vengeance.

Hell was asking me kindly to leave.

Like an obedient little pawn, I did as I was told.

The choice I needed to make was how far up I was going to go:

BACK TO THE MIDDLE               ALL THE WAY UP

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1D: The In-Between

REYKJAVIK, ICELAND.

My feet find solid ground.

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1E: EEEEVVVVVIIIIIIILLLLL!!!!!!11!!!!11!666!!!!!111one

“I KNOW, I know, I know - in the grand scheme of things, I haven’t really been away long, have I? When the comparison from my own history is ten damn years, what’s two months in the void? Still, with the way all you cunts have been acting, it feels like at least as long as the Unknown Soldier’s been gone. What I'm just trying to figure out is whether all the praise and plaudits being showered on ol' Petey Vee are because people are just throwing the cat a bone while the dog's away…

Meow.

…or if you all just straight up forgot about yours truly. It sure as shit can't be that you actually think he's the Master of the fucking Universe now. We all felt the same thing in Reykjavik, kids! A whole country shook. A planet trembled. A whole fucking Universe cried out in joy.

Not for the mountain-climber, but for the mountain.

I am the mountain.

Still.

Credit where it’s due though, Pete, you're one of the few who didn't forget, aren't you? You tried to hold my very existence over Bedshittin’ Jim, and now…

Now I'm holding it over you.

Hope you get past Charlie, bud. I've been waiting months for this.

But if Reykjavik saw the second cumming, we’re gonna need someone to handle the super dick it shot out of. Enter a man who has literally sucked a super dick in the middle of the XWF ring!

Dante, the Unknown Soldier.

‘Cause unknown soldiers have names, right?

Pots and kettles.

Anywho, what a delight this is gonna be! And what a devious little trick you’ve pulled, Soldy, in wiping almost all records of your story from existence. Bra-fucking-vo! All we are left with are the fist-fights themselves, and a few choice words pointed in Michael Graves direction. Such an evil move from such an evil fellow. My good pal NK assured me that he and his good… pal?... Marky Mark didn’t make a booboo while they were knee-deep in the machinery of this joint, so I think it’s probably safer to assume that yes, it was indeed you who wiped history clean. It sure would damage your rep to continue to have all your evil acts available for kids to see anytime they liked, right? Can’t have that! You’re! So! Evil!

…

Wait… maybe the evilness is in the confusion here! Touché, good sir! Err… evil sir.

If I’m even half-way right about your intentions, well… I can kind of respect that. Confusion’s a sliver of my own gig too. Often self-inflicted, but I think that you’d be into that.

Giggidy.

But if I’m more wrong than right about it… well, wouldn’t that be even more evil?! The way I see it: either way, we’re bonding here!

Gee whiz, I think this is going a lot more swimmingly than when I beat the unholy shit out of your old partner in evil. Twice! I don’t know if you guys are still on each other’s Christmas card list, but I figured I’d bring ol’ Lou up as a course of business, so that we can find more ground to relate on. I also mentioned Christmas there, not because of its pagan roots, but because all the unbridled capitalism involved clearly shows that Christmas is the most evil of the holidays.

What I’m seeing here, Soldy, is that in an odd way, there’s a lot of common ground between the two of us. This isn’t a doctor-patient relationship. There is no prince, nor pauper. To put it simply: I am not your opposite. I’m not going to portray myself as some sort of beacon of light against your darkness.

You are fire; as am I.

Hey… should I reuse the line about snuffing out the flames again?

Fuck it, you know what I mean… if you’ve done your homework.

It’s all there, baby.

Nothing deleted.

I’m exposed.

Take a bite.

See… if you have been studying up, you’d know exactly what drives me. Sure, I’m not defending my turf anymore. I’m fucking hunting again instead. For what’s mine. The Universe will be mine again. It has to be. It is, as it ever was, the answer to my question. And I’m not content in dealing with the likes of Barney Green and Tommy Wish.

Unlike some.

That’s your role in this. I’m taking the biggest fucking scalps I can find.

Even if I have to go through hell to get ‘em.

Just means they’ll be nice and cooked for The Eating, eh?

Heeeey-o! Oh, look what I done did! I set up the catchphrase! You’ll have to hold your horses just a smidge longer though, because you’ll note from my tone here, Soldy, that I’m not viewing this as a big grudge match. I’m not doing my best to run you down.

I don’t need to.

I’m just playing with my fucking food.

This is MY story. YOUR return is MY story.

King-Slayer. God-Killer. World-Beater. War-Winner. Legend-Breaker. Devil’s Bain. Wolf-Skinner.

Soldier-Butcher.

I, the Label-Gatherer.

I’ve had two months of my own darkness, and that’s quite enough of that. Your darkness? That’s so last decade. We’re not going back there. YOU are not going back to the mountaintop. Go through the fucking list of everyone who has tried to stop me since I walked the plank back into this shit-stained ocean, and do you know how many people can say that were the same afterwards?

Not a one.

Not a single fucking one.

Some just never achieve their mediocre goals; some change their entire fucking personality. Some bounce the… ahem… hell outta here; some get bounced. It all happens though, within just a month or two of the ALIAS touch.

Nobody has escaped it. Thad lost his mind; Morby and Lou both began a downward spiral; Reggie and Atty took time off; Marf never won those tag team championships; Page and Bobby both got the boot; and has anyone heard from Dolly, or Ash, or Chaos, or Andre, or Caedus, or Lycana, or fucking Big Bitch Baph’? What’s that Robert Main? Meet Thunder fucking Knuckles. Draw a name from a hat - they’re all changed. For the worse. And if I were in your fucking clown shoes, Soldy, I’d be doing some prep work to think about how you want to change, just to get ahead of the damn curve.

Or just fuck off already.

Shit, maybe I am making this into a grudge match after all, eh? I guess this only ends one way. The same fucking way it has ended EVERY time someone has come at me head on and tried to put my shoulders to the mat.

Like Jimbo was too much of a bitch to do.

It ends with a fucking feast.

You know the drill.

Same as it ever was.

I’m going to Eat Unknown Soldier.”

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1F: Revelations

IN THE BEGINNING, the universe exploded into life. From the ice, the fire birthed.

In the end? Well… rest a-fucking-ssured, we're not there.

Yet.

HAIL SATAN ALIAS!

Amen.