We open with a shot of Thrax sitting at an antique wooden table with minimal lighting behind him. The elaborately concealed man is tapping his nails against the wooden tabletop as the camera zooms in on him.

The long night is finally ending. Tomorrow, a new sun will rise across the sky. As the duality of humanity burdens us all, so too shall I burden the moon with my shining brilliance.

Thrax stops tapping his nails as a tarot card flies out of his sleeve. Thrax holds the card face up with his right hand in front of the camera.



The sun card has been drawn: the game is all but over.

Thrax snaps the fingers on his left hand and lets go of the tarot card. When Thrax releases his grip the sun card stays elevated.

Tarot cards contain immense power within them. The tides of destiny, the strands of fate: they are imperceivable to the human eye. As mere beings we are constantly torn between the multitude of paths before us. We can think, we can know, and we can try to act on that knowledge: but what is knowledge?

Mere illusion. Mere fantasy. Knowledge is nothing more than a hunch in this magical world.

Only the tarot cards can speak with certainty.

Thrax looks over to the sun card floating slightly to his left.

Corey Smith does not adequate knowledge to see what his magic fingers drew from the deck.

The sun card is the trump card. The sun card is the sign of rebirth, of renewed rigor.

The child on the card…….

Thrax points one of his nails...or perhaps, claws….at the small child riding the white horse.

Is the strongest man in the universe. In the tarot deck this child signifies the return of life and the fulfilling of destiny.

This child is an awe inspring creature, one unperturbed by the twin devils of fear and anxiety. There is nothing that can keep this child down, keep this child from dreaming of their future….from reaching for it and making it a reality.

Have you ever been around children, Corey Smith? I have.

Have you ever beat a child, Corey Smith? I have.

They don’t stay depressed for long. Within a matter of hours they have regained their optimism and their spirits. Every single day that a child wakes up, they experience a whole new world to explore. To conquer. Despite the reality of their past, the child can always find a shining path towards success.

The child is a joyous one. This child is unbound, imaginative, and free to roam where it pleases.

Thrax’s claw drifts down to the white horse on the card.

The horse represents magical assistance. The child, an optimistic creature, can never fail so long as that horse is beneath him. The horse has blessed the child with greatness, for the child is the most deserving of all.

Those that dwell in the past, those that cling to their negativity, those that refuse to grow or adapt...will never be chosen by the white horse of greatness. Men like DOCK….will never know the sweet saddle of the white horse. Men like DOCK cling to their failures, obsess over them, change their entire identity in the face of one obstacle. Men like DOCK have succumbed to the age old temptations, men like DOCK have fallen into the darkness never to return.

The sun may have shined brightly upon Doc’s armor at one time….but now? Now he has lost his path. He has fallen into an abyssal crater of his own making…..the white horse of greatness will never choose DOCK again. The white horse of greatness has already chosen another in this race- isn’t that right, Corey Smith?

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME to sit in it’s saddle upon the moon.

But how could you blame it for choosing me?

I am everything so many wish they could be. I am a record breaker, I am a trendsetter, I am a RELENTLESS foe.

My resume is nearly as long as my list of victims. The longest reigning television champion of all time, the most decorated heavymetalweight champion of all time, superstar of the month, man of the hour: I’ve been all that and then some.

But I don’t dwell on my past. My gaze is fixed on my future.

On RECLAIMING my stolen body! On expelling that communist filth from my body! On flying down from the moon with a briefcase and your stolen honor! On becoming what I was always destined to be….a universal champion.

I am the man everyone has been talking about, yet no one has talked about me at all.

I find myself in this quiet quagmire….in this isolated conundrum.

But still I hold no fear. Still I know what I must do to reach the pinnacle. I could drown in your silence yet still I would come back and take what is rightfully mine.

That’s why the white horse chose ME for the ride to greatness.

But what about you, Corey Smith? What do the cards of divinity have to say about your fate upon the moon?

Thrax cocked his head to the side as he stared into the camera. The man snapped his fingers and the card did a 180. A new piece of art was elevated directly to the left of Thrax’s body.




The reverse king of cups. A classic, albeit tragic, card.

You see folks, Corey Smith is so desperate with trying to control his world that has lost every semblance of control altogether. He thinks he sits oh so high on his throne, looking down at the peasants below…..but in truth he is sinking. Sinking, sinking, sinking…..

Losing to THUNDER KNUCKLES? A man I have defeated countless times? A man who has never defeated me for a championship belt? A man whose skull I turned concave?

Could the man who tops the XWF top 50 really sink THAT low?

No, never.

But COREY SMITH could.

But Corey Smith likes to pretend he’s still the engineer, doesn’t he? Not interpersonally, of course: oh no no. But on camera? He’ll take credit for The Engineer’s work all day long. For Engy’s greatness, for Engy’s victories, for Engy’s legendary status…..

Corey Smith reminds me of another identity thief. Just like Demos, Corey Smith is infatuated with taking credit for things he never did, for things he will never be able to do.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a singles championship. Not. Once. Neither has Demos: yet still both men feel the urge to take credit for the legacy of another. Well, unless you feel so inclined to count those spinning trinkets that Vinnie Lane passes out.

Corey Smith has NEVER won a CHAMPIONSHIP, of any kind! Don’t you recall, folks, who it was that defeated Cataclysm to win the tag team gold? It wasn’t Corey Smith. He never WON the gold. Did he defend? Yes, and valiantly so, as long as Doc D’Ville was beside him. But now Doc has added the first of three Ks to his name and now Corey Smith longs for another chance at holding gold.

It is no surprise that Demos and Corey Smith both chose to enter this match…..how else could either of them win a championship? They’ve both proven countless times over that they're incapable of the feat. One through countless failures, one through countless ‘missed’ opportunities…..but you never really ‘missed’ an opportunity, did you, Corey?

You refuse to take them!

You are so afraid of failure that you refuse to put yourself out there and risk it all along the way.

You couldn’t enter the King of the Ring because you were only at ‘90%’? You couldn’t man up and challenge Chris Page to a match because he’s…..not a good enough champion? I mean, he has only defeated scrubs like Demos, Edgar, Drew, and THADDEUS DUKE, so clearly that is a man that is beneath Corey’s impeccable status.

Corey Smith seems to have planted an entirely new type of tree in his luxurious mansion. It seems that every time Corey Smith walks out to shoot a promo a new batch of excuses fall from the sky and land into his lap! Demos will have to get himself one of those….if he survives long enough to come back to Earth, that is.

But really, Corey Smith: what kind of a pussy will only enter a match at peak physical health? We put each other through tables, we bash each other with chairs, we cut each other open with barbed wire! Not a single man or woman on this roster can truthfully claim to be free of aches and pains! It’s the curse of the professional wrestler: the show must go on, even when YOU can not. You must FIND a way to deliver, ALWAYS.

Unless you’re Corey Smith.

Then you can hide behind the accomplishments of another man while doing the bare minimum in-ring to skate by.

The white horse of greatness has chosen ME because I have ALWAYS taken a leap of faith in myself: I never skirt a challenge or doubt my capacity. I am always ready for the fight. I wanted all the smoke, all your fire Corey Smith: but you made a classic mistake.

A Ghost Tank mistake, if you will.

You see Corey Smith….you’re the classic King of Cups in reverse. You think your empire untouchable, you think yourself to be moving pieces across the chess board like an all knowing leviathan. You sent your armies out to wage war, knowing that they would slaughter your enemies and salt their fields. But Corey Smith….your own arrogance is achilles heel.

You sent your soldiers to the wrong battlefield. You misjudged the field: you mistook name recognition for superstar power.

You failed to see what was in front of you, no matter how obvious I made it. No matter how many times I referenced my championship reigns, my esteemed pedigree, or my impervious vitality, Corey Smith could never read the signs. At least Jim Caedus TRIED to read the signs….it’s just such a shame the poor boy is dyslexic!

Thrax snapped his fingers again and the card flew at the camera, bouncing off the lens.

Your famed insight has failed you, Corey Smith. It has failed you twice over.

First, you made the ghost tank mistake. You emptied your load before the battle had even begun. You are all out of rockets, all out of artillery. What hope can you have when I begin to mow you down from afar? From beyond your wildest dreams? What hope does a resourceless man have of overcoming a siege?

And secondly, Corey Smith: you forgot to count all the pieces on the board. In your hastiness you grew sloppy, careless. You lost track of the enemy, my movements must have never reached your scouting reports.

Shame.

On you.

For being so self-assured, so smug, so egotistical that you never thought for a second an unknown entity could come in and knock your jaw off.

You may have stated my name a thousand times during the past two weeks, but each time you spoke it to an imposter! Each time you dragged my name through the mud, you thought only in reference to that grotesque man in the sweaty mask. Every time my name escaped your lips, you misspoke. Every time you thought you were calling me week, every time you thought you were impugning my achievements, you were really just referencing my shadow on the wall.
And what good will it do you to fight my shadow when the real thing stands before you on the moon? What good will it do to be under the illusion that another, far weaker man, IS me? What good will that do you when I’m bashing your brains out on the dark side of the moon?!?!

You have blinders on. You have tunnel vision. But how can we blame you? You were just following the crowd! The esteemed Corey Smith was just doing what everyone else was doing by ignoring the true threats before him!

And guess what? When we reach the moon, Corey Smith will continue playing along with the crowd. Corey Smith will continue doing exactly what DOCK, Jim, Demos, and Chaos have been doing all this time: losing.

Check. Mate.


End Scene


We cut to a shot of a burned up carcass sitting across from the Djinn that ‘saved’ him from hell. The two are seated across from each other at an ornate golden table. Xian looks up at Thrax with a determination in her eye.

“Do you understand your mission?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what you must do?”

“Yes.”

Thrax’s urge to roll his eyes was nearly overwhelming, but he was able to conceal it. The Djinn had been nothing but a demanding bitch ever since she ‘freed’ Thrax from hell. Thrax was growing tired of her constant nagging and second-guessing, but he knew he would soon be free from her grasp if he just played the role a little while longer.

“Do you know how you’re going to do it?”

“Why don’t you tell me again, master, so that I don’t forget?”

Thrax’s defeated tone sounded so natural that the Djinn didn’t question it for a second.

“I’m going to go over the whole plan with you again, so that you don’t forget it anymore.

Step 1: I am going to bring you back to the mortal plane, which I can not cross into. I will repair your wounds and outfit you with the appropriate gear for the occasion.

But remember: don’t stay on the mortal plane for too long, darling. Normally I would put you back in your old corpse and let you wander the physical realm as my ghoul, but alas, your body is being put to use by another at the moment, so we will make do with what we must.

Step 2: You will weasel your way into the dissentients. I’ll give you the perfect outfit for it. Marf has always been distracted by fancy capes and bright colors. Him and Lycana won’t think twice about accepting such a demonic aesthetic into their ranks.

Step 3: You cost the dissentients their matches at Leap of Faith.”

“And then?”

Thrax asked, already knowing the answer.

“And then I give you a pat on the back and send you on your merry way. I believe you were just about to visit the second layer of hell, yes?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Thrax was barely able to conceal the venom behind his words. He had no intention of going along with the Djinn’s plans. Thrax had seen enough of a hell for a lifetime.

“Alright then, I have prepared you to the best of my ability. Come back to me in one piece, child of hell, and Rolfe may just take pity on you and bring you into our fold…”

Thrax knew the woman was full of shit. Thrax knew that he was nothing but a tool to her, nothing but an object to be put to use. Thrax knew that the light at the end of this tunnel was nothing but a death sentence….he knew he would have to burst through the ceiling to escape the oncoming train.

“I am ready for the mission, master.”

The Djinn smiled before standing up. With the snap of her fingers a green portal appeared directly behind the charred corpse.

“Go on then, child of hell. Carry out our will!”

Thrax rose to his feet and made eye contact with the woman of Marf’s nightmares. Before he turned to leave, the Djinn spoke to him one last time.

“Tell me, soldier of fortune: what do you want most in this world? Perhaps, if you carry out your mission flawlessly, I could convince Rolfe to have it waiting for you when you’re done.”

Thrax scowled at the woman as he bore his canines at her.

“I WANT MY HUMANITY BACK!”

The Djinn’s eyes widened as she went to snap the portal closed. It was too late. Thrax ducked through the green portal seconds before the Djinn was able to close it!

“No...no…..no….I must no tell Rolfe!”

The scene fades to black as the camera zooms in on the Djinn's horrified face.

End Scene


I was going to let Jim Caedus do the honors of introducing me to the field, but it appears the pussycat folded his hand as soon as his bluff was called. He thought he knew what was swirling around in the darkness around him. He spoke to it, in hushed whispers, during the middle of his second vignette. He knew what was happening….he aimed his rifle, he set his sights on his target, and then he pulled the trigger. Imagine Jim’s surprise when his magic bullet hit nothing but the shadow on the wall.

Jim Caedus thought, for a brief moment, that he had broken free from my webs of deception. But in truth, he couldn’t have been more wrong…..

All this time I was sure it would be the mighty Doc D’Ville who would see through my cheap ploys and distracting tactics. Doc and I had fought before, a legendary bout atop a snow covered roof. Doc is a professional, Doc is a psychological genius. Doc is able to cut through falsehoods like a knife through butter.

Doc is trained in the art of dispelling deception, he’s accredited in the field.

But it appears that DOCK is nowhere near the mental giant that Doc once was.

It appears that Doc D’Ville has found himself in my unfortunate position: he has been cast out of his body and forced to watch the ensuing trainwreck. DOCK is too busy obsessing over his own failures in the ring to take a gander at the men standing across from him.

Doc D’Ville knows me well...he knows how I speak, he knows how I act, he knows how I THINK. Doc D’Ville has always had a counter for each and every one of my assaults….but DOCK? He just doesn’t have it in him. That little voice inside of his head, the one that did all the thinking, it seems to have vanished alongside the true D’Ville. What a shame. I was hoping to rebirth my legacy by destroying that of the good doctor’s. It’s a pity that I have to settle for the man that stands in his place.

DOCK couldn’t decipher the clues. Jim couldn’t decipher the clues. Chris and Corey never even tried…..

But perhaps SOME of you have caught on to my sly tricks by now. Perhaps, by now, some of you have started to decipher the writing on the wall.

But for those of you who are still trapped in the darkness, allow me to introduce myself…..

Thrax pulled back his latex mask and exposed his true face for the world to see.