As he sits alone in the locker room, he looks down at the blood stained white tape on his fists. He knows that he only lost because of a crooked referee and the weakness of his partner. A sick smile spreads across his lips as he thinks about what he can and will do to Peter Gilmour. He's tasted his blood. There is no turning back now, because the Last Son of Eden has developed a new addiction. Peter Gilmour's blood.

He slowly begins to unwrap the tape from his large fists, thinking about the way he had decimated the team of Dim and Gilmour. He knew he had to step up his in ring game when he fought Austin Fernando in one hell of a barn burner. It was then that his inspiration returned.

The fire was burning once more, and no one could extinguish this blaze deep within his heart. He had become so consumed by the fire that all he could think about was his next move. His next move had nothing to do with his opponents, but more so the prestigious Hart Championship.

This was a championship held by the greats, a championship defended in every country around the world. This championship was named for the famous Hart family.

The tape begins to pile in the floor as Peter Gilmour's dried blood stings his nostrils. However, he doesn't crinkle his nose. He welcomes the smell of the champion's blood and now longs for the taste. His smile fades momentarily as he thinks about the third man in the match.

Mason Prince was no pushover. Cain knew this. He'd faced this young man before and barely come up short. This was a time when his competitive fire had died a bit. He knew this and deep down he knew that Prince knew the win was what most would consider a fluke.

The boy barely escaped with his life. Cain knew this.

He stands, his thigh muscles burning a bit. The left knee had more a prominent ache to it, and he grimaced. Fighting with all of one's heart had its disadvantages. Even his shoulder ached as he rolled it, remarking to himself "Fat ass Peter Gilmour."

He knows he has to heal up before Snow Job. His injuries will not cause him to lose, for he is not a normal human being. He is a Beast. A warrior. Pain means nothing to him whenever he thinks about the Hart Championship.

He pulls his tights down around his ankles and heads into the shower area. Surveying the area he doesn't see anyone there nor does he smell the scent of anyone. The shower room was devoid of human life and for him that was excellent.

After all, he doesn't play well with others. Who can blame the man from Eden? His own mother and father had chosen his brother over him. God had chosen Abel over him.

As the steam rose from the scalding water, he shook his head. They would soon see that this "joke" was not a joke at all. Their amusement would leave them much like the thousands of lights this Dark Warrior had snuffed out.

He winces as he runs his loufa over his battered arms, soap creeping down his forearms and dripping from his fingers. As he raised his left arm, this drew forth an audible groan. His rotator cuff has taken a beating. His body is sore.

Once again, pain is nothing. Pain is temporary. Pride is eternal.

His lips curl upward. He's thinking about it, and he will think about it as he falls asleep at night. "It" is his name, plastered on every poster in the XWF Locker room. "It" is the feeling of the Hart Championship around his waist. "It" is this ever growing craving for the blood of Peter Gilmour, mixed with Mason Prince's in a cocktail of joy.

Enjoyable for Cain, less than than enjoyable for his targets.

Ever since he'd gotten into this sport, even he'd wondered why. Why would an expert killer become a pro wrestler? Why wouldn't he just slaughter people like Hogan? Like The Rock? He'd get his name in the papers.

But after his match with Austin Fernando, he'd found his answer. After his match just now, that answer suddenly became clearer than ever.

The competition. The challenge.

The Hart of a Warrior. He would have his prize, come damnation or salvation. He promised himself. Not only that, but he'd promised his daughter and surrogate son, Xerces.

As he stepped out of the shower and into the steam filling the room, he stepped to the mirror above the sink. Still naked, he reached up with a large hand and wiped the mirror.

As he looked at himself, standing there, his lips curled upward into a grin. A new pride had appeared in those brown eyes. For once in his long, drawn out existence he felt different. He felt human.

It was then that he knew that he had to incite Peter to be the man he claimed to be. This competition was a drug that the bad ass Son of Eden could not put down.

He needed it.

---

"Luca Arzegotti."

There was a moment of hesitation as he sat there, dressed to impress in his ten thousand dollar Armani suit. Blue blazer, white shirt, red tie. Hair slicked back. Very professional looking. His knowledge of this sport had taught him of the Nick Bockwinkles, Harley Races, and Ric Flair's.

If he was to be a champion, then he would present himself as one. He narrowed his eyes on the camera, intense hatred burning in them.


"You think that I will forget what you did to me, that I would forget that filthy hand of your's slapping the mat faster than Gilmour eats chimichangas off the assessment of gay Puerto Rican prostitutes. But know this, Luca. There will surely come a day where this monster you were a "staunch supporter of" will lay his hand upon you. There will come a day where vengeance will be mine, and I will destroy you just as I will destroy my opponents at Snow Job."He points at the camera, dead serious look in his eyes. "Know it and expect it."

"However, there are more important things at stake now than petty vengeance. If anything, your screwing me without so much as a date has benefitted me. How does it make you feel, #memequeen? "Y u no lyk me?" Truth is, I don't really care. It's inconsequential. I get my chance to shine at the first pay per view of 2015."

Let it be known that Cain had never been so focused. So determined. The look in his eyes was different somehow. It was almost as if he'd changed and if you knew him, it was known that this change was for the better. He smiled slightly.

"Might I add that this chance to shine is long overdue, as this passion for the business burns like a dark flame, and it consumes my very being."

"Now many people have asked me "Cain, why do you even bother with professional wrestling? Why not just kill every single one of them? Go with your true nature, the nature of the Beast. Why choose competition over decimation?". You surely ask this because you know my history and believe my legend as well you should. To you, the answer is clouded. To me, it's clearer than freshly blown glass."

He'd had a revelation when he'd faced Austin that night. The roar of the crowd, the blood pumping from the overdose of adrenaline. His heart, for the first time in thousands of years, was alive.

"Competition. Competition is a new drug to me, and I have become addicted. You know, people do drugs mostly because of the way it makes them feel. I am no different, I am an addict of the competition because it is the only thing that makes me feel human."

For a moment, the Last Son of Eden's eyes darkened. You could see moisture welling up, but you knew he would swallow those tears back.

"Just imagine being in my shoes before you talk your shit and make your jokes. Imagine that you are an immortal being, cursed to wander this world forever falsely portrayed as a punk. That's right, your "Holy Bible" portrays me as an angsty teen. But your Lord's word is a lie."

"Deep down I am a warrior, and every fuckin' time I step into that ring, that's what you will see. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Peter Gilmour, you are the one who wears a mask. You portray yourself as a bad ass ladies' man with a super cock. Your portray yourself as the best thing to happen to our sport, but man, are you wrong."

"You're not much different from me."

He said this knowing full well that he wasn't well liked here in the land of Xtreme. He was once viewed as "enhancement talent" before this new fire had been ignited in his deep, black heart.

"There are as many Gilmour jokes as there are Cain jokes. You know this. People laugh at you. Yes, that's the only thing we have in common. Because when it comes down to it, people know that I am whatever I say I am, whereas you are a fraud."

"You are a phony and for all the shit you talked, it amounted to nothing. You wouldn't have beaten me without Luca's help and you know this."

"Guess what though, Peter? At Snow Job, you won't have Dimallisher. You won't have Luca Arzegotti, unless you prove what a coward you are by creating a Special Referee stipulation. So just consider that if your stipulation turns out to be for a guest referee, then you are admitting it."

"You can't beat me without help."

"So this is the part where I ask you for the only favor I will ever ask a piece of trash like you. I know this may seem hard for you, being as how you are Morbid Angel's bitch, but be a fucking man Peter. Face Mason and I as a man, not a silly little boy with delusions of greatness. Prove to me that you are as good as you claim to be, without your Donald Trump or your Dimallisher."

"Take that mask off that you wear, the mask of a wannabe bad ass and give me a real challenge"

"Make no mistake about it, you will be losing your precious Hart Championship, and if I see fit, your faux Maria Brink. But at the end of that night, I want to be able to say that I earned my Hart Championship against the King of Extreme."

"So don't be a pussy, Gilmour."

He knew there was more to Gilmour than the stupidity and cowardice the fat sonuvabitch had shown him. He knew that this man at one time was an amazing competitor, just like he himself was and is now. He wanted to light that fire in Peter and feed on that competitive nature. He wanted his best and his worst.

"Be a man."[/color]

His lips curled upwards once more, excitement growing within him. He'd made little mention of Mason Prince, but now would be a good time to give the kid a little "shout out" as it were.

"As for you, Mason Prince, I am giving you what you wanted the night we faced off. I am giving you the true warrior known as Cain, and things will be different this time. You see I had reserved myself to not caring whether I won or lost that night."


He shook his head and sneered.

"But no more. You will be in a lot of pain, but then again so will Peter Gilmour. You will see a reckless abandon for human life and your own well being. But at the end of the night, Mason, you're just going to come up short just like Peter will."

"I will not lose. This is my time and it's a time in which a new King of the Land of Xtreme will be crowned. It's a time when I bring the heart of a warrior and leave..."

He chuckled gleefully, almost maniacally.

"Your NEW XWF Hart Champion. That's already my title. Peter is just holding it for me until I am ready to take it."

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