Saturday 15th December 2012

The pure whiteness of the room hit him as he opened his eyes. He stared around the room, puzzled by the complete silence of it. Normally the supposed ‘professional’ didn’t shut the fuck up. It was a departure from tradition for him to be there. It had been two weeks since Zachary Hysell’s last appearance on XWF programming under his alias, Tyler Decker. Two weeks since Professor Derek Baxter had organised that screwjob to silently remove Decker from XWF programming, to ruin his chances of making it to the final of the Lethal Lottery. Of course the pigs had backed him up. They gave permission for Decker to be put on indefinite suspension. To ‘help with his treatment’ was the incessant excuse that they had slapped on him. It was obvious to anyone that knew anything that Derek Baxter, despite his ‘welcoming’ attitude, was nothing more than a liar, a corrupt businessman. He’d been scratched off of the XWF cards faster than Oscar Pistorius’ hall of fame induction, forced to survive weeks of endless therapy, left with barely any contact with the outside world and the constant nagging of the ‘professional’ that they had assigned to him.

He looked through the door and out towards the corridor, the serene silence eerie and somewhat intimidating. There was no one; the annoying receptionist who was normally typing away on her keyboard was nowhere to be seen. He approached the elevator and pushed the button. Normally he was more inclined to take the staircase (he tried to keep association with the psychos at a minimum) but today was different. For a start, there were no psychos to bother him. He stared around at the elevator’s interior as the crappy music played behind him. Something here wasn’t quite right. He stood up straight as the elevator reached the ground floor. As the doors parted he was greeted to yet more eerie, bizarre silence. He reached the front desk and saw that the front receptionist was also nowhere to be found. In her place was a solitary note.



Puzzled, Hysell looked down at the note then at the door behind the desk. It led to a room that he had never entered before, and he approached it with some caution. He somewhat nervously twisted the door handle and shoved it open, surprised at how easily it swung open. Hysell entered the room, and immediately saw two giant men sprawled out on the floor. He knew them instantly; they were the doormen that the psychiatrist had hired to check on him. He looked down and saw them completely unconscious, to the point that Hysell had to check to make sure they were still breathing. He looked around the room, trying to find out what had happened to them. Whoever had done it had made a clean getaway; there was no sign of a forced entry or even a struggle on the bodies of the two fallen behemoths. The room was neat, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, except for one small detail. To anyone else it would probably mean nothing, it would be seen as a mere accessory belonging to one of the doctors, and maybe that’s all it was, but as he looked at the light grey fedora hanging on the back of the door, a sinister but nonetheless relieved smile crossed the face of Zachary Hysell.

Monday 17th December 2012

The sudden pound on the door caused Hysell to wake with a start. The walls of the flat that he was staying in were thin, and the door sounded like it was about to come off its hinges with the loud knock.

“POLICE! OPEN UP HYSELL!” came the roar from the other side of the door. Hysell fell to the floor and stumbled up to the door. He was barely dressed and he hadn’t shaved. The sunlight caused him to flinch as he opened the door, and as it opened, he was immediately wrestled to the ground by a police officer. He winced in pain as he felt his arms pulled behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…….”

Hysell zoned out as the police officer read him his rights. He’d heard it all before. It had reached the stage that being arrested wasn’t even an interest anymore. When he heard the police officer finish, he was hoisted to his feet.

“So, uh, what have I done this time?” he said, a smile on his face. To his surprise the police officer neglected to answer him and just pushed him out of the door, the other officer locking the door behind him. “I’m a bit concerned about my modesty here guys…”

“Clothes will be given to you when you reach the station” came the short reply.

Hysell felt himself be pushed into the car and felt the vehicle’s engine start. He turned and looked out the window; he knew he wouldn’t be in there for long. Part of his release last time was under the condition that his new accommodation was within a set radius of the police station. Sure enough, about 5 minutes later the car parked and Hysell was pulled out and frogmarched into the station. The police officer received a knowing nod from the receptionist and practically threw Hysell into an interrogation room.

It must have only been five minutes before Detective Michael Reeves entered the interrogation room. Upon entering, he took one look at Hysell before shaking his head, a smile on his face.

“Something funny?” asked Hysell bitterly.

“Just you, Zachary” Reeves responded, the smile not leaving his face. “I told you that you’d be back. It’s the life of crime, it never leaves you…”

“Aren’t you supposed to believe in rehabilitation? Anyway, more important than that, I did nothing wrong.”

The detective took the seat opposite him and fixed him with a hard look.

“So what, I’m supposed to believe that nothing happened? That you saw nothing and had nothing to do with it?” asked Reeves.

“Hey, could I get some clothes?” came Hysell’s retort.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION”

“Clothes first.”

Reeves sighed and glared at Hysell. He motioned to the Perspex screen and immediately a beat cop came in with a cheap pair of jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt. He threw them at Hysell, who put them on as Reeves looked away in disgust. When Hysell was decent, Reeves turned again to his captive.

“So are you going to tell….” began Reeves, but he was interrupted by a sudden entry into the room.

“Sir…” said the beat cop.

“Do you mind, Peterson? As you might be able to tell, I’m in the middle of something here…”

“It’s from Detective Thomas. You are to let him go” Peterson said nervously, pointing to Hysell. Reeves turned and glared at his prisoner. “He also said to give you this…”

The officer placed a piece of paper flat down on the table. Both Hysell and Reeves immediately looked down at the paper. Upon seeing the writing on it, a puzzled look appeared on the face of Reeves. He looked up at Hysell, then back down at the piece of paper. Upon seeing the lettering on the paper, his first instinct was shock. He looked outside through the Perspex, trying to find the man he was looking for, but he was nowhere to be found. He shot a look at Reeves who just sat opposite him, practically catatonic with rage. Hysell took the opportunity to quickly stand up and leave the cell, walking with haste out of the door and looking around the busy street. There was still nothing.

Back in the interrogation room, both Reeves and Peterson looked down at the letter in confusion.

“What does it mean, sir?” Peterson asked.

“I have no idea, but there’s something not quite right here…”

Reeves sat down again, and Peterson quietly left through the door. It looked like Hysell had escaped again, but he was determined to get him. Never in his career had he come across what had been written on the letter before, and as he picked it up to examine it again, he tried to figure out, to no avail, until he slammed the table against the wall in frustration. As Detective Reeves stormed out the room, the letter and what was written on it became apparent for the first time. They were mere letters, but they were letters that had saved Hysell from quite a charge against him. All that was on the piece of paper were the initials

D.A.F.D.S



None of you can say that you saw this coming. Nobody thought, going into Shove It Saturday, that you would ever see Tyler Decker again, let alone aligning himself with three of the biggest names in the XWF today. Last time you saw me, I was pinning Mark Flynn and T*istan S*ater in the same match, but then I mysteriously disappeared. But believe me, my absence was definitely for the better. See, since I’ve been gone, I’ve changed my view on a number of things. The way I view the fans, for instance. When I came out to attack The Black Circle, immediately you jumped to my side, glad that you had another hero to look up to, to idolise, to worship.

Well save your fucking breath.

I don’t give a shit about the fans. And don’t mistake that as me being ‘controversial’ by coming out and saying that. I am merely stating the truth. None of them matter to me. I am back in this cesspool because I have been enlightened, and I am willing to help spread that enlightenment to the whole roster. To the people that replaced me in your minds and in your hearts. Sure, I’ll start with The Black Circle, but then eventually I’ll move on. I’ll move on to Cyren, to Hickster, to Angelus, to Mark Flynn. All of them need the chance of enlightenment that I have got, and believe me, all of them will be enlightened.

Which brings me onto my opponents.

You have quite an honour here gentlemen. You have a chance to embarrass a returning XWF star in his first match back, as well as beat one of the most established and talented people ever to grace this company. Are you sure that you’re ready for this? This is a big fucking ask for a pair so inexperienced, so, dare I say, untalented, as yourselves. Let’s face it, the ball is in your court. No one expects you to win. The question is, Gabriel, Ronnie, will you go out and try your hardest to prove them wrong? To make names for yourselves? Or will you do what is expected of you and just accept the pain, the humiliation, the destruction that is coming to you. I think we all know which option you two are going to take.

Don’t worry gentlemen, I am here to help. I have seen the light, and now so shall you.