"Of all the things I've lost I miss my mind the most."

- Ozzy Osbourne



I-70/I-15 merge
Utah
Tuesday
12 AM

The trip was still in the back of his mind, like remembering a dream. A few short days ago, the Ex-Detective followed this same road on his way to Denver. Only now, he's going the opposite direction. After being arrested in Grand Junction, and held for a day and half being questioned, he is being extradited back to Las Vegas in the back of a police transport.

He managed to save his wallet from the fire. Only because it was in his back pocket when he opened his eyes that evening. When he was brought to jail, they of course ran him through the system. To find out, this man is supposedly deceased. And that raised a few questions.



Grand Junction, Colorado
Sunday Morning

Police Chief Daniels- Well, sonny, I do believe I'm staring at a ghost...


Trevor- What are you talking about?

The Chief stares at the Ex-Detective through the bars of the holding cell.

Chief Daniels- A fire broke loose in the building you resided two nights ago. That building was destroyed along with the two beside them. Five people died, Mister Dedntik. Well, only four now. Where were you on the night of September 12th?

Trevor- On my way to Denver.

Chief Daniels- And why is that?

Trevor- Had a doctor's appointment.

Chief Daniels- Very funny. I guess you don't realize how much trouble your in here, boy. We've already contacted the Las Vegas Police Department, they want you extradited right away. I understand you've already had quite a history there. Detective.

The Ex-Detective leans into the bars a bit more. He whispers.

Trevor- Listen to me. You don't want to do this. I really have to get to Denver. It's very important.

The Chief leans in with him.


Chief Daniels- You're not making a whole lot of sense here. You'd best be careful what you say around here, my boy. People might think you're going mad. We'll come get you when your transport arrives.

The Ex-Detective slams against the bars and walks away. He sits on the bench on the far side of the cell.

Great. Just great.



I-15
Near Dawn
Tuesday

The Doctor is once again walking along a lonsome highway. It is hours after the Monday Madness event, and he walks without the Television Title.

It is a very dark night. The clouds in the sky cover what light the moon or stars could provide. The only light to be seen is the cherry from his cigar as he puffs away. Already booked in yet another Main Event for Monday Madness, his next destination is Houston, Texas. But, judging by the markers on the road, he's headed west from Denver and is in Utah now. In the distance, he sees a police van off the side of the road and on it's side. All four tires are slashed and hang from the rims and several windows are smashed out of it.

Doctor D'Ville- Well, what do we have here.

The Doctor smiles and approaches it. Upon reaching it he looks all around it and sees no one. He opens the double back doors to the back door he sees no one in the van. He climbs the door and sits on top, or on the side, of the van.

Doctor D'Ville- Hello, my friends. It's me again, Doctor Louis D'Ville! It would seem we've had a bit of an accident here.

The Doctor puffs again from his cigar. The smell of gas lingers all through the air.

Doctor D'Ville- A few short hours ago, I fell just a hair short of becoming the new XWF Television Champion. Or I suppose a foot short would make more sense. Take this win in stride, Jacob. You haven't seen the last of the Doctor, my friend. A mere battle in a war that's only just begun. Because as I walk in stride, I will go through as many patients I need to, as I did before, to come face to face with you again.

The smell of gasoline grows stronger. The Doctor jumps of the van and walks away from it. The source of the smell is coming from a puncture in the gas tank.

Doctor D'Ville- It seems my practices have been noticed by some already though. I've been placed in a Main Event, for the second week in a row. My new patient, Mister Loverboy. Vinnie Lane. A rockstar. A playboy. A perfect next patient. Coming off a loss as well, I'm sure you will have lots to talk about Mister Lane. Please, share with the Doctor. As I've said, my doors are always open, my friend. I am all ears, and with hard work, we can both work through this. I know it must be terribly hard these days for you. As a solo Trios Tag Team Champion, turning your back on Zoey Ryback the moment the titles were won, and you are abandoned by Clean Lucena weeks later. A friend of yours? Some friend to leave you hanging by the belts you wear so proudly. I've had my eye on you already Mister Lane and I believe a few sessions with the Doctor will do you some good.

As the Doctor continues down the highway, he throws his cigar towards the van and the gasoline that covers the road catches fire. In a few short moments the entire van is in flames after a large explosion.


I-15
12:49 AM
Tuesday

The Ex-Detective remains quite in the back of the police van. He's handcuffed from his ankles, to his wrists, and to his waist. On the bench he sits, he's strapped to the sides of the van and unable to move.

They really know how to make a guy feel like a Goddamn fugitive around here... Fucking Lou. Blowing up my fucking apartment, I knew this would come back and bite me in the ass.

The police van travels along I-15 through Utah heading south. In a couple of hours they will cross the Nevada border and only be another couple hours away from Las Vegas. The last place the Ex-Detective wanted to be right now.

Suddenly, there are a four loud bangs that came from the bottom of the van. It begins swearving back and forth down the road into on coming traffic and then off of the road into a ditch. It rolls over several times and lands on its side. The Ex-Detective still strapped into his seat is looking his back to the sky and face toward the ground. A struggle is heard from the outside towards the front of the van and then it goes silent.

It's about time, Doc...

The back doors swing open and the Ex-Detective is blinded by several flashlights pointed at his face.

"It's him! Cut him down!"

Oh, shit.

That voice was definitely not the Doctor, the Ex-Detective thought to himself. He recognized the one, but they may as well have been the same. Three men in suits climb into the van. One of them reaches up with a knife and cuts the straps that secured the Ex-Detective in place and away from harm from the accident. He falls to the ground face first. He speaks with his nose still buried into the side of the van.

Trevor- Hello, boys. Come to rescue me, I see.

The Ex-Detective is lifted off the ground only to be smacked in the back of the head, which what he could of guessed was the butt of a gun. With no time to argue what it could be he is out cold and carried to the trunk of one of the three black cars parked back on the road.



**The above banner created by Azrael Erubus.
*Song "Mr. Crowley" by Ozzy Osbourne. Covered by Cradle of Filth.