"War is the trade of kings..."

― John Dryden



Hail to the King.

On a trip from Arlington, Kentucky to the vast New York City, without pit-stops and without much traffic, it should take approximately fifteen hours. Nine hundred and sixty-six miles to be fairly correct. Our two heroes were reunited once again in Carlisle County when the Ex-Detective was held for a night in the small towns jail. The reason for is arrest is still unknown to the Ex-Detective, not as if it would matter. He recently stopped carrying any identification on him and judging by the ambition of his captor, there were doubts he was even fingerprinted upon entering the jail. It was safe to say that he was off the hook, so to speak. After his somewhat simple escape from the jail, the Doctor made one of his sneaky grand appearances again and requested a ride from his old friend and patient. New York City bound. Madison Square Garden, one of the most renowned and most visited arenas in the country, was to host the XWF's King of the Ring Tournament.

The two traveled for nearly an entire day, no traffic to slow them down. Only stops at random gas stations along the highways for smokes and whiskey. Two necessities that without, wouldn't make the road trip quite the same. The Ex-Detective's habit of drowning out and blacking out his time around the Doctor was so common that he just wasn't himself without a mouthful of the "Devil's nectar". Near dusk, the travelers crossed the Ohio-Pennsylvania border. The flat, straight highways turned into windy hillsides surrounded by rounded mountains full of forests and wildlife. Almost too much wildlife. Nearly every half mile they traveled they would notice the carcass of a deer, among many other animals, all struck by unfortunate travelers like themselves.

Getting past the border was simple, a computerized toll booth collect a fifty cents in change and raised the gate, allowing for all travelers to pass. It was a couple of miles up the road that became a concern for the Ex-Detective.

Trevor-
"Oh, fuck me."

The Doctor looks down the highway and notices a line of cars parked along the side of the road and several squad cars parked on the opposite side. Several of the drivers are out of their vehicles arguing with a few of the officers, others are being 'cuffed and stuffed into the back of some of the squad cars, and others remain in their vehicles as a random drug search is going on just a short half mile ahead of the Doctor and his old patient. The Doctor and Ex-Detective light up their smokes nearly simultaneously and stop behind the short line of traffic.

Trevor-
"What's going on here, Lou? This is the first time I've seen any other vehicles on the road since we've started this bullshit trip."

The Doctor looks over at him, smiles, and shrugs.

"What is your worry, my friend?"

The Ex-Detective looks over to the Doctor and speaks through his cigarette as smoke pours out of his mouth.

Trevor-
"Well. My worry is that there are about twenty fucking cops ahead of us, I see a few dogs... I just escaped from jail and there's a bottle of whiskey sitting between the two of us. What isn't to worry about?"

The Ex-Detective's cigarette is near it's end after a few long drags. He removes it from his mouth, flicks it out the window, and reaches for another.

"Don't forget who it is your traveling with, my dear Trevor. Just follow through and we'll be short on lost time. Fear not, my friend."

The Ex-Detective crosses his eyes and stretches his arms stiff against the steering wheel.

Trevor-
"Yeah, yeah. You always fucking say that. 'Fear not, Mister Dedntik. No worries, my friend. Blah, blah. Spare me your hokus pokus right now, Doc. What are we going to do?"

He reaches between the seats for the bottle of whiskey, but instead he pulls out a full thermos.

Trevor-
"What? Wha-- Where's the booze?!"

"We're sitting in a line of traffic, waiting for the vehicle to be searched and be checked for anything illegal, and you're concerned with the open container of whiskey that sat between us. It may be difficult for you at the moment, Mister Dedntik, but try to be patient for once."

The Ex-Detective drives slowly forward with his knee as he begins to unscrew the top of the thermos.

Trevor-
"What's in here, anyway?"

He tilts the container back and a dark, steaming liquid pours from it and covers the Ex-Detective's mouth, chest, and lap.

Trevor-
"HOT!! JESUS CHRIST!! FUCK!!!"

"Hot coffee."

An officer a few feet ahead of them holding back a leashed German shepherd notices the ruckus coming from the vehicle. He approaches it and signals for the driver to roll down the window. As the vehicle stops by the officer, he sees on older looking man behind the wheel and a disoriented passenger beside him.

"Good day, officer. A busy day out on the highways, I see."

Officer-
"Good day to you, sir. I noticed a lot of movement coming from this vehicle as you approached. Everything all right? What's going on with your friend over there."

The Ex-Detective looks up at the officer and tries to speak, but is unable to. He speaks, but only short, jumbled syllables come out. Meanwhile, the dog beside the officer growls, barks, and tries leaping out of his leash at the Doctor.

"Oh? Well, my friend here clumsily spilled about half of that thermos of coffee onto his lap as we arrived here, you see. He was nearly reacting to his mistake."

The Doctor looks down at the dog nearly doing flips in the air to get to him. He widens his eyes a bit and hisses at the animal. It's ears lower across it's head and it stumbles back with it's tail between it's legs behind the officer, unable to continue eye contact with the Doctor.

Officer-
"Is that so? Hand up the thermos, please."

"Certainly."

The Doctor reaches down and picks the thermos up from between them and hands it to the officer outside the window. The officer unscrews the cap, takes a sniff from it, and smiles.

Officer-
"Wow. That's the best smelling coffee, ever. What kind is it?"

"My own personal formula, my friend. Care to try some? Our treat, it's the least we could do for an officer of the law. It seems you fellows have been out here for quite some time as it is."

Officer-
"As enticing as the offer sounds, I'll have to pass. You know what I could use right now? A nice stiff drink. You wouldn't happen to have any of that in here would you?"

The Ex-Detective blabbers out a few more unrecognizable syllables. His tangled tongue makes it sound like it's been severed off. The officer stands back, pulls out his flashlight, and shines it over to the passenger.

Officer-
"What was that, son? What's with your friend, sir? He alright?"

"I'm afraid not, officer. Not only is this man a deaf mute, but he also suffers from a grave mental illness which prevents him from speaking properly."

The Ex-Detective throws his arms in the air and speaks a bit more indecipherable gibberish towards the Doctor. A small white card is produced from the palm of the Doctor's hand and gives it over to the officer.

"I am his doctor, you see. We are heading to the state capital for a small convention where I will conduct my own treatments to help this young man's condition."

Officer-
"And what condition would that be? Is he.. You know.. ]

The Ex-Detective scowls at the Doctor and the officer and says even more indecipherable nonsense before looking the other way and shaking his head. The Doctor places a hand on the Ex-Detective's lap and looks back to the officer.

[color=#FFFFFF]"Let's not call the kettle black there, sir. Although, my friend here is unable to hear you he is still a masterful lip reader, as well. Could we keep the obvious accusations to at least a whisper? He's very sensitive regarding his condition and anything that could upset him could make this trip much more difficult."

The officer realizes his mistake and covers his mouth with his forearm as he still holds the thermos of coffee.

Officer-
"Oh, right! I apologize, good doctor. Well, everything does seem in order here. You to aren't transporting anything illegal in the car, are ya?"

The Doctor smiles and shakes his head back and forth slowly as the officer hands him back the thermos. The Doctor places it back in between the seats.

Officer-
"I didn't think so. Let me tell ya what... I'm going to radio ahead here, this way you can bypass all this crap ahead of you here. I wouldn't want to hold you up any longer now."

"That would be marvelous, 'good officer'. You are too kind, sir."

Officer-
"I apologize if we inconvenienced you in any way today. Have a safe trip doctor."

The officer looks through the vehicle to the passenger side and speaks directly to the Ex-Detective.

Officer-
"And good luck to you, little buddy! I hope the good doc can help ya out. Have a safe trip!"

The officer gives the Ex-Detective a thumbs up as he waves them through. The Ex-Detective has a disgusted look on his face, as if a toddler would that was being punished in the backseat by his father during a long road trip. He holds out and shakes his middle finger at the officer as the two drive away. Looking in the mirror the Doctor sees the officer talking on his radio to someone while trying to untangle his legs from the dog wrapping itself in them with the short leash.

The car drives about one hundred feet and passes the last squad car along the way. The Doctor waves at the last couple of officers as they stand around watching their comrades take care of business.

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The Ex-Detective wakes up. He's behind the wheel now and is startled for a moment because of the fact. He looks over to the Doctor and shakes his head mildly at him and looks in the rear view mirror to see the dozen squad cars parked along side of the road with the several other vehicles.

Trevor-
"How did you--"

The Ex-Detective pauses for a moment, holds his throat realizing he has his speech back. The Doctor raises an eyebrow and looks over to his patient.

"Yes, my friend?"

Trevor-
"Nevermind, Lou... Nevermind."

He looks down and sees the thermos is gone and the large bottle of whiskey has returned to it's place between the two travelers. As if praising the Heavens, he looks up to the sky. The Ex-Detective pulls the bottle from between the seats, chews the cap off, and takes a large swallow from it.

"When will you learn to have a bit more faith in your doctor, Trevor? You sound like many, if not all, of my fellow comrades in the XWF at times. Have I not proven, at the very least, to you of my capabilities?"

The Ex-Detective ignores the Doctor and enjoys another large drink. He replaces the cap on the bottle and basically throws it down in place.

"I believe I've spent enough time here, traveled enough places, and treated enough patients that at least some of you would. Jacob for example. You have every right to remain proud of your victory several weeks ago. You bested the doctor and left Madness with your title intact. Good for you, my boy. Thinking that history will repeat itself? Hm. I highly doubt it. You may stake claim that you know how the Doctor works now, how he moves... Anything to ensure yourself that another victory is at hand. Anything to soothe your painful shortcomings to come. You've always had a habit of pointing out my own. Anything from my research to my very own short history here in the XWF. Indeed, Mister Harrison did succeed in a contest against me during an televised event one Sunday. I apologize for not recognizing that, Mister Harrison, and I thank Jacob for exposing that. Honestly, I did ignore it. I felt that our "tickling contest" on that fateful Sunday was nothing to brag nor be sore about, but, a loss is a loss none the less. I will continue to feel the same way about it, as I will the event coming this Saturday against Maverick. I silly little Halloween show hosted by our very own "Loverboy", MISTER Loverboy, himself. No offense, Mister Top Gun, but with King of the Ring creeping up on us, I do believe we have more important things to concern ourselves with at the moment. Once again, bragging rights or despair after this "bobbing for apples" contest, I believe, will be meaningless."

"So Jacob, if you must point out each of my flaws, feel free. You are my favorite patient, you know. Not because you beat me. Not because of your very outspoken persona. You have just always stuck out to me. It's a shame we did not have a chance to meet in the War Games, as I had secretly hoped. You and Mister Loverboy on the same team just thrilled me and I had crossed my fingers to get the chance to meet you both at the same time. Unfortunately, yes, I was placed in a match that was no true challenge for any member of Team Victory Forever. A win is a win and a loss is a loss, though, remember? Go ahead and brush this one under the rug for me too, then. It doesn't deserve to be mentioned. Your performance, however? I stick by what I said previously. That large ego that you contain inside that ridiculous mask of yours did not fail to show its ugly face in the match. I believe it was wrong what you did. If you wished to be a captain and lead a team to victory, you should have done that instead of shoving your true captain aside and grabbing the reigns. Too many chiefs and not enough indians, my friend. Between the Master of Minds, Mister Loverboy, and yourself... Well, that would've added up to three worthy captains. One true one, of course. Sure, Mastermind doesn't have the best track record, or one over five hundred for that matter, but he still has the heart of a champion! You should have let him take control and lead your team to what could have been a decisive win. Instead, well, you know what happened. A few weak links cost you the win. Shame. I suppose it was quite opposite of what Team Victory Forever experienced. We lost an opponent, while at the same time, you did as well. Only for him to be replaced by a newcomer that certainly made a difference for his team. I'm actually a bit envious that the same couldn't have happened to us. A roster full of potential patients, only to be left lacking one in the opposite corner. I believe it was unfair for our opponents, the Pryce of Bu-- You know what? I'm going to quit calling it that. I'm sure all of the members would appreciate that, as well. At least I would if I was betrayed by my captain. Regardless, I believe it was a bit unfair to us, as well. Expecting a fight for our very lives we were left with a cake walk. Would the result had been any different if Mister Pryce did not fail his team? Perhaps a little different. Would the victory have escaped us? Most definitely not."

"I may have lacked a few leadership skills during that week, Jacob, but they weren't necessary. You can call that riding along, my captain, Morbid Angel's coattails if you wish. I look at it as having faith in my own team. I suppose if I did not trust Morbid Angel to control the team, I would've stepped up and did what I could to steer the team in the right direction as well. We may have lacked a bit of communication at times, but we were solid and undeniably the better team. I would even go on and say that we were the best team drafted for the event. No matter our opponents that night, Team Victory Forever would have reigned supreme."

"It's a shame that we must keep falling back to War Games. The member of Team Pest that was mainly responsible for your teams loss was, none other than, Mister Frodo. Let me rephrase that, Mister Simon. Or are you Frodo again? My poor, poor little half-man. After hearing over and over again what you've had to say about this tournament, the other participants, and myself... Well, I don't think your a half-man at all. What you displayed showed me that you're merely a twelve year old, puberty stricken little boy who just watched a low-budget Rated-R film on HBO for the first time, long after his mummy and daddy are asleep in bed, of course. That, or a ridiculous comic whose career thrives on "sex and poop jokes". Not very relevant or even humorous for that matter, but then you repeated, basically, the same exact thing you heard from those productions. I usually refrain myself from such language, but, let's see. 'A 's pussy'. 'Louis D'Cocksucking Ville'. Yes. Quite insulting, my friend. Do go on. I could go on myself with the other ridiculous, adolescent comments you've spread around to the other participants, but I'll stop with just those two."

"Much like a broken record, you along with every other patient of mine in the XWF insists I do something to 'impress them'. What more must I do? You may have gotten the best of Gator on your own time and why even bring up Wyatt Reynolds? Have you no scars, my little leprechaun? Mister Reynolds may have left his mark across my chest, but you don't see him around much anymore do you? Wyatt Reynolds... Come now, Mister Frodo. Do not be like Jacob and focus on my past. I've stated before that I barely keep track of my wins and losses here, which Jacob already pointed out for us. That sad thing is, you're focusing on everyone's past it seems. Gators, my own, you've always had a bit of heat with Mister Maverick... But also, Tony Santos. It seems your trying to relive a past rivalry that has been closed for quite sometime that you need reopen to prove something. I hate to break it to you, friend, but you'll have to pick another time to have a reunion with your former rival. This tournament, is not the time or place to have your hopes up for such a thing. Not only does Mister Santos have to reach me, which at the earliest would be the third round, but he has to get through me as well. Which... Which what? Which, of course, is not going to happen. Even if Jacob happens to best me again, Mister Santos will not pass the third round. You may have to dig in the old XWF vault for a few videos of your most recent matches with this fellow, if you wish to continue on with your everyday journey to get your 'rock's off'."

"Now, please, do not believe that my lack of faith in your skill to mean anything at the moment. It will only mean something IF you reach the finals against me, unfortunately. The skill from the lower bracket is sub-par even to my match-up at War Games. If you're as tough and good as you claim you are, you should have no trouble reaching me. However, I will not simply ignore the fellows you'll have to climb over to get to the finals. Ghost Tank, for example. Mister Tank... Why do you believe there is a problem between us? I never stated such a fact. All I've stated is that you seem to have been in need of my services is all. Denying it is everything a patient would do. Are you stating that your unstable, reckless behavior is something that I shouldn't recognize as a mental handicap? Are you stating that your sudden growth of confidence over nothing isn't perhaps a delusion produced in that thick skull of yours? Well, believe what you want, but who's the doctor here? If you believe your perfectly healthy, then so be it. I've never forced my help unto anyone."

"King Doctor Louis D'Ville. Hm. You see, I believe it has a nice ring to it. Ha! Ha! Never once was I concerned of a new title conflicting with my current one, my friend. I am a Doctor. That's simply what I am. Being crowned as King of the XWF and the way people will recognize that is of no concern to me, but thank you for pointing that out. Since you don't like how it sounds, maybe I'll come up with a more clever title. Something that rolls off the tongue a little easier, like 'Ghost Tank'. What in the world is a 'ghost tank', anyway? Is it something like a 'ghost pirate'? Or a 'ghost monkey'? Ghost Tank. Hm."

"I see you've followed in the dwarf's footsteps a bit, as tiny as they may be, and basically predicted every outcome that could possibly happen in this tournament. You sure are prepared. If you happen to slip by Mister Frodo in the first round, which is highly unlikely, you still have a few obstacles to face before you can even consider the finals. Your second round opponent, which could be either Maverick, my dearest friend the 'Aerial Knight', or Mister Smoochi-Wallace. I've been in the same ring with two of the three atleast. Mister Maverick, a teammate of mine from War Games. Useless participant if I might say. Also, the Knight, who was a third party in my match with Wyatt Reynolds that I mentioned earlier. Also quite useless. Although I fell myself higher on the food change than the two of them, they're still well enough competitors to give you a challenge. As I've mentioned to you in a past session, your size will be your downfall. I'm sure your familiar with the coined phrase, 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall'. Are you not? Well, your display at War Games showed just that. Whether you're quick to calm yourself from your ravaging temper, you weren't quick enough to hold back even a little to remain a factor in the match. So yes, your own tactics will be your own destruction. I don't believe you'll let yourself survive long enough to reach the finals and face me, but feel free to weaken any of those opponents who may stand a chance to advance. Jacob, of all people, know how I sometimes end up with some sort of advantage."

"Leaving you all with one final thought, I must say that I'm quite impressed how you all have risen to the occasion to claim Mister Gilmour's crown from last year. The effort you've all put forth would leave a man shaking in his boots. Well, let me share something with you friends, I don't wear boots. I'm not afraid to lose, which I rarely do but do more than I thought according to our dearest Jacob. Losing in this tournament, however, is just a dream. A dream that you have each thought up, sitting behind your cameras, filming quotations and surrounding your threats with everyone's previous faults. I'm not here to exploit anyone. I'm here to save you all from yourselves. Ghost Tank, if you became King of the Ring so early in your career here, what would that lead to? A Universal Title shot, perhaps? Are you even close to being ready for that? I would think not. Same goes for well over half of you in the tournament. The tournament should have been two rounds and the real competitors here in the XWF could have had the chance to save a bit of time and get down to real business. Instead, we're forced into a wasteful first round that will surely not even be remembered after the tournament ends. No offense, Ghost Tank, but yes your presence in the tournament will most likely not even be recognized. So relive War Games, claim your an entity of destruction and that you actually mean something, and ramble on, my friend."

"Frodo and Gator. Both of you do deserve each other with your constant attempts of a comedy act and lack of what's truly going on. Side tracked by women, sex, drugs, health issues, the list goes on. You two may deserve each other in this tournament, but the inevitable is much stronger than either of your desires. Mister Frodo, you may remain the King of the Dwarves if it means something to you. I will not take that title away from you... don't know if I'd actually qualify for it, but regardless. It's yours. Gator... Jacob..., you and I meeting is basically a give-in and I look forward to it as much as you do. I know you'll be prepared and I know you have lots of fight left in you, especially since you've had so many opportunities to rest up as you have. A busy week for you indeed, but don't let anything else cloud what's most important here. You've brought me your all once before and I look forward for you to do the same time and time again. Good luck, my friends."

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***The top banner was created by Azrael Erebus.
**The signature banner was created by Justin Sane.
*Song "Suspicious Minds" by Elvis Presley, the King of Rock n' Roll, via YouTube.