Briefly, red text would appear on the screen, reading thus


The video opens up on a crouched, cloaked figure on a bright sunny day, in a field where a solitary tree stands in defiance of the wind, which sways its branches, to and fro with force enough that it blows the cloak hard to the southwest, then hard to the northeast. The tree continuing to stand, with nary a branch breaking from the forceful gusts. The visual gets closer, and closer, moving in on the tree, and upon it is a heart carved, and inside it, two initials separated by a plus sign. P + C. The visual pans down, the ground having become wet, yet it was just in one single location, a dry patch of earth. The source of the liquid revealed, showing it was falling from the face of the figure, whose face is hidden by a hood.

Ghost Tank's normal voice, the one in which he spoke to Alvald in, a soft, soothing tone, sounds out as tears continue to fall to the ground, and some being blown away by the wind,

I have been gone a long time. My Brothers in the Asylum did not know where I went, for I needed to be alone. I barely communicated with Alvald. The reason I was taking a breather from the X W F was because I needed to heal. However, during the early days of my break, something happened. Something I knew in my heart that I should have been prepared for, but no matter how you live your life. No matter how much you shield yourself. Are you ever truly prepared for the death of someone who held your heart and never hurt you? Someone who made you a better person, because they loved you, and you loved them, despite the faults you each had? Someone you were forced to split apart from because your careers were taking you into two different places? Or rather, in the case of us that decide to wrestle, whether in the indies or in XWF, hundreds of different places?

The figure began to slam hard at the wet ground, his right hand beginning the barrage, and after that, the left hand began to slam into the ground, punching at it, both hands joining, hammerfisting the ground causing the dirt to broken down, parted by sheer force, only to leave his knuckles bloodied, his hands shaking, before curling inward, as if to make fists once more, but instead they began to dug into the ground, tearing at the ground, ripping pieces of dirt away, until finally he is forced to give up, having dug a small bloodied hole. His hands were torn, a couple of nails broken, or ripped off completely.

She was a great woman. Some of you know a bit of her story when Alvald and I had a heart to heart during Wargames, so I won't retell it. Though we had given ourselves to each other, mind and body, we still used monikers. Our pet names for one another. She called me Cupid, for I was gone a lot, on the road, establishing myself in the indie circuit so I could get to a place like XWF, it always seemed to be that she never got a good enough chance to see my face. So, in turn, I called her Psyche. For it seemed that a lot of times I was coming home to her, as she slept. Her choice for my nickname was apt, for I loved to admire her beauty, loved to hold her as she slept. It was as if she became even more beautiful in the moonlight. Her long auburn hair, always seemed to have more of a shine to it as well. Everything about her was perfect. I didn't care about her past. I only cared about being with her. I'd never be with her for longer than a couple days, though. I took everything I could, much like I do here in the XWF. I work hard, I play hard. However, there came the time when I knew I'd never be able to come back again. I was almost there. She too was getting more famous as people crowded to her acts, to watch the amazing fire illusionist! I went out and bought us rings, nothing fancy, just something made of steel, with our nicknames engraved on the other's ring. Hers had C, mine had P.

Those bloodied, shaky hands rose to its owner's face, as more tears spilled to the ground and the figure fell forward, his hands pressed to his face, his elbows and knees digging into the ground, body shuddering, wracked with grief

I kept in contact with her, through Alvald's phone. She still lived in the same apartment we shared-

A chuckle sounded, not from the scene that is happening, but purely from the audio,

She told me that the apartment always seemed to have my smell, and it comforted her. "It's as if you're here with me." she said. I immediately called her silly, made sure she had Alvald's new number, and we said our loving farewells. "Goodnight, my Cupid." "Goodnight, my Psyche." Then we hung up. The Sunday after my match with Calypso, Alvald received a phone call, and handed it right to me. That is when I received word that she had been on her way home, crossing a street, groceries in hand, when a drunk driver sped through a red light, and hit her going nearly seventy-three miles per hour. A couple of people called nine-one-one, but there was nothing they could do. One of the investigators picked up her cellphone, saw Cupid in her phone's contacts, and called it from his own phone.

The figure pushed off their elbows, and finally sound came from the visual itself, and the sound was a deafening roaring/sob like noise, and then his hands were once again curled up, and slamming hard into the ground as he cried out,

I WANT YOU BACK! I WANT YOU BACK! PLEASE! LET THIS NIGHTMARE FUCKING END!

The wind would finally conquer the hood of the cloak, revealing a bloody faced Ghost Tank, tears streaming from his puffy eyes, cheeks flush as the voice over came to life once more,

However, the nightmare wouldn't end. She was truly dead. I was not. I truly wish I had died then.

Ghost Tank stood up, moving to the tree, placing his bloodied hands against it, smearing the carving and wood with his life's essence. He began to walk away, head hung low, arms hanging limp, as if they were broken. The visual faded to black.

The next visual is a recording of Ghost Tank, in a small, homely apartment, laying face first on the bed, hands bandaged, body covered by the blankets and his voice came over the video,

I thought she was silly, when she said the place smelled like me. In a way, she was right, but it mostly smelled of her. I wanted nothing more than to be close to her, and in a way, I was. I laid in my side of the bed, preserving hers, so I could be comforted by her, even without her there. I would find my bandaged right hand brushing up and down where she slept, as if I could still feel the contours of her flesh. As if she was right there next to me. She wasn't dead, oh no, I could still feel the curve of her hip. I could still hear her sweet laughter. She was alive, dammit! She had to be! Though, no matter how much I tried to persuade myself, I knew, she was gone...forever.

I spent days like this, barely eating and drinking, just to survive so I could spend another minute in bed with my beloved Psyche. My hand caressing the pillow, as if I was brushing her hair from her sleepy eyes. Maybe it's because I was practically starving myself and becoming dehydrated, but it seemed like she was truly there on the fourth night. That is when she spoke to me,

"My Cupid, what are you doing?" and I responded to what I now know as a hallucination, "Just admiring the beauty of my beloved Psyche. Why do you ask?" I saw her smile, so so sweetly before she spoke, "My heart, you know I am not here, right?" and I shook my head before responding, "Of course you are. You're right here. How else could I admire such perfection?" I swore I could hear her giggle before she spoke again, "Dearheart, I am not alive. You are killing yourself, that's why you can see me." That is when I somewhat snapped a bit, as if it was all clicking together once more, and I began to cry again. I heard her coo to me, as if trying to soothe me. It would work for a moment as she spoke again, "Cupid, I want you to live. I need you to live. You still have a life to lead, remember? You just made it into that wrestling thing you were striving so hard to reach. Please, please, please, you must move on. Do this for me. Live, my Cupid. You have things to do in this world, live out your dream, for us." And just like that, with a nod of my head, I said one last few words to her, "Goodnight, my Psyche." She would smile once more and begin to slowly fade away before speaking one last time "Goodnight, my Cupid."

The video faded to black and he spoke over the darkness,

After that night, I was refreshed, I used her luggage in order to put her things in them, and got in a cab. I went to a jewelry store, bought a necklace, and put her ring and mine on it. I bought a long enough chain, so that the rings will always be close to my heart. Once my affairs were in order, I flew back home. I began eating like I used to, I began training again. I put all her things in the master bedroom, sheets and all. Dresses and flashy outfits she wore onstage in my closet. I watched the goings on during my absence from the XWF, saw and cheered for my Brothers for the win they received, becoming the number one contenders for the Trio titles. I still continued to train, still continued to get better, and Jacob from The Real Higher Power crap, got to taste my fury, my anger. Those fuckers have been involved in too many of my matches and I'm tired of it. Either he learned his lesson, or I'll see him again, no matter what, he will regret having fucked with me.

The screen flashes to black, then a strobe light begins its dance over the hulking frame of Ghost Tank, who begins to hop foot to foot, and his voice sounded over the video, but it was no longer calm, soft, it sounded like a deep growl, as if an animal had learned speech,

Do you want to know what happens next?

The camera begins to spin around Ghost Tank, as he lets out a loud, gravelly roaring yell, while the camera begins to zoom in tight towards his face while it continues to spin, while the voice over sounds out once more, but it began to growl deeper, become even more like an animal's, almost roaring as he speaks the following words,

A GODDAMN PURGE!

The camera zooms in on his neon green eye, while that signature laugh of his rang out, and the video began to fade to black, and those familiar neon green words began to flash on the screen

Can You HearThe Screams?