Drop what you are doing for a moment.

Tune out the world.

Listen to your heartbeat.

Feel the rush of blood throughout your body.

See all you could never accomplish, look at those who strayed you from your life goals.

Are you angry with these people?

Smile right at them as you slit their throats.

"Are you done yet Andromai?"

Slowly, the disciple raises her body from the position it has been in for about 5 minutes when she was fiddling with the dead man's eyeballs. Getting up off the ground from her knees, she turns from his body to look over at the Chieftain.

"So, what's next on your agenda? Better question; do you even have an agenda?"

Laughter erupts from KInwrathi.

"Me? An agenda? Who do you think I am?"

"Fair enough. We are in unfamiliar territory though..."

"Are you implying that these are drastic times?"

"Not at all! I was just pointing that out."

Shaking his head, Kinwrathi decides not to respond to his disciple's comment. Instead, he decides to begin walking in the direction the man came from. Looking around, he sees that there are no others in a great radius. His hand sticks out and grabs Andromai by the hand and teleports them back.

Not back to Neuroseir.

Instead, back to Thenriot, Pellowin, Cyridion.

As the metaphorical dust settles, the disciple realizes just where they are...

"What the fuck? Why are we here?"

The snow on the ground is fresh, and is at about knee height for the 6 foot tall Chieftain.

"There are reasons, Andromai. That is all you need to know."

Confused and angered by her master's secrecy, the disciple reluctantly follows closely behind Kinwrathi. Onto the streets where the snow has been cleared much better they go, making sure to keep as low of a profile as possible. The streets of Thenriot act like a maze, with the Chieftain and his disciple being the unwitting lab rats lured by the pursuit of metaphorical cheese.

Suddenly, Kinwrathi stops. He has to tug on the back of Andromai's robes to get her to pay attention to his lack of movement. She turns and finally sees what her master sees.

The burnt down remnants of a church devoted to Tordowin, the 'right' deity to worship in most cultures in Cyridion...

A sickly sweet smile stretches across the face of Andromai.

The Chieftain walks into the middle of the rubble and begins to scour through them, eager to learn of who burned down this oh so respectable religious institution.

"It has to be a Joltinen's will. Who else would have the balls to pull something like this?"

The disciple shrugs her shoulders and joins him in inspecting the rubble.

"I don't know. My father often talked about sticking it to the church for stealin his money."

"Your father was also a drunken womanizing sack of shit. Offense intended."

Laughing, the disciple reaches her hand into an opening in a pile of the wooden support beams that once held this church up so well...

Something in the middle of this refuse pile strikes her interest.

Carefully pulling it out of the pile, she brings it close to her face to inspect it.

Turning it over with her hands and looking at it from all possible angles, her jaw drops.

"Master? Slight problem...



"Another doomed soul thought it would be a good idea to join up for the match where UFO title is on the line.

This colossal failure is the little engine that can't; World-1 International.

Bringing the percentage of people in this match who can actually form a coherent sentence in the English language down from 60% to 50%. Congratulations World-1, that's the only contribution you're going to make to this match.

However, you could always be the first one eliminated.

In fact, I'm going to make a wager.

This , World-1 International will not only be the first one eliminated. He will be eliminated in under 30 seconds.

He'll go to the top rope, where he feels at home.

And I'll evict him.

I'll send him down to the floor, making sure his head spikes on the ground in an obvious attempt to break his neck and kill him.

Not only will his career be over, I wager his life will be after this match.

Stop being so confident , losing is the only option you have.

It's the only thing you know.

How to lose.

When you're lying on the ground bleeding out of your head with a broken neck, remember this.

I'm only trying to help you.

But you can't help those who fail to help themselves.

Fucking pathetic.

Just like Johnny Samuels.

He realizes he has nothing that can phase me at all, so he goes for a wildcard attack by insinuating that I'm some sort of old television character.

Was that an attempt at humor?

Because if so, try about 30 times harder. You aren't quite at humor yet.

Nor are you threatening.

All I've seen of you suggests you're an admittedly big, albeit not very intelligent oaf.

So sit yourself down and let me tell you your future.

I'm going to eliminate you and then win the match. Afterwards, I'm going to beat the stupidity out of you until you have wounds inside your wounds. Lastly, I'm going to wrap you up in an American flag and set said flag on fire.

You will burn for your sins.

Not in Hell, for it does not exist.

You will burn while alive so you can feel the pain vividly.

Then you'll become another prisoner in the lair of Neuroseir.

Welcome to your reality, Mr. Senator sir.

I have to ask; are all the others too scared of what I'll do to them if they say anymore that they're hiding until the match?

How cute."