Luca advances on the now backpedaling man who was standing behind him mere moments. The face of this man Luca once called a friend is now plagued with a distraught demeanor. Drops of sweat falling from his brow down to the floor, making an audible splash that cuts through the painful silence in the room.

Bumping hard into the back wall of the dust covered office, Kyle realizes he has nowhere left to go and sighs. As Luca slowly draws near, the distraught and alarmed man with his back pressed against a dusty wall begins to stammer in an attempt to calm down the man he's sure will kill him.

"L-l-l-l-look Luca, I don't know what you're thinking, b-b-b-but-"

One punch from the enraged man drops Kyle right down on his knees.

"I didn't have nothing to do with it!"

Another punch.

"Is that so, Mr. St. Michael?"

Sweat runs down Kyle's face at an even faster rate than before.

"H-h-h-h-h-hey man, don't be like that. All, Mr. St. Michael and shit like that. We're still cool man..."

Luca's hand grabs Kyle around the throat and squeezes hard. The man being choked's eyes look near to bulging out of his eye sockets due to the pressure.

"No fucking way. We aren't cool, you piece of shit!"

The only noises that escape Kyle's mouth are choked gurgles and coughs. Luca's free hand curls itself into a fist and he drives it forcefully into the choking man's temple. Upon impact, it immediately uncurls and grabs him by the sweat drenched forehead and pulls Kyle's head closer to the face of the man who's going to kill him before the day is over.

"Now, you are going to tell me who killed them. Start talking, I don't have all day."

Luca's grip on his uninvited guest's throat loosens, allowing him to speak somewhat.

"Heiman."

A slap from the hand that was just choking him.

"No fucking shit, I want to know who he sent."

Mixed with the sweat that now drenches his entire body are tears as Kyle responds.

"You-You're looking at him, Luca."

With a cold smirk on his face, Luca pulls himself away from the man he was interrogating. Fumbling through the drawer of one of the desks in the office, he pulls out a special surprise for the killer of his friends.

"Kyle St. Michael, you have been found guilty of two counts of fucking with the wrong guy. As resident Judge and Jury, I sentence you death. Can you guess who the Executioner is?"

He cocks the surprise.

Aims the barrel at the guilty party's head.

Lets out a cold snicker.

Finally, he pulls the trigger. About 5 times.

Blood splashes all over the back wall. Kyle's body slumps over, more blood pouring from the holes in his skull.

One dead.

The satisfied young man pulls out the now deceased Kyle's cell phone and snaps a picture of the still recognizable face that once belonged to his friend. He searches the phone's contacts for the man he wants to see this picture.

Jeffery Heiman.

He finds the motherfucker's name and sends him the picture along with the message:

"Killing off the Arzegotti camp faster than you, Heiman. Pick up the pace.
-P"

That ought to keep him off my back for a while...





Stepping on the blood soaked body of the man whose life he ended just moments before, Luca makes his way to the closet of the office. Opening the wooden door to more creaking from the old rusted hinges of just about every door in this damned warehouse, he sees exactly what he was hoping would still be there.

A canister of gasoline and a box of matches.

Pulling the canister out of the closet, what he sees behind it shocks him. Three more canisters in a single file line! Sickly, he pulls the others from the closet along with the matches and he closes the door.

Pouring the first cannister's contents all over the floor of the office of this abandoned warehouse, Luca makes a point of drenching Kyle's body already soaked body in the flammable substance.

After he feels the whole floor has been soaked thoroughly in gasoline, he steps fast near the door, one gasoline canister and the box of matches in hand. Pulling the first match from the box, he strikes it to the course edge of the box. A flame appears on the match, and he lays the match to the gasoline soaked floor and darts out the door of the office, shutting the door in front of him. Looking at the window that looks in to the office mere seconds after laying the match to the ground he sees the room already ablaze, like a forest fire decided to touch down in the middle of the damn place.

Removing the nozzle from the second canister, Luca dumps out the entirety of it down the wooden stairs. Instead of stepping down the now gleaming stairs, the arsonist opts to slide down the rusted metal handrail.

Hitting the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, Luca feels surprised that the rail was able to hold him up from the top to the bottom.

The windows looking into the office get blown out, fire spewing from the now open holes in the office's walls. He pulls out one more match and strikes it to the course edge, sparking another flame. He drops it at the base of the stairs, engulfing them immediately in flames.

Smiling, he pushes open the door to the warehouse. The flames inside are exposed to the outside for just a few seconds before the door shuts and the young man responsible steps out of the building. He walks to his car, starts up the engine, and drives away...


"Fuck, another non-factor decided to insert his worthless ass into the middle of a match between myself and Angelus. Like Johnny Black before him, Shocker as he's called comes in half cocked and claims that he's the important one, the one for everyone to watch out for.

Listen here, Shockler.

'But Luca, it's Shocker! How dare you get my name wrong?! I'm so offended!'

Shut up Shockler, you're going to have a shorter lifespan in this company than Lexi Sheckler. If you have to ask who Lexi Sheckler is, you know nothing of the history of this federation. Therefore you have no claim to any of your bloated, generic insults that have as much of an inflated sense of self worth as you do.

Egomania isn't a good color for you, Shocker.

In fact, let's go back to your generic insults for a minute.

Saying I look like a famous actor that women go crazy for. I don't know the guy's name like you, I prefer to not have my mind raped by shitty cinema. Yet what you fail to understand is there's something wrong with these idiotic, half brained insults. Thanks for the accidental compliment, shithead.

Ooh, look who can do some digging in someone's personal life. Yes, I've lost people close to me. Who the hell cares? This is our brand of new guys, ladies and gents. People who take the nearest headline that has anything that relates to their opponents and uses it as ammunition. All I see from that comment is that even in death, my friends are more important than you ever will be.

Things aren't going well for you, are they?

Too depressed to be taken seriously? The only thing depressing me right now is that you think that was a good insult! Fuck me, this wanker's even stupider than Johnny Black, Mr. Madison's slave for an indefinite period of time.

Like forever.

Skipping the weakest link crack, as it's obvious even in my weakest hour I'm stronger than you are.

A win over an overrated wrestler? This guy doesn't even know modern XWF history! I advise you go check out Shove It Wildly's main event. It's more important than you ever will be, so you go on daydreaming about the day you're thrown in there just to be the first fall guy. I can't even take you seriously anymore.

That however, is implying I ever took you seriously.

He then goes on with a rather idiotic spiel about my hormones or something or another, but who cares?

You know what'll be a Shocker, guy?

It'll be a Shocker if you can walk after this match, let alone compete in the gauntlet.

That's right, even your moronic name backfires on you when you deal with opponents who are this far out of your league.

John Black is a nonfactor, but is that really a surprise?

...And Angelus, who hasn't said anything at all regarding me. He's said stuff about Johnny Black, and nothing on Shocker because nothing needs to be said about that shithead.

Angelus, who was once in the Black Circle. He got kicked out and attacked by Lexi Sheckler, the now deceased cum dumpster of the Black Circle.

How special is this guy, am I right?

Now now Angelus, you did manage to steal Mark Flynn's belt from him. You didn't win the title by any stretch of the imagination, not even by cheating. What you did was take the belt and leave.

Cool fucking story, bro.

Come our match, I'll steal your title by beating you and then robbing you of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Remember Angelus, even as the least favored member of the Black Circle in regards to the others I'm still more favored than anyone in this match...

...But being that you're the only factorable opponent in this match, you're the only one who needs to worry about that.

Moving on from one victory, to the possibility of another...

The Gauntlet City main event.

My number is not yet known, and I honestly don't really care which number I get.

I'll go out there and decimate people.

Left, right, and center."