The three armed men crowd around Luca, their rifles aimed at his head. Luca assumes that these men want him alive, but wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they needed. Why hadn't he had the others come in with him? It wouldn't have killed him to have them as back up? The very fact they aren't here will likely be the death of him.

"Do you know how much Heiman paid us to get you and your little whore?"

"Enough to ask stupid questions when you should be restraining me. Likely not much, you asshole."

"Funny. Heiman said you were a real joker."

"I'm not joking. You're sitting here, asking terribly moronic questions instead of tying me down. Are you a or something?"

The butt of the man Luca assumes is the leader's rifle strikes him hard in the nose, drawing a considerable amount of blood. Dripping down from his lip down to the floor with nearly inaudible splashes, the floor in front of him is slowly stained red.

"Not so bold now when you see your own blood, huh?

"You're wasting your time. I honestly couldn't care less about your spiel. All you've done is give more ammunition for my war with Heiman, dumb shit."

"You aren't leaving this house alive, Luca."

"That's what you think, but it's not over yet!"

Pressing the gun to the nearest grunt's stomach, Luca pulls the trigger of his pistol. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession, and the man drops to the ground, a river of crimson flooding from his abdomen. The unnamed leader pushes Luca against the wall, and takes the pistol from his hand.

"I'm going to kill you, and piss on your body!"

"Go right ahead, I don't fear death. My only regret is not taking you to hell with me!"

The warm, disgusting breath of the disheveled leader wafts pass Luca's nostrils as the rugged looking motherfucker presses the barrel of the pistol against Luca's temple.

"Wrong answer. I'm going to make this symbolic, laying dead, killed by your own possession."

Luca smiles right at him, and he reaches his hand for the trigger.

"Surprise motherfucker!"








Jared and Mero charge in through the doorway into the room that reeks of death and gunpowder. The other two guards turn to face the intruders, while Luca shoves the leader off of him. Stomping on his knee, causing a sickening crack, he grabs the pistol from the ground as the man with the now broken leg reaches to cradle his injury.

"Look! We can work this out, can't we?

"Typical. You want peace when you're at the wrong end of the gun."

"Please! I'll leave and you'll never hear from me again! C'mon Luca-"

"Fuck you!"

He kneels down beside the fallen man, gun pressed to his temple.

"Say hello to my dad when you see him in hell."

Bang.

Blood spatters all over Luca's face and shirt. The already soaked floor is now flooding with blood from the combination of the dead guard, the leader of the gang, and Luca's nose.

The two other guards get the rifles ready, but are filled with bullets from Jared and Mero before they can even react. One goes down in a matter of milliseconds, and the other lands on top of him not much later.

Walking over to the chair where Victoria sits, tied to the back, Luca has a brief second of hesitation.

I've got to bury my past to move on with the future. How do I break that news to the woman who I thought was dead? The one who almost got me killed?!

"Luca! Thank god you saved me!"

"Luca! The bitch isn't even tied up! She could've gotten out at anytime!"

"Oh, well that's embarrassing..."

The bloodstained barrel of the pistol is placed against the bitch's head.

"What are you, aw fuck it!"

Launching herself from the chair, Victoria pins Luca to the ground.

"You weren't loyal! You knew the costs of your treachery!"

"Yeah, getting to kill a stupid bitch!"

The gun, whose barrel was still pressed to her head goes off. Her body becomes limp and lifeless, and falls on top of Luca. He pushes her body off and gets to his feet.

"What a waste of time, Luca! The broad you came here for tried to kill you!"

Laughing, in a joyous mood even, Luca responds.

"Shut the fuck up, Mero!"

"Guys, let's get out of here..."

"Nobody move! This is the NYPD!"

"This day just gets better and better..."



"Hey look! More people decided to join in this clusterfuck of a supposed event! Hallelujah! Who are they, again?

Eric Rex and Mr. Satellite. Nevermind, I take back the hallelujah...

Come on, of all the people who could've shown up and actually given me something, I'm saddled with the previously mentioned losers, alongside some nobody douchebag and another member of Donathan's summer camp of idiocy.

Eric Rex - I'm sorry, but am I supposed to know you or your halfwit attorney? I mean, for all I care you could be a huge deal on Warfare. Guess what? Warfare is about as interesting as watching paint dry, so I doubt you're anything special. Is shut up all you can say or something? It's likely the most compelling bit of speaking you're capable of, so I shouldn't make fun of your lack of speaking skills...

Yet I will anyway.

Hey, what's the difference between Eric Rex and Helen Keller?

Helen Keller could form more compelling bits of public speaking! Add in that she was also likely tougher than this tough guy wannabe bitch.

What's the difference between Eric Rex and a ?

A at least knows what bus to get onto. Eric Rex decides to go to Shove it, instead of the home for the mentally impaired known as Wednesday Night Warfare.

But maybe I should give him a chance. I mean, he was smart enough to ditch a program that contains that thought that pathetic little group, DvD or something could beat Duke even with 4 of them against just him. Wally Whosawhat isn't really the most intelligent man at times...

Or at all...

I honestly don't think he's had a good idea in his life to be honest. But I digress...

At the end of the day, Eric Rex is another hack from Warfare who thinks he has a chance of surviving this encounter.

Which leaves us with Mr. Satellite.

He's beaten me before, with the help of the only man smart enough to cut ties with De Sade's cult. So, in all honesty, Mr. MysteryofthemissingHGH beat me. All Satellite did was get the pin.

He'll come in and try to analyze everyone as if he was a certified psychiatrist, when all he knows is the deluded teachings of our North Korean champion. Am I supposed to care in the slightest whatever he's going to say about anyone in this match? He's obviously a fucking .

Oh yeah, Bryce's Mother said something about me. How nice to know I got under her thick fucking skin enough to provoke her into an idiotic comeback.

Honey, are you a professional idiot? Or are you just a naturally gifted amateur? I hope you have AIDS too, because then you might actually stand a chance of doing anything, because everyone else will be too scared to try shit on you. With the exception of me however, I'll probably just drink your blood to show just how invincible I am to this class of rejects. I'm fucking waiting, you glorified racial stereotype.

Jesus H. Christ. How much more pathetic can this event get?

Maybe Chris Macbeth will make a guest appearance..."