A darkened room. Not completely pitch black. Dark. With only the slightest hint of illumination. Cast by a single candle set upon a table in the farthest corner. Though in reality, it might as well be an entire universe away. Much like a star. Its light simply allows the very basic, visual assistance. Shapes and shadows can be made out. Nothing more. However, it seems there is a chair. Placed directly in line, with the limited view of the camera. Within that chair, there is the form of a man. Sitting relaxed. Leaned back. Legs crossed. Momentarily, there is the light from a cigarette. Briefly, its cherry burns brighter. Then returns to normal. A cold, cruel laugh echoes and as a cloud of smoke softly billows forth into the room, overcasting the scene, the candle brightens. In fact, several other candles; situated all about the chamber, suddenly flare to life and begin to emit their fiery, glow. This radiance of enlightenment would reveal, the one and only... Mr. Insidious, himself - Mick Ashcroft. His eyes completely jet black, gaze into the camera as a wicked grin sits fixed on his face. It is almost as if he's staring right through the lens. Looking directly into the soul of his intended target. A frigid gust of air filters through the room, threatening several candles but their flames never snuff out.


"Darren Zirando."


Mick takes a pull from his cigarette.


"Your reasoning and logic is by far the most ridiculously, flawed, nonsense I have ever had the pain of enduring. At one point, I was certain my brain was bleeding and leaking out of my ears. That's how excruciatingly absurd and inept your promo was. It made me question my actual existence. As I began to wonder, if maybe a hunter got the drop on me and drove a stake through my heart this morning. I seriously almost convinced myself that this was now the tribulation I was going to be forced to experience, for all eternity. What I'm trying to express here, Zirando is that your scatterbrained, ill-considered, inane comments, made me believe, I might actually be in hell."


Mick exhales a cloud of smoke and sighs.


"And then the video ended. Your words ceased and all was right with the world again."


Mick snaps his fingers and looks to the side and from another room, ambles a scantly clad female. Eyes wide and unblinking, her expression blank. She holds out a cell phone and on it, a clip from the most recent Darren Zirando promo plays.

Quote:My intelligence is proven by the fact that I not only accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior, but that I continue to walk with him, hand in hand. I have the holy light shining the way for me in this life, and into the next. What is it that you have again, boy, some sharp teeth? I follow a path of light, at path of the righteous, and I have a heavenly kingdom awaiting me at the end of my road. That in itself makes me a very smart man, does it not?

The clip ends and the woman drops. Literally. Suddenly. Almost as if a trap door opened beneath her, she seems to fall directly through the floor.


"The horrors of your vacant skull are boundless. This is precisely the type of stupid, incoherent, rubbish that I was talking about. What you're describing is spirituality. Faith. Not intelligence. A man could be as dumb as dirt and still toddle along behind his lord and the words of his preacher. Having a belief isn't the measuring stick for smarts. Look at you! You big ol' dum dum! You're a prime example. I feel like I should be explaining this with sock puppets for you. That brainless whore that just smashed onto my cellar floor is sharper than you and I found her trying to talk into a gas pump at the local Sunoco Station. High as a fucking kite! Still more clever than you. If we were gauging this by floors on an apartment building, she'd be on the roof and you'd be buried within the foundation. For fuck's sake! How have you not accidentally ended your life yet? How are you still alive and this feeble in the head?"


"No matter."


"The time has come and your end draws near, regardless of whether you fear me or not. With malice as your intent or love. It makes no difference to me. For I am entering that ring with one sole purpose. Your eradication. I will tear you down and rip every last inch of you to shreds. Mind, body and soul, you will be obliterated. Oh yes, Mr. Zirando. The day of reckoning is upon you, I am the hand of retribution and mercy is not in my nature. Not when it comes to men without certitude or conviction. Weaklings that shouldn't be allowed to continue. Poor, miserable, inadequate mortals, who hide behind their faith for strength and still weep and shit themselves. Tell me... holy man, how could you possibly save me, when you can't even save yourself?"


"Where is your god now?"