Erik Black lived in a castle. It was a modest castle. It was huge. There was an outer wall of river rock that stood about fifty feet high. Inside that wall was a massive garden of white roses that formed a bit of a maze. Of course there was a brick driveway for cars. The home portion of the property was massive as well. It was five stories high with four spiral towers that sat at each corner.



The XWF camera crew found Erik Black sitting in a throne room sunlight shined though a huge stained glass window that depicted Erik winning a championship belt. The man himself sat on a golden throne. He wore a charcoal grey suit and red tie. He looked contented, even with everything that was going on. He had a black eye, obviously from his battles against Chris Chaos and Drew Archyle. The battle against both had been close but Erik had been beaten both times. He had, however, given both of them the fight of their lives.



"Welcome to my home."Erik said with a smile as he saw Steve Sayors coming through the door.

It was a fake smile. Erik hated Steve Sayors, but he had signed a contract. Doing interviews was part of that contract.



"Very beautiful home you have here, Erik.", Steve started.

Erik coughed.

"Mr. Black.", Erik corrected.

Steve nodded. "Im sorry..Mr. Black."

Erik nodded in approval.



Erik waited patiently while the cameras were set up. They didnt need to be. Erik always had a camera crew with him. Interviews weren't needed. Everyone knew these things already.



"Mr. Black. You've been in some real wars lately in XWF ring. You've lost both matches. Have you ever dealt with that before?", Steve asked.

Erik thought for a moment. Everyone faced losses..even the greatest.



"Well. I can't say I like it, Steve. It sucks to be quite honest. What I can say is this. I put those two men through hell. They'd never faced anyone like me. They'd never had a difficult match like these two were and they probably wont have one again..atleast until we face each other again. but I can say that losing is part of what we do. No one can win them all. It doesn’t matter how good you are in that ring. I'm the best to have ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring. i am the most dangerous man on the planet...but I"ve had my share of losses. You simply realize the mistake you made and be sure not to make it again.", Erik answered flatly.

He wouldn't let his emotions take control. Especially after what Robert Main had said about him.







"Can we talk about Robert Main's comments before your match?", Steve asked.

Erik's right eye twitched with annoyance. He didn’t like Robert Main. Be considered the man to be among the lowest of the low. Erik sat there quietly for a moment, obviously trying to calm himself.



"” Sure, Steve. He thinks I eat Tide Pods. This man waited days and days to shoot a promo and all he has to say is that he thinks I eat Tide Pods. Our Hart Champion is a real winner, isn’t he? He can’t even play the hype game, Steve. And hes the Hart Champion? I know that we have to face each other after hyoing this match, but Bob Main has to be borxerline . Tide Pods? Really?”, Erik started.

Steve put a hand up, asking Erik to pause for a moment.

"What do you mean ?", Steve asked asked.

Erik sighed to himself. He didn't think he'd need to explain that.



Do you even bother watching these things, Steve? Tide Pods. That idiot waited all week to talk about Tide Pods. It’s quite sad really. He’s almost as bad at this part of the game as he is in the ring. I was expecting thoughts of grandeur. What I got was a “You eat Tide Pods” show from a dirty strip joint. I guess you could say that OI was expecting more. But I was very let down. I guess I’ll be let down at Turning Point too. Robert Main can’t put up a fight verbally…and he can’t put up a fight physically., Erik answered.

Steve had been writing everything down which seemed to get on Erik's nerves. And why wouldn't he? There were cameras. Steve didnt need to write anything down. He only needed a piece of paper with his questions on it.



At Turning Point, You face off with Robert Main. I dont think you've ever faced him. What are your thoughts on this man?", Steve asked.

Erik sat there flabbergasted by the line of questioning. He wondered just how long Steve Sayors had been in the business.



Wow, Steve. Are you that dumb? We’ve been talking about my match with Main this entire time.", Erik started.

He saw Steve was about to ask another question but shook his head.

"Let me ask you a question, Steve, because you’re obviously barely able to put more than one thought together at any given time. What does Robert Main have that can stand up to me?.", Erik answered.

He waited Steve to answer. It took a moment Steve to think. He finally shrugged his shoulders.



"Exactly, Steve.", Erik answered flatly.


He doesn’t have anything. He’s just a man. He’s a guy who has had a little success and now thinks that he’s a great. His skills in the ring are lackluster at best. He was once a big talker. I’ve watched him talk a big game but now? Now he’s relegated to school yard insults. He knows he’s in over his head but he’s just too stupid to admit it to himself. It’s his funeral.

Steve, who was writing everything down, crossed his legs to make himself more comfortable.



"So you're saying he will be on the losing end at Turning Point?", Steve asked.

Erik rolled his eyes.

”Of course, Steve. He will be utterly destroyed, unless he decides to just say fuck it and relenquish the Hart Title. It's his choice, but know this..He can not win..", Erik finished.



"You're forgetting that Robert has been a fighting champion”, came Steve’s next question.



Erik scoffed at Steve Sayors.

”You throw the term “champion” around more than you need to, Steve. Robert Main is champion by title only. He fights like a guy who doesn’t know that you aren’t supposed to shit in the kitchen. He’s no champion. He’s a chump. He has been fighting. I’ll give him that. He’s taken on all comers and he’s held that title respectfully. But a champion is someone who is actually good. Robert Main isn’t that. And yes, before you bring it up, I’ve said that Robert Main is dangerous. And it’s true. Compared to most of the XWF roster, Robert Main is dangerous. But, Steve, that’s like being the tallest midget. He’s only dangerous when compared to the water heads that make up XWF. That includes refs and interviewers.”, Erik answered with a sigh.



"You are a very confident man.”, Steve said, obviously ignoring the jab at himself.



"And I have every right to be, Steve. You've seen what I can do. The entire XWF world has seen what I can do. I took this place by storm. Every opponent I’ve faced has been taken to their limit.", Erik said smugly.



Steve wrote this down and stared at his paper.



"Erik. I'd like to thank you for having me in your home today."



Erik grinned and nodded. Of course the smile was fake. Erik hated Steve Sayors and his stupid questions. He hated the whole process.



Steve got his things and left Erik alone.



............




Manuel Tejada was, at one time, a bell hop at the Mariott in Miami, Florida. He'd worked there for many years, helping customers with their bags and such. He saw things and people come and go. He knew things. I needed to know what he knew. After all, I had to get to Jason Cash before it was too late.



So what did I do? Well, Lets just say that Manuel keeps the same schedule. It took me a while to figure it out, but I did. I’d had the man followed for quite some time. I’d gotten the information from the delivery driver who had delivered the video a few days ago. Since then, Id had Manuel Tejada followed.



I'd kidnapped the man one night after a long shift and took him to room four twenty nine of that same Marriott hotel. I'd chained him to a wall and simply waited for him to wake up.



"Where am I?"



I looked up from my seat. I'd been drifting in and out of sleep since I'd brought him here. I was glad he was awake.



"You are in room four twenty nine, Manuel. Dont be alarmed but you're currently chained to a wall.", I said with a smile across my face.

I buttoned my grey suit jacket as I stood up to greet this man. He'd cone to enough to realize that he was, indeed, chained to a wall. He fought against those chains. It was actually a site to behold.

You see, Manuel was not a small man. He stood about six feet tall. He weighed about two hundred pounds. He had a strong build, but he wasn't a physical monster capable of breaking chains.



"You can't escape. Save your strength.", I said smugly.

It was quite enjoyable watching him try to escape, but I didn't want him wearing himself out. No, I wanted there to be plenty of fight in him.



"Who are you? Why am I here?", he asked.



"I am Erik Black. You're here because I need some information about a man who may be staying on the top floor of the Marriott. And I know you have this information. So you have two choices. You can tell me what I need to know. Or you can refuse to tell me, in which case I will get it out of you in a rather violent manner.", I said with a grin.



"Information? Im just a bellhop.", He said.

Except he wasn't "Just a bellhop.". No. Manuel here was more than that. He'd been waiting on Drache hand and foot. He was close to the man. I'd seen it with my own eyes as I scouted him. And so I shook my head.



"Manuel. I know the truth here. I know that you have the information I need. I know that you deal very closely with Drache. Im going to ask you, again, not to lie to me. If you do, I will be forced to pretend you are Robert Main. And I assure you...Things will be painful.", I said.

Part of me wanted him to lie. I felt the urge to kill him quickly. It was an odd feeling. One that I hadn't felt in quite some time.



"Drache? I dont fucking know who that is!"



I smiled as I reached into my pocket. I brought forth a picture of the two shaking hands. I showed him another of Drache giving him a DVD. I then showed him a picture of Drache giving him a cell phone.



"You have one more chance before I begin.", I said to him.

He shook his head.

"I dont know what you're talking about.", He said.



"You know that the dvd he gave you was a video of a friend of mine being beaten and tortured, don’t you?", I asked.

"He was barely alive in the video. His right eye was hanging out of the socket.", I added



I shook my head and pulled a small knife from my pocket. It was no more than two inches long. While this wouldn't do much damage, I did not want it to. This was simply about pain.



The cut on his exposed forearm was swift and as deep as the knife would go. Manuel recoiled back, but I grabbed the arm. With a twinkle in my eye, I poured the contents of a clear bottle onto the wound. His screams filled my ears as the alcohol and salt mixture sealed into the bloody gash. It was glorious.



"Now that you know Im serious, I have a question for you. Drache does business outside of the US. Where?", I asked. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"Wrong answer."



The knife, while small, was extremely sharp. It cut through his thumb life a hot knife through butter. Of course I had to grab his right hand and hold it still. This was easily done with a simple wrist lock.



He screamed in pain and tried to grab his right hand. The screams echoed through the hotel room that was illuminated by a single overhead light. I was going to treat him the same way I was going to treat Robert at Turning Point. He deserved the torture I was putting on poor Manuel.



"That looks like it hurts.", I said with a grin.

Manuel gritted his teeth. His screams had subsided to a whimper. I gave him a moment to collect himself.



"I've tracked him to somewhere in South America. I can't find anything else. That's where you come in. I know that you know, Manuel. Tell me and your pain ends. Lie to me and it increases. The choice is yours.", I said in an emotionless tone.

I would get the information from him one way or another. I didn't care how. It was his choice. It wasn't mine.



"Please...just..let...me...go.", He said.

"Wrong answer.", I replied.



I stabbed him in the left arm, just below the wrist. The knife wasn't long enough to go all the way through, but the damage was done. Manuel whimpered. He wasn't losing alot of blood, but the pain was getting to him.



"Please..."



I grinned at the man chained to the wall. He was resilient. I'd give him that. He was also very stupid. I knew the truth.



"I need to know where..", I started.

"Please...", he whimpered, cutting me off. I'd be lieing if I said this didnt bother me. It did. I reached into my suit jacket. What I had planned next would need something...bigger.



The knife I pulled from my suit glittered under that light. It was a hunting knife that was three inches wide and about seven inches long. I grinned at Manuel when he saw the knife.



"Lets play a game, Manuel. Lets see how many tendons this knife can slice through before you stop lieing to me.", I said flatly.



"I..dont..know..", he started.

I laughed a little.

"You're trying to lose the game before we even start.", I said.

"I know its South America. Where?", I asked.

He shook his head.



"Strike one.", I muttered.



He couldn't move his legs or bend down. This made thing much easier when I crouched down and rolled up his right pant leg. I could feel his muscles tighten and scream out as I placed the edge of the blade just above his left heel. The blade sliced through the Achilles tendon rather easily. My ear drums nearly burst with the loudness of Manuel's scream.



I gave him a few moments to collect himself. The screams were very loud. They hurt my ears. His body shook with pain. It was his fault, however. He'd brought all of this on himself.



"That was strike one, Manuel. You get three.", I said as I wiped his blood from the blade with a white towel.

It took some time, but his sobs subsided. He stood there shaking, no doubt wondering why this was happening. I'd already told him. Everything that was happening to him was his fault.



"Please, sir. I have a family.", he sobbed.

I didn't care. I only wanted information. If he died this night, it would be him leaving his family. It would not be me taking him from his family.



"Then give me what I need, Manuel. This is your fault. You continue to lie to me. Why? Afraid of him? He'll die soon enough. But you? You don't have to. Give me what I need and you live. The pain ends and you go home.", I said flatly.



"I dont know anything."



Another lie. And for what? To protect a man that would have already killed him? Im not saying that I wouldn't have, but I atleast give them choices. Much like Id give Robert Main a choice. He can come to Turning Point and be humiliated..Put through unimaginable pain. Or he could forfeit and save himself the pain.



"Im going to ignore what you just said, Manuel. I know its in South America. Tell me where. Do not lie to me and say that you do not know.", I said as I stared at him.



"I dont know."



I grinned to myself and picked up the blade from my lap.

”Youre losing this game, Manuel. That's strike two. You get one more.".



I walked over to him with the blade in my right hand. He'd already started sobbing. It was pathetic. I knelt down in from of him and jammed the blade into the area just below his right kneecap.

Slicing the acl wasn't easy, but with a little pressure as if prying open a door, it snapped. Blood squirted on my face, which I left there for Manuel to see.



"Does that hurt?", I asked.

Manuel couldn't answer. He was far too busy trying to catch his breathe from the intense pain he felt.



I sat there and gave him some time to recover as I had been all night. I'd wiped the blood from my face and knife. Something in the air changed. The pressure in the room grew. It was hard to breathe. Intense heat filled the room. The temperature had to have risen by ten degrees in a matter of seconds. The hairs on my neck and arms began to stand on end and the floor shook as if there was an earthquake.



"What's that?", Manuel whimpered.



I looked at him directly in his eyes for the first time all night. I could see him pleading with me. I could see the fight leaving his body.



"That’s Strike three, Manuel. That would be Jaymz. He’s something…else..entirely. If you tell me what I need to know now, I may be able to change his mind on making you suffer any more than you already have”, I said flatly.

Would I? Of course not. This man worked with my enemy. I’d seen it with my own two eyes. The only reason I didn’t act then was because I’d never find Jason and his family. Drache would die before telling me anything.

I saw the fight finally leave Manuel's eyes. He’d given up just as the pressure in the air became so intense that it felt like a herd of elephants stomping on our bodies.

I looked behind me. The door was glowing red from the immense heat. I didn’t know what Jaymz had done but I knew that it wasn’t good.

Jaymz was evil. He had something inside him. He could do….things. At one point, he took medication to keep the evil inside of him at Bay but he’d stopped taking them months ago. Now? Well..Now he would fly off the handle. He’d lose control of that evil at a moment’s notice. People died when he lost control.

” He’s here”

Manuel's eyes pleaded with me. I didn’t answer him. He knew what I needed.

“Rio.”

There it was. The information I needed. Jason had to be kept there.

I grinned at Manuel. He’d fought the good fight. He’d fought hard, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

“Call him off.”, came the sobs.

I could only laugh to myself. I didn’t kill him myself only because I knew that Jaymz would make things more painful.

No. You had a disc that showed a brother being beaten to death. You deserve a very painful death, Manuel.”, I said with a grin.

“Please!”

Just then as I stared down at this bloodied man who struggled helplessly, the door burst open. Shards of wood scattered through the room. Screams filled the air. They filled my ears. Despair filled my head. I could see it. I could feel it in the air, though I’m not sure why.

I felt the heat from the building as Jaymz stepped into the room. His feet barely touched the ground even though the man was enormous at over seven feet tall. His black coat hung almost to his ankles and seemed to blow in wind that wasn’t there. His scarred face was stuck in a snarl and his eyes swirled with the blackness of a deep abyss. Jaymz was mad. He’d set the hotel on fire. There would be no escape from his fury.

He’s in Rio. And Manuel here…is all yours., I said.

Jaymz looked at me. That snarl turned into a twisted smile. It gave me goose bumps and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Manuel's face was stuck in a scream but no sounds came out. I watched as Jaymz looked down on him. I heard a loud snap. Manuel's body began to break. It started at his legs and moved up, each bone snapping loudly. In the end, the man's body was a twisted mess. His mouth was agape in a silent scream.

I looked up at Jaymz. The heat from the fire was immense. I could feel it, but I knew that he couldn’t. He looked over at me, reading my thoughts.

I woke up in my bed, sweat pouring down my body. My wife wasn’t there. I was alone. I felt a shooting pain on my right arm, so I went to look in the bathroom mirror. My right arm was burned, but it wasn’t a normal burn. It shined silver. I didn’t know why and I didn’t have time to figure it out. I had to get to Rio. But first I’d have to take Robert Main down.

………………….

The following message has been paid for by Erik Black.

Erik Black sat on a tree stump. The sun was beginning to go down bringing a slight chill to the air. The sounds of crickets chirping began to fill the air. He wore a black suit on this night. He looked tired, probably due to his travels recently. But even a tired Erik Black is a dangerous one.

” All week, Bob. All week I wait for you. All week I wonder what kind of ignorant bullshit you’re going to spew from your mouth. And you do not disappoint. Let me ask you this. Who the hell is Theo Pryce and why should I care? I’m Erik Black. I’m the man you’re facing at Turning Point. Me. The most dangerous man you’ve ever had the pleasure of being in the ring with….and you compare me to someone who isn’t even around? Not good, Bob. You should know better. Hell I thought you did, but it seems that your ignorance knows no bounds.

I’m Erik Black. I’m your worst nightmare. I see through your bullshit. While you have Jim and Drew behind you..whispering into your ear about how good you are, I’m here telling you the truth about yourself. I’m here letting you know that you have the fighting skill of a paralyzed monkey and this is how you repay me? You talk about me as if I’m a copy of someone else? Let me ask. Have others told you the truth about yourself? You didn’t listen then either,right? You best them though so they never mattered. Well, Bob, they weren’t as good as me. They had an idea, but not the knowledge that I have or the know how to show you the error in your ways.

Jim and Drew? They lie to you. They don’t know it of course because they too are almost completely worthless. I say almost because Jim has a bit of talent. Drew, however, is about as worthless as an asshole with taste buds. You? Well..I once held you at higher esteem that Drew Archyle. You’re quickly proving that to be false. You aren’t to be held higher. No. You, too, are just about completely worthless.”

Erik stretched his arms and neck.

”No one fears Apex, Bob. More importantly, why would I? None of you have given me a reason to do so. Drew? I left him unconscious. Jim? I’ve seen him fight and he leaves a lot to be desired. And you? I’ve seen through your little charade and have been left wanting. So tell me…what is so scary about Apex? Your beer is so bad it’s scary..but that’s really about it. You do not strike fear into anyone. This is especially true for someone like myself. I’ve seen the things that strike fear into brave men. You’re just a man with a chip on his shoulders. That’s all you are. Your chip comes from not being there for your friend. You don’t want to ever lose because of what you missed. That doesn’t make a man scary. No. It makes him sad. It clouds his mind…even though he doesn’t realize it yet. It’s always back there, Bob. Those thoughts. “I can’t lose. I wasn’t there when Michael needed me. Loses would be like dancing on his grave”. That’s weakness, Bob. You should be fighting for yourself. Your hunger should be for yourself. And I’m sure it used to be. I’m also sure you’ll come at me next saying that it is. We both know the truth…even if you won’t admit it to yourself. Your supposed “hunger” stems from not being there for him. Your drive stems from not being there for him.

Erik chuckled to himself as he watched the last rays of sunlight fall below the tree line. His thoughts drifted to his own friend. He quickly removed them to focus on the task at hand.

”I was that way once. After I entered this business, I sought out my family's killers. That was what drove me all those years in the ring. Money brought power. Power would lead me to the truth. It didn’t. Eventually I had to start fighting for myself. Perfection of this art we call fighting is what drives me now. It’s one of the things that make me dangerous, Bob.

Perfection. Each technique has to be perfect. Each movement has to be done perfectly and with no wasted energy. It takes years of training to do. No movement is done without purpose.

Those are concepts that aren’t understood by those like you. After all..You fight only so that it means something that you weren’t there for Michael. You probably would have quit by now. And you probably should have. I can say this, however, after Turning Point you’ll wish you had. Michael will be looking down on you as you’re embarrassed in that ring.

What will you think, Bob, as you live this? Will you think that you’ve let him down? After all..You still fight because of what you did back then. It drives you. What happens when I’m right? Only you can answer that, Bob. And it’s time you started thinking about it. It’s time to think deeply on the matter, Bob, because you’ll need to come to terms with this devastating loss….one you may not be able to recover from.”

Erik Black stood up. Hoots filled the air. That sound was followed by the squeak of mice as the predator struck.

He began walking, his way lit by the moonlight.

“ I know you’d like to think of yourself as better. After all..Apex tries to get rid of the bullies. Those are your words…not mine. But you stoop to a bully's level. Tide pods? Really? That’s the sort of thing I’d expect to hear on a playground. Have you relegated yourself to schoolyard bully? You’re supposed to be brave. You’re supposed to be better than that. You’re supposed to be the hero of the story. I’m supposed to be the bully…the villain. Does that go over your head? Apparently so because you’ve busted out the childish insult. Eat Tide pods. You could do so much better than that if you weren’t trying so hard to be something you’re could never be. Then again..You’re still trying to be a fighter when you could never actually be one.

Youre supposed to be the stoic hero. Sure you do some fucked up stuff like pay to watch fat women take their clothes off. That isn’t very hero like, but I digress. You’re supposed to show that bullies get nowhere. Stand up for the little man, Bob. But telling me I eat Tide pods? That’s the pot calling the kettle black, Bob. It’s sad and shameful. It’s the teachings of a man who is starting to realize the truth. It’s a truth that he was ill-prepared for. And that truth is simple, Bob. You know that you just aren’t good enough. At one point you could have been. That was years ago. Now? Now you’re nothing. Your edge relies on a past that will never change. Those edges dull very easily, Bob. Yours? It may not be able to slice through hot butter. I know you won’t understand that so I’ll dumb it down for you. Bob…You have nothing. You are nothing. You’re simply a victim of your own circumstance. You could have been a contender. You could have been great. You aren’t and you never will be.

The clock is winding down. The doomsday clock that is your Turning point reads eleven fifty nine. That’s one minute till Armageddon, Bob. And when it strikes twelve, you will be thrown into your own personal hell. One in which there is little hope to escape…and even less hope of preventing. You just don’t have the skill. Sure you would outwardly tell the world that you do. You tell them how great you are. It doesn’t matter how good you think you are. It only matters how good you actually are. Bob…You arent good. At least when it comes to me. You may be good when compared to Drezdin. That guy is just terrible. But to me? You’re about as average as they come. Average doesn’t pin me two out of three times, Bob. Average gets destroyed by me and fails to answer the bell again. That’s what happens when someone like you faces someone like me. It’s the equivalent of a boot meeting a roach for the first and last time. I’m the boot, Bob. I don’t want you to get things confused. I know it’s easy for you.

I hope you’ve shined that belt up. Not that I want it. I don’t. I just don’t want you to have it. Call me selfish, but I think that only people who know what they’re doing in the ring should hold championships. But as I said. Shine it up. It’s mine. And prepare yourself. You’re going to need it.”

Erik Black winked to the camera.

Fade.

HEY LOOOK ARE ME I'S AND CUCKCOCK ALL DAYS DERRRRR HUH HUH HUH GKUG GLUG GIMME YOUR SPERM CELL!

My sig got edited to match my overly shitty behavior so now I can play tough guy asshole IC anywhere I go. Except at home where my mother will beat my o-ring to keep me in line.