Toreno was busy placing papers on the table left and right, almost faster than the speed of light it seemed. Luca didn't care in the slightest what he was doing, he couldn't take his eyes off the picture. Jeffery Heiman's smug looking face staring back at him was almost too much to bear, even if it was but a picture.

"Hey! Are you even listening?"

Unflinching, Luca slowly moves his eyes up from the picture until they meet the cold, beady eyes of Toreno.

"What the fuck do you have a picture of Heiman for?"

"None of your fucking business, kid. Now, answer me! What do you have to put up for collateral if you fuck up?"

"I won't fuck up."

Before the sentence is even finished, the cold heartened man's fist fiercely meets Luca's jaw, knocking him back a bit. Shaking it off, he looks back at Toreno, who's now smiling.

"Collateral. Now."

"My life."

Toreno's eyebrow raises at the proposition, but he isn't totally shocked. Plenty of people have staked that as collateral, and plenty of people have paid that ultimate price.

"Very well. Onto more pressing matters now, your role in fixing the world."

"No need to be so dramatic, Toreno. We both know that politicians can't change a thing."

Remembering the degrading role Heiman had him once masquerade in as a communist activist for the first time in months, Luca can't help laugh as the last sentence escapes his mouth.

Toreno however, isn't so amused. He slams his palms hard on the table, triggering a bang that echoes through the mostly empty apartment.

"I am not. A fucking politician!"

Luca looks away from Toreno, supposedly in fear of him. In reality he's silently laughing at how sensitive this glorified politician was at being called out on his bullshit.

"Message received big man! My table is terrified of you now, by the way."

Abruptly, Toreno grabs Luca by the collar of his dress shirt and hoists him up in the air with one hand. He stares right into Luca's eyes and sees two colder pairs of eyes staring back at him.

"Fuck this! I don't have time to deal with this shit! Fuck you and your collateral, this meeting is over! OVER!"

Dropping Luca back on the ground, causing him to lose his balance momentarily on the landing, Toreno turns and walks toward the door. Laughing maniacally at the predicament he was just in to now see the man who put him in it just turn tail and leave, Luca cannot resist the urge to berate Toreno.

"Go ahead, walk away you pussy! Such a big man can't handle just the slightest bit of mood lightening, who needs 'ya? I can find the answers on my own without any fucking collateral owed to someone else! Have fun fighting your secret war, you CIA cocksucking whore!"

The door slams behind Toreno in the middle of Luca's rant. The man left in the apartment can't help but smile as he turns his attention to the table...

...and sees the briefcase and all of its contents still there...






Luca's eyes frantically dart from left to right as he focuses his attention on a piece of paper chronicling the latest CIA action in El Salvador. Fascinating shit, if you don't mind having to decode cryptic CIA bullshit and code talking. Luca can't help but think to himself as he reads:

Neutralized? Just come out with it and say you fucking burned the village down, you psychotic sacks of shit! How can the government call anyone crazy if they hire such lunatics? Oh well, Catch-22 logic there anyway. If they object on the grounds that they are crazy, they really aren't.

The fact that the CIA even trusted half of this shit with Toreno is a scary fact in and of itself, being how easy it was for Luca to get sole access to every document in the briefcase due to the owner's incompetence.

Finally, the document that Toreno was holding onto mere moments before he stormed out so rudely is the one Luca wants to read. As he skims through it, the problem the CIA even wanted his help solving becomes evident.

They don't wanna take the heat for killing a couple drug dealers. Fucking pussies...

Laughing once more, this time all the way to the bank, Luca pulls out the third cell phone's he's had in the last 6 months and dials up the man who put him in contact with Toreno in the first place. DEA Agent Michael Rodriguez.

"What the fuck do you want, Luca?"

"Your friends in the CIA got themselves into some pretty thick shit, didn't they?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Do they not train their agents to keep their briefcases on them at all times?"

"You tell me imm-"

"Toreno was more incompetent than you are, he left behind his little bag of secrets! Secrets that could get a lot of people in a lot of trouble, you slimy cocksucker!"

"That god damned, what do you want?"

"First, a little respect. Second, I want $20,000,000 to keep this our little secret. Third, I want you personally to take the heat for the two pushers that I'm going to kill."

"This wire's tapped you fool! We got on you so many charges, it isn't even funny!"

"Those cops come anywhere near me, there's going to be a bigger breach of government information than Wikileaks, mark my fucking words."

"Fuck. How am I supposed to get that money?'

"You could start by telling the CIA to cut Toreno's bloated budget."

Click, the phone line goes dead as Agent Rodriguez sits in his office. He lays his head down on the desk, unsure of how to go about the rest of the day...



"Am I the only here who's here?

Let me elaborate, I'm stuck here waiting and waiting for someone else to say something about our match. Maybe Scott Charlotte to whine about how I judged him in between licks of Mr. Satellite's space-cock for any bit of attention. Newsflash, Charlotte:

Satellite can and will fucking destroy you if given the opportunity!

Now, how do I know this? As embarrassing as it sounds, he's beaten me. Twice, to be precise. However, in both efforts I did something you could never hope to do, even in your fucking prime.

I almost won.

I have no shame in losing to the champion, hence why I'm not listing off a bunch of half assed excuses about losing to Soldier, like Sebastian Duke does whenever the odds don't swing his way. That's why I don't cry a literal river like Gilmour does whenever someone shows him up. Newsflash Petey:

Bitching about how the new tag champs cheated you in a match YOU created makes you look like even more of dumbass than you already are.

Now Charlotte, why don't you pull your head out of your ASS and start paying attention to the only opportunity you're going to get to be something here at this rate! Do I have to do every fucking thing for this team?

Fuck it, why hasn't Ann Thraxx said anything yet? She normally stands in the middle of an XWF ring and wastes everyone's collective time with a long winded rant about how much of a cunt she is spoken in a different dialect each time. Proving once more how utterly useless she is. The fact that this enhancement so-called talent is anywhere close to a match that matters is astounding, and deeply worrying. At least she's not on my side, I'm no damn miracle worker. Wait, maybe I am, I did make her ex-boyfriend watchable, if only for one match.

Finally, we fly way off the radar of mental sanity and land in the backyard of the Unknown Soldier. It's unknown to me just how I managed to slip up so badly I managed to let this fucking halfwit escape with my fucking title, but what's happened has happened, no use in being a sniveling little Sebastian Duke/Peter Gilmour over spilled milk, right?

Soldier, are you still sleeping? Are you that lost in your own deluded fantasies that any touch with reality is too much? Maybe you're just so high on a combination of goat meth and the surging sense of pride you're going to hide when you do say something over beating me.

Just going to say this, right here and now before you get any funny ideas. I'm going to go on record and predict Soldier's course of action for him. Bear with me here, I'm not used to going full .

Soldier's going to issue his statement and say he trampled over 3 easy opponents that didn't deserve being in the ring with him. Real trashing, cutting shit about how much better he is than me.

Months will pass, and by this time I'll be one of the top champions, y'know, the type of people he's too scared to go after. He'll be in a match with some upstart, because that's all he's good for anyway, and that upstart will only know me as said top champion. He'll then go on some long winded spiel about how he beat the champion and how much that win meant.

How pathetic he is, to do a complete 180 on his words.

I still say that Mr. Satellite is a space age .

Why?

Because I'm a man of my words. Not a twofaced cunt.

Seeya Saturday, Soldier.

That is, if you don't OD before then.

Tick.

Tock."