The wrought iron gates of Golden Grove Cemetery, clanged loudly together with the frigid chill of the wind. In spite of the bright radiance of the sun; every now and then, peaking out from its place nestled within a fluffy white blanket of clouds. Occasionally filtering through the barren branches of the trees. It was quite cold out and even though it technically wasn't officially winter yet, the frosty weather foretold what lay ahead and of things to come in the following months. Snow blanketed the property and covered the once grassy green knolls, while underneath, the ground was frozen to stone. As hard as the granite that was used to create some of the monuments. Yes, the promise of a bitterly cold winter was in the air; however, that didn't change the day or the obligations that needed to be met.

Lines of chairs occupied by men wearing dark suits and women in black dresses and coats, were positioned upon a hill, beneath a large weeping willow. Tears and tissues were both exchanged, as well as the support from strong upper arms given freely to squeeze or hold onto in this hour of sorrow, while a priest gave a sermon at the head of a casket. Within it rested an elderly woman, appearing as tranquil as someone that was simply asleep. Alas that was not the case. For in truth, she was held in the embrace of the eternal slumber of death, to which there was no stirring or waking up from. Clearly she was loved though, adored and cherished by all. Based on the turn out and the overpowering effect her loss had on everyone. Not a soul in attendance, wasn't stricken with grief nor did a dry eye exist in the vast masses. Save for the exception of one.

Several yards off in the distance, past rows of trees and tombstones, a man dressed all in black, with short black hair, a nearly emotionless expression and serious eyes, smoked a cigarette and looked on. Although there also existed a faint trace of wistful melancholy, accenting his gaze as well. Barely detectable, it was there. Not that he was noticeable to anyone else. The man maintained his station and leaned his back against the trunk of a tree, taking a drag from his cigarette as he continued to watch. From somewhere behind him, a woman in a grey hooded parka, approached. Silently she walked, her boots nary making even the slightest sound of a singular crunch on the snow and ice, she moved with the stealth of a ninja. Face covered with a scarf, the only traits visible was her golden brown eyes and flowing dark chestnut hair, cascading from under the confines of her coat's fur trimmed hood. She stopped a mere few feet from the man but kept her focus directed in front of herself.

"I never took you for the sentimental type."

"I'm not and since when do I need someone trailing behind me, keeping track? I thought there was more trust in my abilities than that."

"This should show you proof, regarding the importance of the mission and what needs to be done."

"Oh, I got all that, loud and clear. Back when I was given my orders."

"Did you? Look at where you are standing, you're in attendance of a funeral. This very act is swaying from protocol."

"Believe me when I say, I fully comprehend the severity of what's at stake when it comes to the mission and I am not in attendance, I'm simply watching."

"Are you sure this won't compromise anything cause if you fuck up..."

"I won't fuck up. Haven't yet, don't plan to start now."

"No, you listen. If you fuck up, both our asses are on the line, do you hear me? Probably mine more than yours."

"You can rest assured, that will not happen."

"So who is that then? The lady in the coffin, who is she to you?'

"No one anymore, she's gone now and I'm nothing more than a ghost standing in a graveyard."

"Interesting. The dead paying respect to the dead."

"Something like that."

---

There was a distinct drone emanating from the harsh florescent light that shone down onto the interior of a tiny, cluttered and cramped office, when the mysterious stranger from the cemetery, entered. A persistent, monotonous hum that could drive someone mad. Which explained the frazzled state of the woman, clenching a pencil between her teeth as she typed away on a computer. Red framed glasses sliding down on her nose, a frenzy of curls tied up into a bun that was gradually falling out of place and a pants suit, that looked like it stepped straight out of the eighties, fully equipped with gigantic shoulder pads. She was the picture of a nervous breakdown, waiting to happen. The sound of the door closing, almost making her jump ten feet out of her skin. She stood up and instantaneously knocked over a nearby cup of coffee. The hot, steamy libation swiftly invaded her desk, saturating into the mounds of paper that littered it. Tragic circumstances that she was quick to attempt to remedy with napkins that were hastily pulled from a desk drawer, to no avail. The damage had been done and a large majority of the paperwork was in ruins. This realization made the woman sigh as she returned to her seat, before raising her sights to the man that caused all this turmoil when he entered.

"Can I help you?"

"I think so, I'm looking for Irene Fitz. We spoke on the phone about a possible position with the company."

"And you are?"

"Travis..."

"Right, right, right. Travis Stone. That was me that you talked to, I'm Irene Fitz. Sorry, today has been a hectic day, so far. Nonstop insanity from the moment that I walked in. Please. Take a seat."

Complying with the request, Travis Stone sat down on a chair, located on the opposite side of the desk.

"Now you applied for a placement within the XWF as a wrestler, correct?"

"That is correct."

"Okay well I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for the job."

"Just like that? There's no screening process? You don't want to know about my credentials or what qualifications I have to actually wrestle?"

"Honey, it doesn't matter. Literally everyone that applies, gets the job. Half the time we do this over the phone or send an email. It's just with the holiday season approaching, things are crazy and I wanted to see to it that your paperwork was filed properly, so we can get you put into the system and make sure you receive a regular paycheck. This is nothing more than a minor technicality. The big boss man is on everyone's case to verify that it gets done and in a timely manner. I simply need you to sign a few forms, then you'll be all set to wrestle."

"Seems like there should be more to it than that though. I mean how do you know I'm not dangerous? Some kind of escaped mental patient or a felon that was convicted on a murder charge?"

"We have a strict don't ask, don't tell policy on that sort of thing. Cause what we don't know, can't come and bite us in the ass later. Then if something does come up later or there's a lawsuit, we can claim it's all a gimmick that was conjured up by our creative team, an act that was done in the name of entertainment. Thus ensuring that you're hide is saved as well as ours. Under strict confidence, we've had a few psychos and murderers pass through here, adds to the flavor and flair of the company."

"What if someone gets killed in the ring?"

"Oh that's happened before, that merely puts a guarantee on the audience's enjoyment. The fans of the XWF really love their bloodshed. They can't get enough of it. And if someone dies? Our ratings are sure to skyrocket for the next six months."

Pause.

"Wait a minute. You're asking some odd questions. Are you a cop? You wearing a wire? Who sent you?"

"No. I'm not a cop and I am definitely not wearing a wire. No one sent me, I came here of my own volition."

"You sure? Cause you have to tell me if you're a cop, otherwise that's entrapment. I know the law."

"I'm not a cop!"

"Alright, relax, no need to yell. You were just starting to raise some red flags."

"Because I asked what happens if someone gets killed in the ring?"

"See, you're doing it again."

"I legitimately want to know what I'm walking into so I can prepare for what lies ahead."

"That's impossible to tell."

"Excuse me?"

"Figuring things out and planning a strategy, that's impossible. You might get placed in a fight and wipe the floor with the guy or you could get your skull bashed in and brutally beat down. The future is unknown as far as that goes. I'm sure you'll do fine though. You seem like a big, tough, strong guy. I wouldn't worry about it. Anyhow, I have these forms, I need you to go ahead and start signing them for me. No need to read them, I can assure you there's nothing illegal going on here."

"Right. I can clearly see that now. Tell me, what is your policy on firearms?"

"We can't restrict what we don't 'officially' know about and we can't 'officially' know about what we can't see."

With a nod, Travis began signing forms.

"You know what, I think I'm gonna like it here."

"Excellent. Good to hear."

---

"So this is the XWF, land of the X-treme and home of some of the best and most ruthless in the biz. I have to admit, I'm not an avid follower of wrestling but I am well acquainted with combat and I have seen my fair share of the battlefield. Fighting is not a foreign concept to me. Neither is understanding that most of you, if not all, will do whatever it takes in order to achieve victory. There isn't anything wrong with that, I can appreciate that mentality. It's good to strive for such a goal. To yearn for the win and desire that accomplishment."

"Now as I understand it, come the next edition of Wednesday Night Warfare, I am set to face Bearded War Pig, Donovan Blackwater, Noah Jackson and some random mystery man, with the prospect of becoming the next Television Champion. Noah Jackson being the actual wielder of the title. That's alright too, I can wrap my mind around that concept and set my sights on the prize. Get myself nice and prepared for the match and ready myself to do what it takes to claim the win. And believe me when I say, I will do whatever it takes."

"Cause that's why we're here, that's the name of the game. Like capture the flag, only this is for a shiny trinket, wrapped around someone's waist and we're waging literal war on one another. War. That's something I get most of all. What a great many of you out there, know nothing about. Sure there might be some that can attest to different but not all of you. I'm willing to bet that more than half of this federation, hasn't stepped foot out onto a battlefield and really experienced warfare in its finest."

"That isn't talking down on your experience as wrestlers or what you accomplished here, it's merely a fact. A statistic. As I said before, I have seen my fair share, maybe even more than my fair share to be honest and boy oh boy, it is hell. A test of strength and character that you can never truly prepare yourself for and will only learn of its existence, when you are forced to encounter it first hand."

"When you're tossed right into it and you're there, with nowhere else to go, that's when you truly come to understand it. When you're staring it straight in the face and you have no choice but to charge forward. Continue onward. Not knowing what the next day will bring. To fight or die. That's when you know, really know that you have what it takes to survive. I can tell you right now, I sure as shit have what it takes and I will do everything within my power to not only persevere but also claim a successful completion of this here competition as well. No matter what. Think about that when you're standing across the ring from me, seriously think about that statement. Know it and understand it as fact. Then look deep down inside and ask yourself, are you ready to do the same?"

"War is fucking hellfire and brimstone and come this next edition of Warfare, Donovan Blackwater, Noah Jackson, Bearded War Pig and mister mysterious man of mystery that chooses to hide in the shadows, you will walk head on, right into it when you face me. That is a promise. One that I will most assuredly guarantee."