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Stevie Tyler · **08-06-2013, 11:56 AM**

STEVIE GETS A GUARDIAN ANGEL

"Thalmond. I didn't expect you to come for me so quickly." The voice came from an old, little, squat englishman sitting on the edge of his hotel bed. It was 2:16am. His name is Lorne Boatwright.

"You know The Order of the Owl accepts no failure," said Christopher Thalmond. The man that assembled the group whose current aim was to eliminate the threat...the catalyst for the endtimes...Stevie Tyler.

The old man took a drag off of a cigarette. "Hmm, yes. I had hoped I would receive another chance, considering my failure was due to Mr. Kenta's impatience."

"Mr. Kenta has paid for his mistake, as well." With that, Thalmond lifted a gun to the old man's head, and pulled the trigger.

Elsewhere, Stevie is having a restless night. That's pretty much all he's had over this past year since Gary possessed him. Tonight, as usual, he's worried about Wednesday. He's always afraid of stepping into the ring, especially with someone new. The fear of the unknown has kept Stevie from doing a lot in his life.

Hell, the fear of the unknown is the reason that, although competing for the XWF, Stevie still stocks dogfood at Wal-Mart.

Tonight, though, and the rest of this week, it hasn't just been Peter Lake that's kept him awake. He was attacked. By an assassin. That was literally trying to kill him. Why the hell?

This wasn't just some gold-hungry person. Someone out for his X-treme Title, which is troublesome enough, this was something else.

Suddenly, in the back of his mind, Gary spoke to him. "Bro, it's nothing to worry about. Trust me."

"What do you mean, 'Trust you,' dude?" Stevie replied. "Absolutely all you've done is had my ass kicked and you want me to trust you? A ninja. Attacked me. With sais, Gary. Like Raphael. That shit is no joke."

"And look at you. Totally alive, bro. I fail to see the controversy. You whine more than JFK did, I swear."

"You mean dead, assassinated JFK!?"

"You say 'tomato'...," Gary said just before a loud crash came from the living room, coupled with a cat's screech.

Stevie shot out of bed and darted into the room in nothing but his Casper the Friendly Ghost boxers (who knew they even made those?) and a Mr. Satellite t-shirt. What he found was Drotte standing over the couch with some sort of pink, oily substance on his hands. Nura was lying on the couch in a thin coat of the same stuff. The cat was hiding and hissing under the computer table. Completely coated.

"This...is not what it looks like," said Drotte the Liar. A fly buzzed loudly around the room and Stevie blocked the entire scene from his mind.

Stevie chased the cat away from the computer desk. He wanted to try to reason with the demonic forces now guiding his life.

"Dude, I understand you're all very powerful and all, and you have your own goals. But, being that I've got this ONE life, and you're doing everything to make sure it's a short one, can you PLEASE let me send ONE email on my own?" They all were silent. Stevie took the silence as acceptance. He began typing.

"To Peter Lake,
You seem like a very talented and dangerous guy. Will you please spare me some pain and humiliation? Fall is coming and it's my favorite season. I'd really hate to miss it being injured. I'd be willing to just hand the belt over to you. I'm sick of being attacked over it and tired of all this in general. I'd really like to wash my hands of re whole thing. Maybe we could hang out? You seem like a cool guy. You like Street Fighter?"

Stevie pressed the send button and felt relieved for the first time in almost a year.

"You make me sick," said Gary in the back of his mind.

"Gary's right, man. Nura could hear it. Of course he could. "Sometimes a man's gotta' stand and fight."

"WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE!?" shouted Stevie.

"Could be worse. I know one spirit that just licks gross thongs off toilets," Nura said.

"At least the bathroom would be clean!" This is true and relevant. The bathroom was a disaster.

There was a knock at the door. Very strange considering the time. Stevie walked over and peered through the peephole. It was covered.

"Who I it?" he asked.

A thick, feminine, Russian accent answered back. "Is Julie. Is you girlfriend. Open and I will make the love to you."

"Yeeeaaaaahhhhh! Now we're talkin'" said Nura. Stevie shot him a glare and he quieted up.

Stevie might be dumb, but not this dumb. "You don't sound like Julie."

Silence. He peeked again...still blocked. Stevie slowly stepped away, and suddenly the door blew open. A petite, red-haired woman stormed in. Nura and Drotte vanish. Even Gary can't be sensed.

The woman marches right up to Stevie and kicks him square in Mr. Satellite's fabric nose. Stevie goes flying across the room and down the hall toward his bedroom.

The Russian methodically walks forward. Her skin begins to peel away as she grows bigger and bigger. By the time she reaches Stevie, she is a lumbering 2-headed hell-dog. Both heads roar in Stevie's face and he's overcome by the smell of sulphur and rotting meat.

It backs up, gearing up to pounce, when another woman appears from thin air between them. She also has red hair, it's flowing. She's wearing white fatigues, and is wielding a flaming sword. Before Stevie registers how beautiful she is, she slashes the beast. It crumbles to ash. She turns, looks at Stevie as if she's disgusted.

"I am Rayha. Your guardian angel. You will fight honorably Wednesday. Do you understand?"

Stevie squeaks.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MAGGOT!?"

He does. So he says.

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