Can the Rayne be Ended?

So you're leaving...
So you're on your own...
Almost again...almost again...almost again, I have...
State your reasons
So?...you're all alone...

Almost again...almost again...almost again, I have...

Sown,
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND I WILL BE FOUND
AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT I WILL BE SIGHTED

Almost again...almost again...almost again, I have...

Sown,
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND

So it's over...
Now, you're on your own...
Almost again...almost again...almost again, I have...

Sown,
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND I WILL BE FOUND
AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT I WILL BE SIGHTED
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND

Almost Again - Strapping Young Lad



******

February 1st 2008 - 6:38pm

He sat in the small empty room, the surroundings completely bare and devoid of any signs of life other than himself and the small flickering flames resting atop the white candles that were positioned on small white porcelain dishes. Even the walls and floor were blank, empty and lifeless, the former painted a pristine white while the latter was a wooden, mahogany flooring, completely clean with nothing save for a large white cushion placed in the centre upon which he was seated cross legged, the sides of his hands rested against his thighs and palms facing upwards while his fingers were bent in a natural and relaxed manner. The lower part of his body was covered by a pair of red, loose fitting and almost ceremonial clothing, his legs with their tight, powerful muscles a star contrast to the fluidity with which this attire could move whenever he walked, ran or flew from the top rope in amazing spectacles of agility. They were abruptly halted midway down his shins by white wrestling boots, the laces hidden not just by the front of the boots which were slightly padded but also by the fact that everything from above the ankle and down happened to be tucked underneath his quads.

The other end of the red attire ended in a white sash that wrapped around his waist and flowed behind him almost like a tail, again a ceremonial air about this piece of linen that was worn at all times whenever he dressed in these clothes, whether he be standing silently while his agent Rikki Lee spoke on his behalf in interviews on camera and for magazines and websites or whether he's inside the ring competing. Surprsingly the sash never got in his way, never forced him to stumble over it or get caught in the ropes despite his tendency for the high flying and acrobatics he loved to perform while in this get up. His hands and wrists were wrapped tightly in white athletic tape, forming a sort of glove that wrapped up the lower half of his forearms while red and gold gauntlets purely for non-competitive actions and for during his entrance were worn over the top, light from the candles glinting slightly and showing off a little of the intricate pattern on each piece of gold. The designs showed a little Kanji to represent the Japanese ancestry he shared thanks to his mother's side of the family, herself a native of the Nantan area in the Land of the Rising Sun while the most prominent design on these gauntlets was an icon from a country not too far from his maternal homeland, a figure with a long flowing beard and robes carrying a guandao, which was a long wooden stick with a huge steel blade attached to one end almost like a mixture between an axe and a sword, similar to a halberd. The figure in question was somebody he occasionally prayed to for strength, courage and wisdom in battle, a powerful warrior from Han Chinese history who was more feared than the mighty if slightly erratic Lu Bu, someone who was revered enough to become a deity, the Chinese God of War himself and someone respected as the epitome of loyalty and righteousness, Guan Yu.

Aside from the gauntlets and higher up his body was a mask, mostly red with a large grey area that looked almost like it could be a face mask for hygienic purposes covering where the mouth and nose are, a big grey vertical line running from top to bottom of the grey area with smaller black ovals each side breaking it up into sections. A golden coloured design ran from the bridge of the nose and around the eye holes, off onto the temples to make this look almost regal and again, ceremonial. The eye holes themselves exposed not just the eyes but the bridge of his nose that connects with his brow, red, gold, white and black paint covering most of the skin to hide it and allow some continuity on the mask. His dark hair was tied up, a hole in the top of the mask exposing the very top of his cranium with his hair pulled taut and ponytail hanging over the back of the mask. His eyes were not seen, closed tightly while his chest and shoulders rose and fell, heaving slightly as he sat deep in meditation.

He meditated on a regular basis, especially when he competed as Delfino, the man that Rikki had dubbed "The Silent Warrior" because he wished not to speak but to deliver anything he needed to say with his actions. It had seemed strange to Rikki at first when Dazz had come to him asking if he'd appear alongside him as his agent on and off screen and use his knowledge of sports and business to his advantage, even do the talking for him if necessary. Of course Rikki had gotten used to it quickly and didn't mind the speaking aspect, especially when he saw just how many people would stand in front of cameras making empty promises of victory or destruction, making threats that would never be upheld about breaking limbs. To Rikki that wasn't what the sport was all about and Dazz had enlightened him and the fans he'd gained so far during his short stint as Delfino to that information, helped them see a breath of fresh air with a persona that never spoke and let actions speak volumes instead, erring on the side of good and justice and honour where so many at the time were all about arrogance and violence.

That's why he wasn't too bothered when Dazz wished to meditate in full Delfino attire, having known the man for years and not hearing of any previous dabblings in the spiritual but accepting it because as "The Silent Warrior" he tried to call upon the spirit of Guan Yu to help aid him, keep him strong and prepared mentally and physically for the many ring wars he would find himself in. Sitting there in front of the candles, he felt his breathing become slower yet his lungs filling with more oxygen than they were only moments before. With his eyes closed, he began to see less of the light coming in from the candles through his eyelids, darkness slowly swirling from a tiny dot in the very middle of his vision and engulfing everything else all around, the orange glow becoming darker and darker as this spread of shadow gradually took over, leaving him with a feeling that he might be in total darkness now. Suddenly, white formed and created a tunnel effect, getting larger and larger as he felt like he was moving at a rapid speed towards the end, finding the desire to shield his eyes from this bright mass before him become overwhelming, almost giving in before his eyes became used to the light, blinking and squinting slightly as he looked around at his surroundings.

Becoming accustomed to where he was, he saw that he was in just an empty void, a part of the cosmos that hadn't yet been tainted by any kind of life or matter whatsoever, just an emptiness that seemed chilling and eerie. He looked to be floating on air despite the fact he could clearly feel something like the hard surface of the ground he'd normally feel while standing anywhere outside of his meditations. It was then that he noticed something in the distance, a small speck that grew in size, seeming to come closer to where he was standing, the speck turning into a silhouette shaped like a person, causing him to frown slightly and squint his eyes a little more to try and see who or what this thing might be. Despite the genuine calming nature of this strange landscape, he felt a slight feeling of fear, a fear of the unknown building and growing deep within his very core, within his soul, rooted to the spot and unable to do anything but watch as this figure came looming out at him, the darkness of the silhouette giving way to details and features.

Within moments, the fear had been replaced by warmth and he felt totally at ease again, watching as the figure moved closer with each step, approaching ever nearer. A friendliness washed over him, bathing him in just as much light as the surroundings, his heart and mind not racing any longer with thoughts on what this figure might be and what it wanted with him, instead knowing somehow that it was a benevolent presence. The finer details of this figure's being became even more noticable to him, a pair of moccasins covering his feet along with the long hide leggings that covered his lower limbs whenever he wasn't competing. A loincloth reached his waist with intricate patterns denoting his roots and traditional designs all over, similar patterns on a belt wrapped around his waist while a buffalo hide was wrapped around his shoulders and a grizzly bear claw attached as a necklace to show that his bravery was noticed and rewarded by his people. His face had traditional markings in white paint while his brown hair was kept under a mighty head dress, signaling his position as a great warrior and leader.

It was the "Blackfoot Warrior" himself, a friend and co-worker he'd enjoyed many conversations with over the last few years. It was Whitecloud.

Standing directly in front of him, Whitecloud beamed that massive smile towards him, even more warmth and pleasantries emanating all around. Looking him up and down, Whitecloud seemed to almost laugh to himself, shaking his head and reaching his hand out to point at him.

Whitecloud: Wow, look at you, you're looking all.....all.......well you look like a mighty warrior.

He could only stare in reply, unable to think of the right words, still feeling the shock that Whitecloud was standing before him in all of his native regalia looking every inch the noble, respected warrior that he himself was in life. Seeming to sense this, Whitecloud released a gentle yet infectious laugh and gently patted him on the shoulder.

Whitecloud: Don't worry Dazz, everything is ok. I'm happy here, I'm at peace and I get to keep an eye on everybody I cared about, including you. I love what you're doing with this Delfino thing though, I think it could really take off. Speaking of which, remove that mask, I want to see your face again and allow you to speak.

Nodding his head gently, Dazz raised his hands behind his head, finding the back of his mask and first pulling apart the fastenings to get to the laces underneath and then fiddling with them, his fingertips grasping and untying the knots. Loosening the mask enough, he yanked at the mask to pull it up over his head, holding it in his hand by his side, Whitecloud looking at the makeup around his eyes and nose, hair still tied back but looking slightly odd in this mix of Dazz and Delfino standing before him.

Whitecloud: That's better. Now, anything you wanna say?

Dazz: I.....we're all missing you man, we're still in shock that....

Whitecloud: I know and I'm sorry. It's just that I wanted to wait until I'd achieved what I could before I had to go.

Dazz: Well I guess being World champion in MCW and inducted as the first member of the MCW Hall of Fame....

Whitecloud: No. They were great honours and I'm proud to be seen as highly as you all put me when I was inducted, the congratulations I received when I won the title and then was inducted were amazing and I felt extremely privileged but no, that wasn't what I meant.

Dazz: Well what did you mean then?

A laugh from Whitecloud, causing Dazz to stand wondering what was so funny.

Whitecloud: I meant that making sure MCW was in the safe and capable hands of Jacob Laymon and ensuring that all of my family was taken care of and yes, that means you too because all of my friends were considered extended family to me.

Suddenly he felt something welling up inside him, a deep angst and sadness that came from nowhere, rising up throughout his body and finally reaching the upper portion of his torso. His throat felt as if it was tightening up, clamping itself shut while his eyes felt heavy, face feeling flushed and hot as his skin reddened. With cheeks feeling heavy all of a sudden, Dazz could feel the warm trickle of fluid seeping from his eyes, knowing he was crying at these beautiful words as well as the recent loss of his friend who had now appeared before him, holding a conversation just like when he were alive and well. It all felt too much to bear, more tears snaking their way down his face like a snail trail, dripping from his jawline to the white vastness below. He'd become a mess of emotion, mouth trembling and a shortness of breath as his shoulders shook under this uncontrollable sadness and outpouring of grief. This strong person who had spent years boasting about his career, telling anyone who would listen about his many storied accomplishments in professional wrestling, being known as both arrogant at times while also hard working and then the past month under the Delfino persona remaining unemotional, focused entirely on giving his all inside the ring now reduced to a wreck. He felt embarrassed at the fact he was crying but Whitecloud just watched on with interest, no judgment or condescending looks, just giving off an aura that allowed Dazz to feel at peace with his own emotions, to feel ok about this outburst of sadness.

Whitecloud: It's ok, everything will be ok.

His hand was gently placed on the shoulder of his weeping friend, causing Dazz to look up into his eyes, his own vision still a blur of stinging tears with a flesh coloured tinge. Wiping away the tears with his hands, he finally managed to get a better glimpse of Whitecloud than one he'd had since his own grief spewed out and almost drained his tear ducts, his face still aching slightly from the outpouring of emotion. The Blackfoot Warrior didn't seem to mind in the slightest, a smile forming on his face as Dazz placed a hand upon Whitecloud's that was still situated atop the shoulder of the teary eyed Canadian.

Dazz: I'm sorry, I just.....I don't know what came over me.

Again he felt that same sense of warmth and joviality that always purveyed Whitecloud during life, a feeling that drilled down deep into your core and settled, planting itself like a seed and growing until the upset and the hurt had disappeared, vanished for at least the forsseable future anyway.

Whitecloud: Don't worry Brother, just know this. While I left all my Brothers and Sisters, I don't want any of you to grieve for me or be upset. Life is just a journey, you either take one path or the other and no matter what, you have to enjoy the ride otherwise by the time you reach your destination you'll have regrets. Never regret anything Dazz. The man with regrets is the man who never really fulfilled his life, I already fulfilled mine by getting to know good people like you, now I'm at peace with my ancestors, I'm able to look down and feel proud of those I knew and look forward to what you all do next before we all meet again.

That feeling of welling up began again but this time he was able to control it, pushing it down wilfully so as not to break down again, wanting to continue this conversation without interruption just in case it ended suddenly and without warning, so many things he wanted to ask, to say.

Whitecloud: Look at you though, what's all this about?

Dazz: This? I wanted to try and earn respect, see if it could be given if I went under a mask and different look and in ring style completely.

Whitecloud: Well you look great and trust me, your plan will work.

That statement made him reel back slightly, a surprising comment to make. How could he possibly know that? Was it a real prediction of the future or just simply a guess, something said to a friend to raise their spirits and give a sense of hope even if the plan was to fail miserably? Even if it was, he'd never get that vibe from Whitecloud since he was gentle and kind in nature anyway and was always known to help people out, give them advice so deep down, part of him just knew that comment wasn't just someone feeding him a line for his own ego and seemed to genuinely know it were truth whether he could see the future or generally wished it would happen since he always thought the very best of everyone he met.

Dazz: It....it will?

Whitecloud: Of course it will. You have the drive and determination to make it work and it will be something to behold, something that to the jealous minority will seem unscrupulous but to the majority will seem heroic and worthy of your talents.

Dazz: Why would people be jealous? Why would it be seen as unscrupulous? I only want to gauge reaction and see if I can earnr espect this way.

Whitecloud: Exactly. Those people are so used to having everything handed to them purely because of who they know that once your task is complete, they'll claim that you did something underhanded when all you'd have achieved by then is everything you fail to achieve without that mask and you'll have done it the hard way.

Dazz: And what exactly will I....

Whitecloud: That's something you'll have to discover for yourself.

A large smile followed, causing Dazz to grin in response, knowing that was the extent of his coercion and that no matter how hard he might try, Whitecloud would never give up any more information, instead allowing him the chance to experience the future for himself rather than inform him and have him waiting for moments to happen that he knew were incoming.

Dazz: I want to honour you somehow, let you and the rest of the world know just how much you're being missed already. I mean, you were taken way too soon and it just isn't fair that someone like you would have to leave us all like that.

The Blackfoot Warrior gently squeezed his shoulder, Dazz feeling the skin and muscle in Whitecloud's grip softly moved by his touch.

Whitecloud: I know but like I said, I'm not sad that I left because I accomplished all that I needed. If you really have to honour something then honour yourself and all of my Brothers and Sisters by living your lifes the way you wish, succeeding in your goals and remaining happy.

Dazz: Yeah but I want to honour you in particular too, you deserve it. I was thinking like a tournament where everyone puts aside their differences for one night only to compete in matches just for the fun of competing and nothing more.

Whitecloud: That sounds great and I'll enjoy watching you in the finals.

Dazz: Thanks, I.........wait a second, what?!

Whitecloud: The only thing I'm willing to give away now is that you will face someone during the tournament that will be almost like a yin to your yang. Somebody very similar in a lot of ways but also very different.

Dazz: Who?

Whitecloud: That is something that I can't say but this person will provide some of your greatest competition to date on more than one occasion, someone equally as charismatic, determined to win and athletically inclined as you are. Something major will be on the line at some point but that's all I'm allowed to say, I'm sorry.

Dazz nodded, watching as Whitecloud placed his second hand on the other shoulder, staring deep into his eyes with a gaze that, coming from others, might seem steely and cold but from The Blackfoot Warrior was one of pure love and hope.

Whitecloud: I have to go now but promise me something.

Dazz: Of course, anything.

Whitecloud: Promise me that you'll move on, not to mourn me because I'll still be around, all you have to do is picture me and I'll be there.

Dazz: I'll try.

Whitecloud: No, don't try, I know you're capable, the only person I worry about is your Nephew, make sure Eric is ok and let him know that I'll always cheer him on throughout his many successes, not just in the ring but in life. I love each and every one of you.

Dazz: We l....

Whitecloud immediately raising a hand up, causing Dazz to pause while a smile yet again appeared across his friend's face.

Whitecloud: I know you do. All of you.

Stepping away from the Silent Warrior, Whitecloud watched as he nodded and turned his head, not allowing him to see another tear forming, Dazz catching it with his finger then looking up again to find that The Blackfoot Warrior was now gone, disappeared from sight. A part of him felt that sadness returning but for the most part, he felt at ease with himself, knowing he was being willed on by his recently departed friend to do his best and try to attain his goals, succeed where he might normally fail. All sorts of thoughts ran throughout his mind. What exactly would he achieve under the Delfino persona; would the idea of a one night only event and a tournament really be well received; who was this other side to the coin that he'd apparently meet several times in competiton with high stakes during one such contest?

Without warning, the feeling of air rushing towards him became apparent, hitting his body as if he were stood in a wind tunnel or plummeting from the heavens, no cold blasts of air upon his skin though, just a dizzying sense of movement despite his standing completely still. His stomach began to churn and almost spin around, lurching up and down like he were on a rollercoaster while his head became fuzzy, clouded through this impairment of thought and movement due to the overwhelming sense of falling. He couldn't feel his limbs flailing, couldn't feel his loose fitting clothing or the mask he still grasped in his hand moving about as they would during a breeze as strong and hurricane-like as this, whipping against his body like clothing normally would even at the top of a tall building or mountain. Even so, he still had an unbearable feeling that he was about to collide with the ground below, bracing himself for the impact that would surely break his body into a million pieces and leave him lifeless........but rather than hit the ground he instead opened his eyes wide, staring ahead and spotting those candles still burning in front of him, some of the wax having melted during this conversation he'd held. He was still sat cross legged on the cushion in the centre of the room, exactly where he was as he drifted off into his meditation, mask still firmly surrounding his skull in a way that kept it from slipping and obscuring his vision or breathing but was still not exactly too tight to find himself unable to move without feeling trapped and claustrophobic.His meditations had taken him on spiritual journeys before but was that a real conversation with Whitecloud or was it his inner self coming to terms and fabricating the entire thing? He had no idea as he reached forwards, swiping his hand over the flames to extinguish the candles with the same force that he'd felt before awakening from his soul searching slumber.....

******



I walk the line, the line I choose
I see the people in front of me
I climb the wall, the wall of news
I watch them show the tragedy

If you were me could you defend
The given right to all of man
Let's fuck the world with all its trend
They say it's all about to end

They say it's all about to end
They say, they say

There's a prison that's gone
But the fear lives on
I watch you walking on the dotted line
Maybe you don't see what's in front of me
Maybe you won't stand the test of time

For we live in sin, for we will win
I watch the President kiss his family
For we live in sin, for we will win
I watch the President fuck society

If you were me could you defend
The given right to all of man
Lets fuck the world with all its trend
They say it's all about to end

They say it's all about to end
They say, they say

I fall in love with the old times
And never mention my own mind
Lets fuck the world with all its trend
Thank God it's all about to end

They say it's all about to end
They say, they say
They say, they say
They say it's all about to end

They Say - Scars On Broadway



******

April 21st 2008 - 2:01pm

It had been something to behold, him as the General Manager and not wishing to get inside the ring for active competition himself but deciding it was a good enough cause to be involved in. Months earlier a friend and colleague had passed away, shocking everybody that knew him and causing such grief that nobody felt the same for along time after despite going by the old adage that "the show must go on". It felt and looked like everyone was just going through the motions, zombies unsure what to do and only their natural instincts between the ropes helping to keep the action going for the sake of the company and indeed their own sanity. He'd remembered how well respected this man was, his good nature shining through and lifting everybody's spirits, giving everyone who accepted him as a friend and someone to turn to a reason to keep on the brighter side of life and continue doing what they enjoyed doing for the benefit of the fans who paid to watch them perform solid, high octane matches.

The only way he could think to remember such an important person was to honour him in a way that not only fit in with the tradition of what they did for a living as professional wrestlers and athletes but also gave a nod to the man himself and the values he taught others throughout his life and career, that no matter the outcome and no matter the opponent, all f it should be treated with more than an ounce of respect and honour, civility an important teaching of his to help those who went to him for advice when they thought they'd lost their way and needed a nudge towards the right direction, clear their heads and find their judgment unclouded. This certainly helped inside the ring because those who knew what it was like to compete knew that if your head was foggy and full of doubts and worries, you'd be left standing and watching others pass you by.

Reactions to the idea were favourable and he felt proud that he could have created such a thing to give thanks, respect and bestow the honour of still competing for his memory upon not just MCW but the entire industry. A tournament was to be held with the very best in the company waging war between the ropes not for glory or championship gold but to pay respect to a great man. An opportunity like this wouldn't come every day so of course he had to be a part of it, especially since it would be the first of what he hoped to be an annual event, testing his skills against whoever he found himself randomly paired up against. The opening bout of the tournament was the first of a series of triple threat matches, the GM finding himself against Seth Cage and Kirsta Lewis in a battle which saw his victory over the two full time MCW competitors, moving to the next round where it would be singles competition before the final. It was here that he beat then-up and coming talent Angelica Jones to find himself in the finals of the tournament, which would take place at the event he also created in memory of Whitecloud, a ppv he'd named Dedication.

His mind was racked in nerves and trepidation anyway wondering just how the event would be received within not just the wrestling community but also the close circle of friends and family that Whitecloud kept, especially how his son Eric Sailes would take to such a huge tribute to the father he loved dearly. There was also the fact that Ash Bombay had been removed from the finals to take on Jacob Laymon after the boss found that it was Ash causing damage to property, changing the main event from a triple threat to just a one on one encounter between the remaining finalists: Dazz and Rayne Young.

He'd obviously known Rayne on and off for a few years, not feeling particularly close to him like others were but the two had conversations and shared jokes and business matters, first in Rayne's short lived attempt to work for CWF and then again when Dazz came on board as MCW opened its doors, working with Rayne not only as staff and talent but also as people sharing a position of power when Rayne got promoted to helping out behind the scenes. Everyone knew about Rayne's reputation as someone who wasn't afraid to speak his mind, about the fact he was such a talented person between the ropes and was clearly seen as one of the best to lace a pair of boots. This weighed on his mind also, the first time he'd ever had to step into the ring against the Enigma of professional wrestling, not knowing exactly what could happen or what he'd be up against. Of course studying his matches and being able to watch from his office during live Mayhem shows helped matters but watching what Rayne did inside the ring and coming up against it for himself, experiencing the sort of onslaught Rayne was capable of, that's what terrified him most. Not a kind of fear of the man himself, more of a fear that being against someone of the Enigma's calibre for the first time ever in the main event of such a huge and special event might make him choke, fall at the last hurdle and undo all the hard work he'd put in not just promoting the tournament and the event but also training for this moment, defeating tough opponents to reach this stage of the game. He didn't want people to watch looking forward to a Match of the Year candidate and then see him fall apart for no reason at all and have Rayne Young walk all over him and dominate the entire contest like he was toying with him.

Now here he was sitting in the driver's seat of his rented car, all kinds of thoughts running through his head, trying to plot his next move even though deep down he knew that the first thing he should do is to exit the car and find his locker room. The weird thing was that for some reason he seemed completely incapable of movement, no reason at all, he didn't know what was happening but even trying to force his arm to move via his brain waves and forceful thinking, nothing happened. He'd been sitting so still for so long that even though he could see his arms rested against his thighs near the steering wheel, he couldn't actually feel them, almost as if the limbs were phantoms and he had nothing attached to his shoulder joints. It was as if he was just a hollow shell placed there where all he could do was think, look, listen and breathe, nothing else possible for him to achieve no matter how hard he tried. Was it that he was somehow so frightened of how tonight may turn out that he was literally frozen to the spot, finding out for himself exactly what that phrase meant and that it might be true? Was it that all the hard work and effort he'd thrown himself into in recent times both in MCW and elsewhere was now affecting him, not just the constant training and physical preparation for this tournament but also the mental gymnastics and constant need to think on his feet as MCW's General Manager where organising such an event, promoting it, helping book the rest of the card, making sure talent could actually be there to compete, all of the usual tasks associated with such a role, all of that combining to make his body lock up and not desire any kind of movement whatsoever?

Maybe even it was the fault of an over rigorous exercise regime that he didn't feel at the time but had now made his entire body seize up without the agony that usually comes with it, his high tolerance for pain not allowing him the comfort of knowing if he might be hurt and unable to even walk let alone compete? He didn't know the answer to any of those questions but he had to at least try, whether he was in a pain he wasn't aware of or the night had an overbearing and nerve wracking hold over him or whatever else it may be. Slowly but surely, his brain sent down the message to his arms to move, finding that his fingers were the first to respond in kind by lifting up off his thighs, bending gently as the rest of his arms raised up onto the steering wheel. At least he now knew he hadn't turned to stone after parking this vehicle but he needed to take those baby steps to even get out of it. Turning his head, he stared at the door handle, reaching and pulling it towards him as the clicking that came after allowed him to know it was working properly and not one of those dodgy rental cars that wrestlers sometimes find themselves with while on the road.

With the driver side door pushed open and his ability to move again now in full effect, Dazz put a plan into action, nothing too complicated until he was used to being anything other than static, reaching forwards to remove the keys from the ignition then popping the trunk open with the push of a button, raising first his left leg up and out of the car before planting his foot on the solid concrete beneath, swinging the right leg to be next to it before gently easing himself fully out of the car. A gentle sigh of relief escaped his lungs as he stood upright, stretching his back slightly and hearing the gentle cracking of his spine. Another sigh was followed by him slamming the door shut and walking around to the back of the car, still nervous about tonight's match, going to the trunk and removing a small black suitcase, placing it on the ground and pulling the long handle up to its highest then taking a black briefcase, slamming the trunk closed and setting the alarm on the car after locking it up before gripping the handle of the suitcase and dragging it with one hand while hauling the briefcase in his left hand.

It was time to go, time to delve deep into this building and find the sanctity of his appointed locker room or office, whichever of the two he was granted by Jacob Laymon for the night, completely unsure which he'd have since he had to fulfill his General Manager duties as usual but was also competing in the main event and obviously needed to shower and prepare himself before and after the match. There wasn't even a moment for him to try and guess where he'd be located tonight, not caring in the slightest and instead being completely engrossed in his mixed emotions of how Dedication might go. Beginning his seemingly long trek into the building, he couldn't help wondering if maybe he'd called ahead, asked someone to post a note on the MCW notice board informing the men and women of the roster not to bother him as he made his way deep into the arena because of the sheer nervousness he was going through at this moment, wishing not to be disturbed while he had other things on his mind and needed time alone in his room to clear his head before the show could begin and welcome anyone backstage to speak to him if they so wished.

Luckily he didn't see anybody else around save for the same officials and stagehands that turned up earlier than everybody else to set up the stage and ringside area, to test everything such as the PA system, pyrotechnics, lighting and ensure that things ran smoothly before the fans were allowed inside the building. He'd even spotted groups of fans waiting outside the arena early, possibly the excitement of what tonight may hold too much to bear and had to be there sooner rather than waiting, perhaps a mix of impatience and wanting to see the stars arriving for photo opportunities or the chance to have some piece of merchandise or a ticket or anything else to hand signed. His own footsteps and the gentle rumbling of the wheels on his suitcase rolling across the floor almost drowning out the noises coming from the chatter and the clanking and banging of a wrestling show being set up. His surroundings took on a slightly dark, almost grey tinge due to the sunglasses he was wearing to cover his eyes, colours seemingly melting together to create a subdued and sparse atmosphere, the sort of visual that would accompany a Tim Burton movie. Walking past a handful of technicians deep in conversation about the portable lighting rig and where to place them for the official interviews during the show, two men already hanging up the backdrop with the MCW Dedication logo all over it, he continued on, spotting a huge whiteboard resting in a prominent part of the backstage area for all to see upon arrival.

Approaching it he noticed the various names scrawled across in black pen, showing which matches would be taking place from the opening contest right up to the main event. His own name was written at the very bottom next to Rayne Young's, the Whitecloud Memorial Tournament finals seeming to be the very last match of the night, a time placed next to it to denote that they hoped to have around 10 minutes maximum left after the main event for what was written on the board to be "SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT/WHITECLOUD TRIBUTE". Knowing exactly what that meant, he wondered how it would be received and whether it would go off without a hitch or be thrown back in everybody's face, the only real planned moment of the main event being the aftermath due to the agreement that both himself and Rayne would go at it and see which one of them truly was better on such a huge and special night. Looking at the lower part of the board and spotting not only the pen used to write the names and times down but also a blank area underneath it all, he reached forwards, gripping the pen and removing the lid before pushing it against the board and writing on it himself, a message to everybody not to disturb him apart from a select few. He wouldn't normally have asked such a thing and always had an open door policy but tonight, he was lost in his thoughts and wished not to be disturbed as much as possible while he wrapped his brain around the implications this night had and the nerves he was suffering already.

Satisfied with the message, he replaced the lid and put the pen back down, glancing one more time then walking away from the board, spotted by a bald man slightly shorter and stockier than he was wearing jeans and an MCW CREW t-shirt complete with an earpiece and small microphone to communicate with various people around the arena. He stopped not far away from Dazz, causing him too to pause where he stood and look at this crew member, wondering what it was he wished to discuss, getting his answer moments later.

Crew Member: Excuse me but few things I need to go over with you if that's ok.

Dazz: Sure it is, hit me with it.

Crew Member: Ok, well first of all I've been asked to let you know you have a private locker room tonight situated just down this hall, turn left, follow it around then it's the second door on the right.

Dazz: Ok, cool. Thanks.

Crew Member: Also your duties for tonight are being handled by Jacob Laymon's assistant uner strict orders so you only have to worry about your own match and the announcement after.

That was a relief and it answered the question he'd had all morning wondering exactly why Laymon had called and asked him to try to get his papers faxed over to him despite the fact Jacob himself was also unavailable due to his own No Holds Barred match against Ash Bombay.

Crew Member: Oh and before you go, your t-shirt has been placed in the room already, our seamstress cut the sleeves off for you and those front row tickets for your family are waiting in the box office for them to collect.

Dazz: Thanks again. Just quickly, if any of them wanna come backstage security will let them pass right?

Crew Member: Yeah, they have special authorisation to come backstage and I'll be here personally to escort them to your room if needed.

Dazz nodded and began to walk away down the hall, wondering which of his family would be most likely to come backstage should they wish. Obviously his girlfriend Faith might but then she was bringing RJ to the show and would probably want to get to their seats and settle down rather than go backstage first. Especially knowing he'd much prefer to focus on such a huge night, such a huge match rather than be bothered, at least until after Dedication had ended. The only other members of his family he could recall saying they'd definitely be there were his younger brother Kid Chaos and the extended members of his family he'd only discovered were relatives the April before, his older half brothers Jason Stylez and "New Age Degenerate" Cody Stylez along with their wives and kids. Before he realised, he was turning left and walking down a long corridor, a distinct lack of activity here at the moment but knowing that would soon change within hours, taking note of each blue door standing out from the paler blue of the concrete walls, names attached to each door such as Annie Alvarez, Greg Venom, Angelica Jones and Midas amongst others, some making their debut, others not too far away from their own MCW debut while still others were longtime members of the MCW locker room.

He found himself at the end of the hall, having followed it's gentle curving to get to a quieter area of the building, his door being the second on the right as predicted, walking towards it and standing at the doorway with his hand ready to push it open when he noticed another door nearby, the only other room with a name on it. What a massive coincidence, it happened to be Rayne Young's room for tonight. Leaving his bags outside his own door, he strode over to Rayne's and knocked, waiting for a reply but finding none, another knock and a pause before slowly opening the door, finding it empty save for an elegant looking white head dress similar to one which Whitecloud himself used to wear. The two had chosen days before what they'd wear during their entrance to honour the man himself and Rayne had picked the head dress, having one specially ordered not only to fit Rayne's head but also because wearing another man's ceremonial attire was deemed as disrespectful. He closed the door and went back to his own room, pushing the door open and taking his bags inside, closing the door behind him as he looked at the white walls and light blue carpet, wooden bench with rails to hang up clothing and compartments to put shoes, championship belts or whatever else high above the floor. An open and white tiled area to the right at the back of the room led to the shower while, as mentioned by the crew member, a black piece of clothing was left folded on the bench.

He immediately sat down and removed his footwear, a pair of black and white Converse that he sometimes wore for comfort when not wearing huge black work boots, untying the laces as he began to think about what this night, this tournament final meant to him, to Rayne, to everybody. Not only was this night for Whitecloud - he'd even named the event Dedication due to the fact it was dedicated to The Blackfoot Warrior - but it was also the first time he'd ever set foot in the ring with Rayne Young. He'd wanted to for a long time and almost came close in the past but now it was finally happening, an overwhelming sense of nervousness wondering what could be in store for him. It wasn't as if they'd grown up in the business together or he was taking on someone he'd faced when Rayne was a rookie, this was different. It was the same as the times he'd first stood across the opposite side of the ring to the likes of his half brother Jason, Ethan Andrews, Rob Thorn, Eddie September, The X-Ecutioner and others that were already veterans when he began his career.

His shoes now removed, he preceded to do the same with his socks, changing into a pair of white sports socks to be worn under his wrestling boots, pulling them up to midway around his shins and just under his well defined calves. He rose from the bench, unbuttoning his jeans and thinking ahead to what he and Rayne might do in their first match against each other. Would it be an epic technical showcase? A submission specialist's dream? An all out brawl? He honestly didn't know and that's what scared him a little, the unknowing aspect. They'd agreed beforehand to let it all out in the ring and basically make it more of a shoot but how would they react to one another, would they mesh well? They were both showmen, no doubt about it but would egos clash and one of them get upset over a mistimed attack, would it end with one starting something that would descend into violence with the goal being not a win for the trophy and the memory of Whitecloud but taking each other out, trying to cripple one another inside the ring until only one of them walked away and the other was taken out in a body bag? He released a sigh, already tugging his loose leather trousers up over the black knee pads he'd pulled onto his legs during his deep thought, buttoning them and then fastening the waist. The next step was to find his athletic tape and put that on, reaching to his suitcase that was now open and half empty, finding the roll of white taping and stretching it out after finding an end, placing the very tip on his wrist and wrapping it tightly around his lower limb, over and over until his wrists were completely covered.

Leaning back against the wall, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Whitecloud was looking down on him as he said he would when he saw him in that meditative vision months earlier. There was no need to wonder whether he'd enjoy this night or not because having known Whitecloud, he knew he'd love this sort of thing anyway but being told face to face he enjoyed the idea of a tournament and a night where rivalries didn't matter was at least heartening. A sigh escaped him as he moved forwards to slide his feet into his black wrestling boots, slightly modified with the letters WC in white on each side to stand for the great man's name along with slight tassles to match the sort Whitecloud had on his boots when he competed. It didn't matter whether people would get to see these or not while he took on Rayne, all he knew was that he was more worried with the night being well received as a great tribute to a much missed friend and co-worker than whether or not the nitpickers watching would notice tassles and letters on his boots. It didn't take him long to tie the laces on the boots, before he new it he was pulling the slightly padded front over and fastening them to cover the strings, finally being ready to compete even though his match was hours away, not ready yet mentally to do anything but sit and worry how Dedication will go, how his first ever match against Rayne Young would happen, what he might do inside the ring. Swinging his body around, he lay flat on his back on the bench, looking up at the ceiling of the room. Only a few more hours to go.......

******

April 21st 2008 - 11:12pm

Sitting in the locker room soaked in sweat and feeling not only exhausted but also aching all over, he couldn't help but stare at this huge trophy before him, stood tall from the floor and towering over him. It certainly was extravagant as Laymon had discussed before when they spoke to the company that were contracted to create this object. It was made of a wood and gold base with a plaque stating the name of the tournament, the name of the event and today's date and followed by his name underneath it all. Black pieces were also embellished on the base, perhaps some kind of marble or something he didn't quite know at this time. Whitecloud's face was also set in the trophy in full native regalia while the rest of the trophy seemed to be a golden extravagance almost like a fountain of the precious metal rising up in all its magnificent glory and splendour. The disbelief was still there, not quite knowing how he'd managed to win this thing but glad that he did, a testament to his ability but also knowing that without Rayne Young, the battle wouldn't have been half as entertaining or worthwhile, two men who knew Whitecloud going head to head and face to face to make the great man proud.

Before he could even catch his breath, the door opened and he looked up to see Rayne himself walking in with a massive grin on his face, just wearing his white boots and white sweat pants, holding an ice pack to his shoulder but looking pleased with himself anyway. Sweat also seemed to cover his skin, making it glisten in the light of the room as he stepped inside.

Rayne: Hey, just wanna say that match was amazing.

Dazz: Yeah I loved every minute of it, thought you'd got the win a few times.

Rayne: Yeah, well, had to be one of us and I'm glad it was you but like we both said earlier, it's not about wins and losses, it's about the guy upstairs watching over us.

Dazz: True, true.

He watched as his colleague stepped closer, tossing the ice pack onto the bench and lifting the trophy for a better look, whistling gently at the beauty of this thing before placing it back down and quickly grabbing for his ice again, a sigh meaning he was still feeling sore as he placed it against his skin again.

Rayne: Bloody hell, you really did a number on me, I mean look at you, not even affected.

Dazz: Oh trust me, I hurt all over, just too shocked and happy with the night to really notice that much.

Rayne: Lucky you. Haven't heard anyone thank people as many times as I have tonight, Doctor Ian's walking about with that World title contract pretty much thanking everyone he meets even if they didn't have a part in it, the silly sheep shagger.

The two chuckled, Rayne cracking jokes at the Welshman's expense as always. Doctor Ian had been a long time friend of Rayne's and tonight, the winner of the tournament got not just the trophy but a shot at the World Heavyweight championship any time they wished. Due to his position as General Manager and the fact he was competing more for Whitecloud than glory, he'd agreed to give up the shot if he won, Rayne having made the same agreement should he win and so they chose the best member of the roster to hand the shot over, settling on the talented Doctor Ian and quite clearly causing his constant gratefulness he was apparently displaying ever since.

Rayne: Listen.....tonight was amazing and if you ever wanna do this again I'd be welcome to do another match with you. Deal?

He extended his hand, Dazz staring at it before reciprocating, the two agreeing to this.

Dazz: Deal.

Rayne: Cool. Ok, I'll let you get changed, gotta do the same myself before my kid comes looking for me, talk to you later man.

He nodded then watched as Rayne turned and left the room, closing the door shut behind him, leaving the room for good, at least until next time should one of them get this same room for another show. The night had gone well and despite his fears and his worries about taking on Rayne for the very first time in history, he felt nothing but good vibes having found he had nothing to fear....

******



Need....more and more
Tainted misery
Bleed....battle scars
Chemical affinity

Reign....legacy
Innocence corrode
Stain....rot away
Catatonic overload

Choke....asphyxia
Snuff reality
Scorch....kill the light
Incinerate celebrity

Reaper....butchery
Karma amputee
Bloodline....redefine
Death contagious deity

Hooked into this deceiver
Need more and more
Into the endless fever
Need more and more

New consequence machine
You burn through all your gasoline
Asylum overtime
Nevermind...

You've reached the end of the line

Time....choke the clock
Steal another day
Die....faithfully
Narcissistic fade away

Twisted....jump the rail
Shatter the crowd below
Breaker....chase the ghost
From latest high to all time low

Hooked into this deceiver
Need more and more
Into the endless fever
Need more and more

New consequence machine
You burn through all your gasoline
Asylum overtime
Nevermind...

You've reached the end of the line

Drop the hourglass of time
Spilling sand, we will not find
As we gather here today
We bid farewell...

The slave becomes the master
The slave becomes the master
The slave becomes the master

The slave becomes the master
Need more and more
Right now and ever after
Need more and more

New consequence machine
Burn through all your gasoline
Asylum overtime
Nevermind...

Dead hourglass of time
Sand we will not ever find
We gather here today
Say goodbye

Cause you've reached the end of the line
The end of the line
The end of the line
You've reached the end of the line

The End Of The Line - Metallica



******

October 17th 2009 - 10:04pm

The scene opens up with a shot of a large gold trophy with elements of black and natural wood that has been polished to a shine, reflecting light from every surface of this magnificently crafted sculpture. As the camera slowly pans down it, we see the intricately worked gold and an image of Whitecloud's face at the top of the wooden base upon which most of the gold is resting. Further down, a golden plaque is shown with the following inscription:

Whitecloud Memorial Tournament winner
MCW Dedication
April 21st 2008
Dazz

The slow pan continues towards the left of the trophy, moving up at the same time diagonally until it comes to rest on a denim clad leg with a black boot at the bottom, the camera moving upwards to see the tautness of the denim around the knee of this person before a black t-shirt with the MCW All Hallow's Annihilation logo and an image of Rayne Young and Dazz both standing staring at one another becomes visible. Continuing its journey, the camera comes to a halt upon the chest, shoulders, neck and head of this person, long dark hair covering the shoulders, crafted sideburns visible jutting out from under the hair and coming to a point on his cheeks. His eyes were uncovered, peering at the camera looking as blue as ever while he remains emotionless briefly, this ending when he suddenly bursts into laughter for just a few seconds, leaning forwards in the chair and resting his forearms against his thighs as he looks into the camera.

Dazz: Well, well, well. Who'd have thought it huh? 3 months in and here I am, main eventing an MCW ppv event with the World Heavyweight championship on the line against a guy who's also known to be loyal to this company. I actually didn't know I'd reach this point so soon having been on hiatus from this business since early February and figured I'd be on a slow rise to the top earning my shots and beginning bottom of the heap while those who actually wrestled and competed here for much longer got their chances. That just shows the nature of Jacob Laymon, the nature of Motor City Wrestling and the nature of my own abilities because not only is this a place where opportunities are given to those seen as hard working and talented but I grabbed each shot with both hands and ran with it. While in other places I was seen as a legend, a Hall of Fame inductee put there by the management and fans of that particular company and held every championship possible apart from those out of my gender and retired titles, at the same time the same company also held back my talents and blocked me from getting anywhere, telling me to start from the bottom of the ladder after just two months away with an injury while those who were away longer through their own choice but were seen as the gods of the company were allowed to waltz in and get the main belt handed to them in their first match back.

This wasn't right and of course, after years of putting up with that bullshit I felt disillusioned with professional wrestling as a whole and wanted to walk away forever. Willing to pack it all in and leave behind something I felt dedication my entire life towards, put it all down to bad experiences and unhappy memories thanks to a small group of people who were in this industry for nothing but their own personal gain, working for management who were too busy giving in to arrogance and more concerned with stroking the egos of those who wanted it all rather than helping to nurture the talents and abilities of those who wanted to work for it all. That's why despite having it all in the palm of my hand, I still felt like everything I'd done for that company was all for nothing, everything gained and accomplished for myself and for the company had been just a big waste of time.

Comes to something when I had to relegate myself to working double duty, first as myself in a desperate attempt to see if they'd actually notice the fact I was their main foundation, their cornerstone that kept them alive for so many years and failing to get anywhere while I hid under a mask, bringing out the lucha style of my younger days as Delfino to throw everybody off, watching and secretly shaking my head in embarrassment at the fact that everybody had disdain for me openly and mocked my career and achievements while also praising this "young rookie Delfino for being so damn awesome". Typical. Use my talents and God given ability to try to main event but I'm only used as fodder for the lesser men who need their ego fed with constant unnecessary victories over much more talented athletes yet under the mask I'm allowed to test my limits, beating name after name in tournaments until finding myself in the main even of their biggest pay per view of the year, defeating their so called "big star" for the Undisputed title cleanly, having him walk up to me full of congratulations until the night I unmasked and suddenly he does an about face and goes back to ridiculing me and what I can do inside that ring.

Ironic that I was simultaneously the Television, American and Undisputed champion at the same time, vacated the belts and left the company and the professional wrestling industry and suddenly that company becomes dead and lifeless, struggling on and on a shadow of its former self in the glory days when I was the top of the food chain. Just shows that without me they can't survive, unlike MCW where here everybody is equal, everybody is given opportunity after opportunity to prove their worth and get their moment in the sun.

Take for example the fact that here I am, 3 months after I made my return to MCW, 3 months after my return came as I began to work for this company as an active in ring competitor for the first time in its history and I'm main eventing All Hallow's Annihilation in a World Heavyweight title match against Rayne Young. How did I get here exactly? By proving myself to the bosses like I do every time I set foot in a ring, not letting myself become complacent or rely on what I did in the past, earning my way to the Charged Chamber and then defeating other top level talents to be named as the number one contender. That is how you do things in this business, that's how you earn your way through to championship gold and legendary status and that's why right now I couldn't be happier working for someone like Jacob Laymon. He knows exactly what it takes to run a successful and fair company and that's why most of the biggest names and most worthy up and coming stars sit time and again in the locker room during Mayhem, watching on the monitors to see how it's done, brush up on what others are doing right or wrong and purely to encourage each other. There's no little groups of cliques sitting around ignoring people and only cheering for their own friends and lackeys.

Which brings me neatly onto you Rayne. You see, while most would sit dissecting everything about you, taking apart your very essence in a show of ignorance and over confidence, I know better than that. While our actions at the last Mayhem may not show it, you know as well as I do that there's a respect deep down for each other. We've faced each other twice in the past, me beating you in the finals of the first ever Whitecloud Memorial Tournament with a World Heavyweight title shot and a huge trophy as the prize. Second time, it was a draw thanks to Priest's interference when I took you on with your World title on the line in the main event of Mayhem just weeks after my return to MCW. Now.....well now is where things get a little interesting because this time this isn't for a great friend's honour and memory, this is for pride, this is for our own peace of mind regarding our careers and this is for the World Heavyweight championship.

Just think about that for a moment, let it all sink in.

Reaching out of shot, he grabs at something and brings it out in front of the camera, a half empty bottle of water that has the cap unscrewed and removed before the neck is placed against his lips and the contents spilled out into his mouth, taking a cool drink before replacing the cap and leaning again to place the bottle back where it was. Shifting in his seat, Dazz gets comfortable again and looks at the camera.

Dazz: All Hallow's Annihilation. A big night for both of us. On one hand it's a huge night for me, working my ass off night after night, week after week just to prove I was good enough to be considered for a contender slot then fighting off some tough competition to earn the right to face you one on one for the title. Now taking you on for that belt will help me establish myself as one of MCW's elite athletes, make my mark in this company as someone reliable and worthy of spending their hard earned money on to buy tickets to the amazing shows this company puts on for those people who tune in and fill arenas worldwide, who buy the merchandise and wear it with pride wherever they go, who get involved in the ups and downs of their favourite wrestlers over their careers. It's for those people that I want to make this worthwhile, that I want to step up and show everybody just what I can be capable of instead of sitting back and predicting an inevitable victory that might never come.

See, the difference between me and your other World title opponents Rayne is that while they promised to kick your ass all over Detroit, promised to destroy you and leave you a broken heap in the middle of the ring then failed to do that, I on the other hand am gonna just sit here and tell you that what I'm looking forward to most isn't me having my hand raised, being awarded the title, declared the winner. No no no, none of that can be predicted so easily, instead I'm just looking forward to the challenge, the challenge of facing you in what could be your biggest moment in your entire career. This is supposed to be your big moment to shine, your last chance to entertain before you walk away from it all win or lose so clearly in your swansong you'll be battling like never before to end your professional life as an in ring performer on a high, leaving the fans with something to remember as your final moment of MCW glory.

This is such an unpredictable match that not even Nostradamus himself could think of a quatrain that could properly describe the epic war we'll wage and Joe Louis' estate will happily step aside and allow the building to be renamed in our honour, The Enigmatic Messiah Arena perhaps? Hell I wouldn't be surprised if Joe Louis and his achievement of being named the greatest heavyweight boxer of all time was matched by us sharing the same honour in the world of professional wrestling. Clearly we both have what it takes to make a massive impact and show everybody just what a true heated contest should be all about, especially since we've spent so many years damn well proving that we belong in the main events of any company we work for, that we are World title competitors that deserve to be named amongst the very best this business has ever seen.

But the thing is this. Right now I realise what has been plaguing me for almost 2 years. Mere weeks after Whitecloud's death I saw him, spoke to him and was informed that I'd find someone that was different yet similar to me in several ways, that we'd have encounters the likes of which we'd never had before. In a strange sort of moment of clarity, I honestly believe that person is you Rayne.

Think about it, we're different in a variety of ways, you being English, me being Canadian born and bred. You listening to hip hop, me with rock and metal. You have kids, I don't. But then the similarities.....both charismatic, both controversial, both of us are athletic, powerful and have the stamina and high pain threshold that is unbecoming to others who look like us, like regular guys. We've both held multiple World championships amongst many other titles we've held. We're seen as icons, legends in this industry, men who started out as young rookies and quickly rose to became battle-tested veterans throughout the years putting on some of the greatest matches ever witnessed, some of the greatest moments that ever happened have involved at least one of us smack bang in the middle, in the epicentre of the action.

Another big similarity is that you are feeling as though this will be your final match ever, your last before retirement because you just can't go on any longer. I felt exactly that myself near the start of this year, defending an Undisputed championship successfully then calling it a day not too long after, vacating every single championship I had and walking away, never looking back, no regrets whatsoever. As far as I knew, I was done with professional wrestling, free to stay at home and do whatever the hell I liked and not have to live up to the pressures, the expectations, not having to soldier on even though my focus and enjoyment had already waned and disappeared long before. I couldn't go on feeling like I was just going through the motions, not wanting to upset my fans or disappoint those who paid money to be entertained only to be forced to watch someone half assing their performance, not giving it their all and making a mockery of this great sport. I imagine that's exactly what you might be going through right now because to announce you'll leave this business takes a lot of thinking and a lot of guts to know whether or not it's gonna be the right thing for you to do.

After all these years tearing it up throughout various companies, after all this time in MCW proving you were one of the best this place has ever seen and you're willing to give all of that up, sit at home and watch MCW's history continue to unfold on your television screen without a tiny shred of doubt in your decision, without wishing you hadn't been so hasty to leave, wishing you could still be in that ring night after night against the very best in the world? If that's truly the case Rayne then let me be the first to not only congratulate you on coming to such a huge conclusion but also to let you know that I'll do everything I can to ensure your final match is something you'll look back on with some fondness and tell everyone that yep, that was the greatest match you ever had. Which is another similarity between us, the fact we both try not to disappoint, rising up to the occasion in big match scenarios like no one else and feeling absolutely determined that wherever on the card we're placed, we'll guarantee to steal the show each and every time. Lucky for us though we have one final similarity, one that means we already have every eye in the world aimed squarely at us before the event has even taken place. The very fact that we are in the main event of All Hallow's Annihilation, battling for the World Heavyweight championship in a winner take all situation. Two of us will walk in, one will walk out as the champion but regardless of winners and losers, we're guaranteed that one of us will walk away forever. When I heard your announcement before the Charged Chamber I was even more determined than ever to win, not just to get my hands on my first taste of MCW gold but to be the man to take you on in your final match before you take a step back for good. We always said we'd have to dance again and right now I can't think of a better situation for us to do this in. This hasn't been said before to you by your previous opponents and as crazy as this might sound but the best of luck to ya, I think we're both gonna need it.

He sits back in the chair, giving a half smile to the camera before it, like Rayne Young's career after All Hallow's Annihilation, fades to black.

The End