The Long Road Begins Here

Perilous and yet life changing all at the same time, that's what people told him this would be. They weren't wrong either, this was an uphill struggle in every sense of the term, his body aching all over and feeling pain through every inch of him, beginning in his feet and rising up to the very top of his cranium like a thermometer of agony. There was a part of him wondering why on earth he agreed to do this, why he figured it would be a fun thing to do when the pain wracked throughout his entire body was more than enough to wish he could go back in time and take all this back, decide on a different task to perform instead that would be less painful, less traumatising such as maybe learning to cross stitch or listen to a particularly IQ destroying CD by the likes of Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus. That would be perhaps a lot less strenuous than his current situation, slightly more appealing even if the mere thought of those other options made him feel sick to his stomach.

Instead there he was sitting hunched in front of a roaring open fire, feeling its warmth as he huddled closer in warm clothing, a thick material used to prevent him from freezing from the inside and suffering from hypothermia. His vision was somewhat blurred by the plastic goggles protecting his eyes from the cold and the wind surrounding him, torso covered by a thick blue jacket that looked sort of like a sleeping bag to keep him warm, likewise he wore a pair of pants that were black to attract any heat that may be around and warm his legs whilst also preventing the biting cold from affecting his too much. Nevertheless, he was still shivering and trying his best to sit as close to the fire as possible for heat without actually allowing any part of himself or his clothing to accidentally set alight. The thick furry boots on his feet gave a protection from the elements as well as having small spikes on the soles to aid in keeping his footing so that he wouldn't slip and potentially fall down.

Looking up and staring over the fire, he looked out to see a stony ground stretching out maybe a hundred yards followed by a blanket of white slightly below that spread out as far as the eye could see. His body ached from the journey here, wondering how on earth he'd managed to get here, glad he'd surpassed expectations placed upon him by not only himself but others but then at the same time, a duality of thinking invaded his head. On one hand he wished to continue, to prove his point and see what could be awaiting him at the end of his self imposed task while on the other, part of him wished to climb down and give it all up immediately, get back to the safety and relative peace and comfort of home.

Thinking back to how he'd got here and reached this place, he remembered his initial thoughts and hopes, wishing to climb a mountain to prove he still had some worth and something more to give to the world at large. People had put him down and written him off as somehow past his prime, others had even had the audacity to state that he never really had a prime to begin with and was just something meaningless as if anything he'd achieved throughout his life thus far were either a total fluke or something not worth even thinking about. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd attempted to show his talents and abilities only to see them ignored and pushed aside like rubbish to make way for people who truly didn't belong in the positions they occupied, didn't deserve any of the awe they received. This disillusionment had paid a heavy toll on him and while he'd most recently had people applauding what he was capable of and stating that he was indeed truly a great, a smidgen of his mind disagreed and decided that he had to do something to truly impress, to truly give himself something worth the praise and attention.

That was why he'd decided to climb the highest mountain in the world, reach its peak and stake his claim for his own sanity, allowing his talents to shine through and be known in the history books forever. Now here he was sitting almost at the top with a blue tent behind him full of his equipment, awaiting his next venture inside whenever he decided to move away from the open fire he'd created for warmth and light, not that he needed the latter any more since it looked to be the morning and the sun shining bright even if it didn't provide the warmth he needed. Having no more need for the fire, he grabbed a small canister of water, unscrewing the top and taking hold of an old white sheet he had next to him, soaking the sheet with the liquid before tossing it directly on top of the flames and rising to his feet, stamping down upon the sheet to extinguish the fire. He sighed gently then turned to the tent, reaching inside to grab at his bag, placing it on his back and taking hold of the pick axe and rope before leaving the now empty tent where it stands, ready for his descent when he needs to sleep somewhere as he makes his way down towards terra firma far below.

He slammed the axe into the side of the rock face and began to climb once more, using every ounce of strength within him to lift himself up off the ledge he'd occupied for the night, his feet leaving the ground as he once again began his slow and arduous ascent up the side of the mountain. Thoughts ran throughout as he climbed, trying to ignore his physical activity so that it would pass by quicker and he'd find himself at the summit a lot more quickly than if he concentrated on what he was doing, maybe finding that he'd be too busy and drained if he focused on slamming the axe into the side of the mountain, finding a place to put his foot then lifting himself a little higher, doing the same for the other side of his body and repeating the same thing over and over, a boring task which required him to try to focus on other things. Before he knew it, there he was only feet away from the final ledge, nothing else above it although there was the potential that there could be a surprise extra piece to climb. He certainly hoped not because there was an agonising pain surging through his body already from all the climbing and he just wished to get to the top, see what sights he could find up there then get back down and take the time to rest from all this climbing while soaking up the praise for managing to climb this tall and dagnerous peak.

With one last haul, using every ounce of strength still within him, he managed to drag himself up over the ledge and onto the almost flat surface of the summit, crawling on hands and knees to get away from the edge then rolling slowly onto his back, looking up at the heavens above and sighing in not only relief but pleasure that he'd done it, he'd finally reached the top and could rest easy for as long as he possibly could before the need to build a new fire would arrive. For the moment though he just wished to relax his aching body from the stresses and strains of the climb, trying not to move a muscle in the hope the pain searing through him, coursing all over every single part of his body would disappear forever and allow him to just admire the stunning views he might have if he were able to get up and take a look around. His vision was confronted with nothing but the brightest of blues, too high up to have clouds above him obstructing his view of the sky, the emptiness and blank canvas of the Earth's upper atmosphere creating a surreal serenity, an eerie calm and peace that washed over him.

Get up onto your feet.

The noise had surprised him, a booming voice that seemed to echo in his ears even if there was nothing to bounce the sound from in this area of solitude. Could it have been a figment of his imagination created from the high altitude and thin air affecting his brain? Perhaps even the voice of God talking to him from high above, after all the summit of this mountain didn't seem too far away from the Heavenly realm so it didn't seem too implausible. The voice was commanding though, a powerful and booming voice that almost lifted him from the ground and brought him to his feet in an instant, suddenly finding himself standing mysteriously and staring at a man with long silver hair and a long beard that draped down over his chest, piercing eyes aimed directly at him. He wore a bright white tunic and golden sandals, a slight glow emanating from around him like a gold aura, giving the impression this strange fellow might somehow actually be from the higher realm above. Without meaning to seem disrespectful to this figure, he couldn't help but stare in amazement, wondering who he was, how he managed to get up here and how it was possible to wear so little and thin clothing without feeling the cold. In fact even he didn't feel the cold any more and it felt odd that this warmth came from the old man.

Strange as it may seem, a kind of unusual familiarity rang through the air, encasing both himself and this odd man in a shroud of calm, a soothing atmosphere cloaking the pair in the kind of warmth and comfort that might be found in a cosy home surrounded by close friends and family as they sat around a fire enjoying their time together as a unit. That was exactly what it felt like right now even though he had absolutely no idea who this old man was nor what he wanted with him. There was a tiny part of him that felt as though somehow he should know this person, that annoyance felt when confronted with someone that deep down you know who the person is but can't quite put a name to the face, struggling to place it and getting no help whatsoever. The old man certainly gave no hints, no chance to figure out this conundrum, only standing there with that continuous stare, unflinching, unmoving. After the silent staredown between the two, the old man finally spoke once more with that powerful and commandeering voice.

You finally made it here.

Huh?

The sound just blurted out from his mouth, tumbling out as a split second reaction to the comment he'd heard from this strange and mysterious old man. He had the feeling that the old man might take offense, berate him for his completely dumbstruck response but instead he just continued to keep his eyes focused totally onto him, not caring in the slightest that this young man had climbed a mountain and could therefore not comprehend who this person was or what he meant by "finally making it here", wherever "here" was. Did it mean he'd been waiting atop this mountain for his imminent arrival at the summit, the very peak of this tall natural creation or was he indeed in Heaven itself, perhaps having fallen or frozen to death with no recollection to that event and that the rest of the climb had been solely spiritual in nature? There was no real way of knowing the answer so he continued to look at this figure, waiting to see what he might say or do next and trying to put all sorts of questions running through his head at a hundred miles an hour to the very back of his subconscious so that he could be prepared for any further statement, understand what's being said more easily.

You've spent an arduous time lately going from the very lands far below to climb all this way up the mightiest mountain known to mankind. Many have attempted over time but not many have been able to test themselves in the way you have, not many have faced the trials and tribulations that you have and seen their way through them with such fervour that you have shown.

He slowly moved closer, standing directly before him to inspect his face, legs seeming not to move but giving the impression the old man had glided toward him. He reached, grabbing at the protective goggles that had prevented this young man's eyes from the bitter cold and the forceful winds along the way as he ascended this mountain, watching as the climber blinked his eyelids and expected to feel the sharp pangs of cold upon him but instead felt only warmth and light. It felt as though the old man was smiling even if his face didn't move, not even a twitch.

Relax. Your eyes aren't feeling the bitter cold because it doesn't exist here. Likewise those warm clothes to protect you on the way up here will do no good here as this spot is unaffected by such trivial elements.

Where am I?

You mean to say you do not realise? My boy, you are at the top of the mountain.

I know that, I spent ages trying to climb it.

I see you do not acknowledge your achievements.

Achievements?

Of course you foolish child, being at this place means you have become the best in the entirety of the human race. Your presence is not merely luck, it is a testament to your talents and your hard work. Many wish they could make it here but you......you are exceptional indeed. The world is your oyster, your plaything and you are its master.

This made no sense. How could he be the master of the world just by climbing a mountain? Besides, it took elected politicians to truly run countries and not one person to govern the entire species, especially one who had done something like he had. Last he checked, Sir Edmund Hillary didn't gain the chance to become a President or a Prime Minister when he climbed Mount Everest.

It seems you are still none the wiser to your mighty accomplishment so let me inform you. Your being here represents the fact that you have defied the typical nature of humanity by succeeding where so many have failed. You have reached the top of the mountain and thus, your name and your reputation are sealed in time for history to observe for all eternity. You are the king, the ruler, the champion of all the world and that can only be achieved by climbing to the very summit of this mountain as you have done.

So who are you exactly?

Pay no mind to who I am just yet but know this. I will be around for some time to come and you will see me in very special circumstances such as this one. Whenever your life turns a corner into a major event, I will be there to observe and offer advice and guidance to help you understand your situation. For now though, enjoy your time as king of the mountain and I will see you at the next hurdle you overcome.

With that, the old man suddenly had a glow alla round him, the golden aura becoming larger and brighter, turning from a shimmering gold to a very bright white light that caused the younger observer to shield his eyes and turn away, looking down at the grey stone of the mountain and observing the lack of snow that had previously adorned and draped around the peak of the mountain on his way up it. When the brightness died down, he turned around but felt another moment of confusion when he noticed that the old man had completely disappeared as if he had vanished into thin air. This only added to the confusion of the presence of the man in the first place and why he had told him that reaching the summit meant he was the best in the world. And what did he mean by his comment that he would reappear again in future?

******

fight vb (pt fought) vi to engage in battle in war or in single combat; to strive, struggle (for). * vt to engage in or carry on a conflict with; to achieve (one's way) by fighting; to strive to overcome. * n fighting; a struggle or conflict of any kind; a boxing match.

Fight.

The very word conjures up images of people locked in battle, striving to be better than the other either for selfish reasons or because their lives depended on it. In some instances it was entirely necessary to help protect a piece of land or a people from an invading force hell bent on trying to take over or dominate a section of the world that they long to own for their own selfish reasons. When Adolf Hitler led the Nazi government of Germany into Poland to gain more territory for himself and his adopted people in 1939, the British took offense to the mere thought that somebody who could take a political party from being one for the people to one of the biggest culprits of prejudice in history, build an army around those ideals of creating a pure, Aryan race where only white skinned, fair haired and blue eyed Germanic people were allowed - despite the fact Hitler himself had dark hair and was Austrian rather than German - and then invade a country that had done nothing in provocation to warrant such actions and so declared war and began one of the biggest fights in history. In fact, it turned from the British, Russians and French joining forces to fight off the German army along with their allies the Italians under Mussolini into a global affair when the Japanese also joined Germany's side and then proceeded to bomb Pearl Harbour, making the Americans get into the war for retaliation almost 3 or 4 years after the war first began.

This was a fight of necessity to help keep the world as a demoratic union of nations rather than the dictatorship that Hitler envisioned with himself as supreme leader ruling over the planet with an iron fist and murdering innocents for his own sick cause. Other fights can be purely for selfish gains such as money or possessions, two bickering sides wanting something and being unafraid of using force to get what they want. Be it a vehicle or money or a home or even a person, there was no level to which a side would stop and wonder what the point was, desperate to be seen as the victor to such an extent that murder might even enter the equation if only to get one over on an opponent and get to win whatever is on the line. That was the kind of sick mindset that separated the vicious animals that didn't belong in anything of a competitive nature and those who were in it purely for the sport, to test their skills against others and see how they fare.

One such warrior was Dazz, a long haired athlete with extremely well defined and conditioned muscles, especially the most prominent ones on his chest and abdomen. He was a warrior of some virtue, having respect for opponents and trying not to seriously injure someone if he could help it, although it depended on how tough and how much of a beating they could take whether it took a single kick to hurt someone or several stiff shots. He was somebody who was diverse, a sort of a master of various techniques which enabled him to be able to dish out punishment as well as receive it thanks to his natural toughness and ability to withstand a beating. He'd seen many fights over the years, been involved in many more and had worked his way up through the ranks from young rookie wishing to test himself in the most honourable fashion he could manage until now, his veteran status affording him the luxury of gaining more money from bouts and having the experience to know how to react to any given situation, to counter most strikes and attacks that he could see in time to block.

Luckily for him, he'd never technically been alone throughout his "career" - technically he couldn't call it a career since the entire thing was actually an underground fighting ring which was clearly an illegal activity - due to the fact he'd always had one of his closer friends Tommy Chaos at his side. Tommy was somebody who had his own experiences in battle but had left that world behind long ago to support others, including Dazz. He acted as a sort of corner man and handler, being the one to collect the winnings after each fight and drive his fighting friend to the emergency room if necessary, otherwise take him home due to him preferring to rest as much as possible after a fight whether he was dealt major damage or not, the fatigue factor meaning he'd much rather sit back and try to recover as soon as possible before the next fight.

This was one of those times when he was left waiting for Tommy to show up to his house, surprisingly having to wait a long time despite both of them living not too far away from one another in the fine city of Detroit where the underground fighting ring was based. He sat on the concrete steps outside his home, a building where several apartments were filled by various different people from those totally on their own to full families atruggling to fit everybody into the small rooms that couldn't even accomodate the average American's refridgerator contents. The street seemed barren and cold, empty and devoid of life, grey skies reflecting the grey and dull nature of this area, lifeless through and through. A slight breeze traveled through the street, making the grass and weeds growing sparingly in cracks along the sidewalk and in small patches dotted here and there in an attempt to try to bring something other than steel and concrete and brick to this area. That same breeze went through his hair, picking it up off his shoulders and causing it to dance in the air, gently tickling the very atmosphere around him, blowing across his face and causing his long, luscious locks to create a sort of mask, shielding him from the same wind that made his hair gently smack him in the face in the first place.

Mind thinking back to his most recent fights, he seemed to reflect on what had taken place, a long haired blonde man who seemed skilled in taekwondo, hitting a flurry of kicks and punches but coming up short after a few swift yet powerful blows by Dazz. That was the thing about him, he was skilled in many disciplines, able to pull out moves from a background studying muay thai, judo, jiu jitsu amongst many, many others. That meant that no matter the opponent, he could always find a move to pull out in the heat of battle or use a method to counter and block most things thrown at him, as was the case with the blonde opponent who thought he'd try to surprise him with a sudden roundhouse to the back of the head but Dazz was able to spot it coming and immediately duck to one knee, raising a forearm up to block the kick swinging towards the back of his skull then moments later exploding to life with one of his own that saw his foot just clip the side of the blonde's face to take him down hard for the win.

By the time his reminiscing had glossed over and ended, he discovered he was seated in a vehicle being driven by Tommy Chaos, the two in total silence as they continued their journey. Looking over to his friend, he watched as Tommy concentrated on driving, perhaps lost in his own thoughts, unaware that he was being looked at. Tommy was of a medium build, never wanting to look too athletic or powerful in his fighting days and just wanting to be the man on the street with no muscles showing at all. He always wore dark t-shirts with various logos on, usually something related to music but not always the case along with either black jeans or black dress pants, doing away with the shirt and jacket normally associated with suits due to his preference for the more casual t-shirt. There was no reason anybody who knew him could come up with for this unusual combination of wardrobe but it worked for Tommy so they usually put it out of their mind quite quickly. His look was completed by either a pair of black and white Converse shoes or sneakers that could be by any brand, not particularly caring too much who makes them as long as they were comfortable to wear. His hair was black and kept short along with his trimmed goatee beard that covered his chin and upper lip with facial hair, contrasting with his passenger.

Dazz turned away from Tommy, looking directly ahead through the windshield of the car to see their destination, a massive steelworks that encompassed a huge area but looking abandoned, a hollow and empty shell of its former self dominating the landscape in this area of Detroit, huge structures penetrating the skyline and looking almost like a monster made of iron and steel. The car got ever closer to this building, other vehicles already parked outside but empty, betraying that the owners and occupants might already be in another place, perhaps inside the building since a huge door was open on one side. It seemed as if perhaps this steelworks might have also been here to not only melt metal to create all kinds of objects but was mainly for creating for the motoring industry due to its place in the manufacturing heart of Detroit, a relic of the 1980s left to rot alone long ago and now used as a meeting place for people including himself and Tommy.

Pulling up alongside some other vehicles, Tommy switched off the engine and removed the keys, looking toward Dazz and exiting the car, waiting as Dazz did the same before both slammed the doors shut within a split second of one another. The two stood out in the open air, taking in the surroundings before Dazz grabbed at his own t-shirt, tugging it off and tossing the white cotton item into the car, for a second time since arrival shutting the door while Tommy watched ready to say something, waiting momentarily before coming out with it.

Tommy Chaos: Ready?

A gentle nod allowed Tommy the chance to see the affirmation of his question, beginning to walk away from the car and towards that huge building, Dazz gently stepping across the floor after him wearing just a pair of jeans and black work boots, learning long ago not to wear any clothing other than the occasional tanktop if he didn't mind getting it bloodied either with his own crimson or that of his opponent painted all over his clothes. The gentle crunch of small stones underneath his feet as he walked were the only sounds he could hear, silence filling the rest of the world as if somebody had turned everything else on mute for the moment. He eventualy made it inside the building after Tommy, looking around and seeing a gathering of people in the not too far distance, all paying him no mind and lost in their own conversations. Getting ever closer to them, he and Tommy paused as they looked around themselves, Tommy spotting something then turning to face Dazz and inform him of something he'd seen.

Tommy Chaos: Looks like your opponent today is Youngblood, he's already over there with his people.

He looked across at his latest opponent, unsure as to how he might win this one, the usual confidence that he'd had disappeared upon sight of this huge man mountain. His mind became eschewed, all sorts of things racing through it as he did his best to remain calm in the face of such monstrous circumstances. The sheer terror, the uncomfortable feeling brewing up deep inside as he stared across at this giant, this behemoth performing his own warm up routine, limbering up by slowly cracking his neck first to the left and then the right followed by his fingers pushed against his open palm, knuckles popping with a ferocity that could be heard from across the room. As if to further alleviate the tension in his opponent further, he openly pushed each finger back enough to hear the bones snap gently, not enough to break but to help free up any feeling of tightness, loosening the joints to be limber enough to grab, to squeeze, to bend wthout discomfort.

He wasn't finished yet though, rolling his wrists and hearing them gently crack too, a snarl emitting from his curled lips, face contorted with a sick sort of pleasure at the punishment he was yet to inflict, grinning with rage and senseless to the suffering his opponent may experience at his own hands. It was this sort of thing that made him so feared among the gathering here and those who had whispered about the terrible deeds this goliath had committed, deeds that would have seen him incarcerated in prison for the rest of his life or even sentenced to death if discovered by the police. In fact, according to legend he'd actually been discovered during a fight when police burst in, the whole crowd quickly dissipating to avoid being caught and arrested for being involved in illegal underground fighting, even if they were just onlookers on the sidelines.

As the police had interrupted the brawl, Youngblood had turned to face them, sneering in anger at the fact he'd been stopped midway through one of his fights and - without taking his eyes off the lawmen - gave a hard punch to the face that sent his opponent's head back with such velocity that his neck broke and he crumpled to the ground dead. Upon seeing this, so the legend goes, the police training their weapons on Youngblood trembled in fear, doing nothing as he approached slowly, reaching out to grab at one handgun before yanking it away and beginning to fight with the law, taking them all on completely unarmed and winning, the remaining police who were lucky enough to escape and not end up broken on the floor soaked in their own blood vowing to stay away and spread the word so that nobody ever dared attempt to break up one of these fight meetings ever again.

The knowledge of this terrified Dazz, having come up against tough opponents, intimidating opponents but none were of the same ilk as Youngblood, not even close. He seemed to be the largest, the most dangerous, somebody that commanded respect without a vocal demand for it, his mere presence enough to intimidate people into bowing down and catering to his every whim. The very thought of having to fight someone of Youngblood's stature was more than enough to make him wonder why he entered this realm in the first place, knowing he was well known and never bet against amongst the others associated with underground fighting. Sure he had the skills to take on any challenger but could his abilities serve him well again or would the moves and tactics he'd built up over time and perfected be slowly picked apart one by one while Youngblood picked him apart and left him as a rotten carcass with limbs scattered all over ready to be taken home as trophies by those in attendance, another example of an easy fight for the larger, more imposing man.

He continued to stare, watching as Youngblood roamed around, back and forth pacing like a caged animal waiting to be let out to do his damage, ready to pounce on his prey before ripping and tearing the flesh away with his teeth, devouring the man foolish enough to take him on like a lion feasting upon a down zebra or gazelle on the Serengeti. Every few seconds he'd turn his head to look directly at Dazz, grinning as a show of his fearless and intimidating demeanour, knowing that like all others before him in this position, just a mere look shot for less than a few seconds would be enough to strike fear into his very core, into his heart and make him wonder what kind of unlucky draw, what kind of sick joke it may be to have him up against this hulking beast that was known as a destroyer of men.

There was no going back though, watching his opponent and his "handlers", Youngblood looking inocuous in his clothes, a pair of jeans and a black wifebeater that barely covered the huge chest and shoulders of this mastadon, black hair short and pushed back with water or gel or some substance above that huge neanderthal forehead, bulging blue eyes looking wild and full of raging intensity with a slight stubble on his face that stretched all around a massive jaw that seemed inhumanly large and incapable of being damaged, prominent on his face and moving gently as he smiled and spoke to those he associated with.

Meanwhile those who had gathered around, formed a crowd seemed to be a mixed bag of humanity, not only those who would fit in with the underground fighting crowd with their casual clothing similar to what the fighters themselves wear but also those who would normally be seen as the ones to shy away from such violence, the men and women in business suits, some of whom had apparently been involved in gambling on the outcome since the 80s. Every single one of them either chatted to one another in conversation about other matters or otherwise yelled and hollered at both fighters, either cheering on Youngblood or jeering at Dazz and telling him in no uncertain terms that they're looking forward to seeing him get punished, that he'll be destroyed quickly, almost reveling in the thought of him being killed before them.

Men on a small platform of old wooden pallets left from when this steelworks was in action decades ago stacked on top of each other stood by a massive chalkboard, the names of both fighters written in white chalk and split by lines to separate them, odds scrawled by each name along with numbers where people were shouting figures they'd be willing to pay on each fighter, Youngblood clearly the favourite amongst this mob of people baying for blood. It seemed that no matter what he did whether he stood completely still waiting for the fight to start or gently stretched his limbs and torso, limbering up in preparation for the onslaught he'd have to face and attempt to counter, those people in the crowd surrounding them in a circle of judgment gave him nothing but verbal abuse, taunting him constantly. It almost seemed as if they would get as much pleasure from watching Youngblood tear him limb from limb as Youngblood himself would by actually doing it.

He had no time now to back out, no way to escape this beating he'd be sure to suffer even if he wished to do so. That was the thing though, he had no feeling within him that would make him back away and leave, turn tail to run as far away as he could get, just wasn't in his nature to back down from a challenge even if the challenge could cost him his life. If there was one thing that people always misjudged about him throughout this career fighting people of all shapes and sizes, it was his heart and his courage. His small yet athletic stature meant a lot of people backed the larger behemoths like Youngblood and never gave him a chance and even if he beat people said to be the favourites, the ones "guaranteed" victory, again his efforts and abilities seemed to be overlooked as nothing but a fluke. Indeed, he came to expect that whenever he'd get a major win over somebody seen as the odds on favourite, the opponent would still be given the best treatment and the hype for taking part, the fact they lost glossed over in an effort to ignore the person who won. Such was the mistreatment he'd become accustomed to over years.

That was why he wanted to prove himself time and time again, show that despite the misgivings people had about him, he could defeat people seen as the bigger fighters, the more dominant warriors. After all, life was just one fight after another anyway where you either keep coming back for more until you overcome whatever obstacle stands in your way and obstructs your path or you give up and end it all early on. Why not put that theory into practise with physical fights, overcoming obstacles and obstructions in the form of other humans given special status? Surely they too were seen as underdogs and incapable of winning early on in their careers so clearly the way forward would be to pick a tactic and stick to it as you force your way through, taking the time to think about your actions before diving head first into uncertainty, much like when confronted with a doorway during a house fire. Do you go straight for the handle and rush through to the other side, burning your hands and finding yourself engulfed in flame rushing against you as the sudden burst of oxygen entered the room or do you survey the scene first and take the time to figure out a strategy for getting past without causing injury or harm to yourself?

The time had come, all time for logic thought and pondering had frittered away and evaporated into the ether. A quick few hops on the spot swinging his arms back and forth as a last minute warm up before his people gently patted him on the shoulders and back to let him know it was ready, it was go time. Youngblood moved away from his group of hangers on towards the centre of the fighting area, nothing fancy or covered in mats, just a circled area of bare concrete where the boundaries were the onlookers, the people watching and placing bets on who would win, those same people who could decide on a whim whether to move closer together and ensnare the fighters or move apart to give them a wider place to brawl. As Youngblood moved to the very middle of the fighting area, so did Dazz, his long hair and defined musclular structure packed within a smaller frame a stark contrast to the short hair and house-sized opponent he had to go up against.

He walked over, ever closer to this giant of a man and kept his eyes on him at all times, Youngblood still with a smirk as if he would have yet another easy victory coming up in record time. Dazz continuing to walk, almost as if Youngblood was stood miles away instead of just a few metres, feeling nothing other than a nervousness that seemed to not only make him shiver outwardly like a ripple on a pond starting from the impact point and spreading away but also seemed to permeate the very atmosphere he was entering, the atmosphere of the battleground he would occupy until he or Youngblood lost this street fight. The two men stood up close, mere inches between them as Youngblood stared down at his opponent, that smile still etched on his face in preparation of the damage he was preparing to inflict, no care whether he makes this smaller man quit, whether he knocked him out cold or whether he caused another fatality, the only thing he seemed to care about was winning no matter what the cost.

Dazz was so small in comparison that he couldn't even look him in the eye without needing to crane his neck upwards, instead Youngblood's chest was directly in front of his line of vision. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been against someone of this stature but the terrifying thing about this behemoth was the history, the multitude of stories surrounding Youngblood and his conquests, the deaths of previous opponents, the brutal nature of his brawling style all gave a deep sense of dread that was matched by no other. The only tactic he could think that might possibly work was to not allow Youngblood the opportunity of the first strike nor could he afford to stay up close in case he was grabbed and snapped in half in those huge paws on the ends of his arms. With the crowd of onlookers cheering on the mammoth before him, Dazz decided to wait it out a little while longer, maintaining eye contact until Youngblood turned his head to motion towards the seemingly endless supply of supporters he had amongst the gathering, letting them know through a shrug of those huge shoulders and a condescending expression on his face that he would dispose of this opponent quickly and easily.

The shock on his face then when Dazz took the distraction as his cue to land the first strike seemed to only make those previously bulging eyes even more hate filled, teeth bared like a raging baboon, his face shaking and turning red as steam could quite literally be coming out of his ears, not that Dazz would notice since already he was looking to follow up quickly, his right hand to the massive caveman jaw swinging back again to connect with the same spot, his left shin connecting with the knee of Youngblood. The massive man didn't seem to notice, only registering the fact he was hit and not the pain that came with it, smashing his own fist into the face of his opponent, catching Dazz flush in the mouth to reel him back. The sudden blow surprised him at first but was quickly followed by a wave of agony that started at the impact point just on the left side of his lips and grew to make his entire mouth and jaw hurt, his eyes blinking as he staggered back slightly, gaining his vision back fully just in time to see the follow up.

Youngblood's right hand seemed to move in slow motion, reared back so that all Dazz could see were his fingers clenched into his palm, his knuckles pointed upwards like mountains upon his hand while his massive forearm and bent elbow trailed off into the distance. The sounds of the gathering crowd felt like they were far away or as if he was underwater attempting to listen and pick out certain words but unable to, just a typical noise entering his eardrums with no clarity, no definition to allow him to know whether they were jeering him or roaring in excitement at the fact Youngblood was retaliating with monstrous punches. There was no time to even consider what may be happening in the periphery of this fighting ground, that second punch finally arriving at its destination, colliding like a meteor upon a prehistoric Earth smack bang against the face again. Like the astronauts who got to spend time in space, Dazz saw nothing but stars, white flashes before his eyes blinding him temporarily although he wasn't sure if he'd ever regain his sight again due to the sheer force in which he was hit.

Before he knew it another strike was raining down upon him, slamming into his eye this time followed once again by a fourth shot that connected with the bone of his eyebrow. In his dazed state he could see that the crowd were lapping this up, cheering on Youngblood and daring him to destroy this opponent, pick him apart and leave him as a broken and bloody mess. This huge monster of a man would probably indulge them their hopes and wishes after he'd relished the chance to inflict enough damage to satisfy his own blood lust. He went for yet another punch but was stalled when Dazz swung a kick that hit Youngblood in the side of the leg, making him look down at the area affected then back up at his face before snarling and grasping this smaller opponent, pummeling him with repeated blows over and over, connecting with his face and torso.

There was nothing he could do but take the punishment, the absolute mauling he was receiving leaving him unable to do anything to block or retaliate. Youngblood continued his decimation by using his fists, elbows and even his own forehead, taking the time to slam parts of his body constantly against the most vulnerable areas of his opponent, mainly in the face before grabbing his shoulder with one hand and driving the other into the stomach and ribs in an attempt to shatter them. He smashed one more punch into the temple to send Dazz crashing down to the solid concrete floor, beginning to kick and stamp at him and feeling the torso, the arms, the head collide with every angry and aggressive shot. The boots Youngblood wore only served to damage Dazz even more, the thudding of leather and the metal decoration around the laces and surrounding the very edge of the sole hammering and cutting at the flesh.

He couldn't see Tommy but just knew that his friend was most likely watching on full of worry and screaming at him to get up and fight back, not knowing that the onslaught he was faced with was too much to even attempt something like that no matter how hard he wanted it. Youngblood grabbed at him and dragged him hard to his feet, staring into his eyes and preparing to lay siege with another attack but Dazz was the quickest in thinking, swinging his leg and feeling it connect against something, Youngblood's eyes widening again only not with rage this time but the sudden sharpness of pain. His grip loosened and allowed Dazz to be free, watching as the huge beast grasped as his groin after the mighty kick Dazz had slammed into that region. Quick to react, Dazz continued the attack, hammering with kicks to the legs and ribs and punches to the face as he tried to do as much damage as possible to this huge beast, slamming blows as hard as he can manage within his fatigued and hurting body. One final blow came, Dazz taking a step back then sidestepping towards Youngblood, lifting his leg high in the air as the sole of his boot connected just underneath that colossal jaw, this massive opponent feeling his head snapped back to take him off balance, Dazz staring as Youngblood collapsed to the ground with an almighty thud, seemingly out cold from the final kick.

The silence created a tension in the atmosphere, tension that could be cut with a knife as the crowd of people stared at this huge beast lay on his back staring up at the roof of the steelworks, eyes slightly glazed over as he looked vulnerable for the first time since arriving. Pure shock seemed to fill the onlookers, still in a hushed silence as they slowly but surely turned their eyes from Youngblood on the ground to his bloodied opponent, Dazz still in a fighting stance ready to strike again if necessary, sweat and blood covering his face and torso while his breathing was still shallow as if he'd run a marathon. The fact this man had beaten someone perceived as the absolute best, someone who was considered a giant in the world of underground fighting and had never lost before, in fact he'd always dealt a severe punishment to whoever was unlucky enough to have to take him on. Once again, the stories and the myths surrounding him and his many fights had created a legend that horrified and created a terror amongst people involved in the actual physicality of this "profession", not wishing to be drawn against Youngblood but now Dazz had proven that this man could be beaten, could be defeated with a swift blow and the proof was lying in front of him on the ground.

A hand against his shoulder surprised him, quickly springing around ready to strike again but finding that there was no need, the person touching him wasn't about to hit him but congratulate him, Tommy Chaos standing with a huge smile on his face and his hand outstretched, looking warm and inviting compared to the brutality and hostility he'd grown accustomed to since the fight started. Dropping his guard, Dazz shook Tommy's hand as the two moved away from the circle of onlookers, away from the potential danger of anyone wishing to try their chances against the man who beat their favourite, the man who they bet and subsequently lost their money on. Walking towards a more neutral area of the steelworks, the two men stood with Tommy wrapping an arm over his friend's shoulders, leaning in close to speak so that Dazz could hear him clearly and block out the complaining and the desperation as the crowd tried to gain their money back or vented their anger towards Youngblood and his people.

Tommy Chaos: Congratulations Dazz, that was incredible.

Still unable to speak due to catching his breath, Dazz simply nodded gently, pain wracking his body from the beating and the physical exertion.

Tommy Chaos: Ok, I know you're not gonna enjoy hearing this so soon after that fight but you're already being lined up against another opponent and if you win you'll be guaranteed to be known as the King of the Motor City.

Dazz: Huh? What?

Tommy Chaos: Well lets put it this way, you beat Youngblood, the first to do it since he began. That's put you in a prominent role and the head of the fighting ring was watching over there and the moment that big bastard hit the deck, he walked over and told me you're pretty much lined up to be crowned the best fighter in Detroit.

Dazz: Oh.........ok.

The information was still trying to sink in past the pounding headache he had but at least he wasn't struggling so much to breathe now. The tightness in his chest and the apparent shrinking of his lungs - or at least that's how they felt to him - were beginning to ease off. In the background, Youngblood was starting to stir, helped by his people as they tried to ease him away from the scene of his defeat, taking their tiny percentage of the money for taking part and for once unable to take home the winning purse, the victory wage. Their faces showed anger and disappointment all wrapped up in one single package of emotion, Tommy continuing to gently pat his friend's back as they stood in the same spot.

Tommy Chaos: Anyway, your next opponent. See that woman over there? The one talking to that guy dealing with the money?

He looked and saw a brunette woman, diminutive in stature wearing a pair of hipster jeans and a light coloured sleeveless top, almost a pale violet against her equally pale white skin standing with the main man who adds up the money taken in bets by the gamblers, keeping some for their own work as well as sorting out the prize pot for the winners, the two seeming deep in conversation together, even sharing a smile or two along the way to show that their banter was definitely leaning towards the friendlier aspect of conversation. Continuing to stare at her, Dazz couldn't help but get a strange sensation within him, wondering why on earth a woman such as her would want to fight against males, most of which would be bigger than her. Then again, appearances can be deceptive as he proved many times over the years and who's to say she isn't possibly the greatest fighter who ever lived with her looks and size casting a shadow over her potential toughness and fighting ability.

Tommy Chaos: Her name's Angelica Jones, tough little minx too so I hear. Don't worry about her just yet though, focus on getting fixed up cause the fight against her isn't scheduled for a short while anyway.

That was good to hear. He honestly wasn't sure if he was capable of even moving much let alone get involved in another fight, especially one where he could be in for a tougher ride than he was against Youngblood only moments ago.

Tommy Chaos: Ok, so you get to the car and wait there, I'll grab our cash and introduce myself to Angelica, let her know I represent you then we can get out of here.

With that, Tommy removed his hand from his shoulder and walked towards the pallets where the money was kept and Angelica was standing. Turning away from them, Dazz slowly attempted to move finding it difficult at first and taking baby steps until he was used to walking again, finding that he was more than capable of leaving the steelworks on his own strength. He was thankful he didn't require help, not needing to be carried or dragged to the vehicle, feeling that once he got going he was perfectly fine with walking if only for that agonising pain wracking his entire body, engulfing him in sharp pin pricks of flinching agony and aching throughout every muscle and every bone.

The light from outside the massive building seemed intrusive to his eyesight, almost blinding him after spending some time in a darker area and having the living daylights beaten out of him, massive blows coming down on his face and head to make his vision not what it was before the fight started, at least until he healed anyway. Every footstep seemed like a massive effort but there it was, the black and unassuming beaten up Rolls Royce he and Tommy - along with their Chaos A.D. team mates - had acquired from Lord Phillippe DeMontfort back in 2002, the dents from the vehicle being driven through a wall and then having a 7'2 monster by the name of Nemesis driven into the hood with a vicious leaping piledriver. Further damage was also caused over the years by little knocks and bumps along the way, the name of their group spray painted along both sides of the car in silver, the impromptu modification still there albeit a little worn, damaged and faded itself from years of abuse.

Reaching the Rolls Royce after what seemed an eternity of trekking just to reach the door, he reached into a pocket having felt Tommy put something in there before he ventured off towards Angelica, removing the keys to the car and pushing a button to unlock it. He grabbed at a silver handle and tugged it gently, the door opening as he reached in to push another button, popping the trunk open and circling round to the back of the car, unzipping a bag and opening it to get at the contents. Inside was a full packet of baby wipes along with a navy blue towel, extra thick and soft to the touch, Dazz first taking the wipes and brushing their cool and moist surface all across his face, his chest and his stomach, the blood that smeared his skin wiped clean away from him. Tossing them into a plastic carrier bag in the trunk to dispose of them for now, he grabbed the towel and used it to mop himself down to erase any remaining sweat and the wetness of the wipes, slamming the trunk shut and moving around to the passenger seat of the Rolls Royce, the left hand side due to this car being imported from DeMontfort's country of birth, the United Kingdom, specifically England.

Before he sat down though, he neatly placed the cleaner side of the towel over the back of the seat then pulled it taut, finally taking his seat so that he wouldn't get blood or sweat on the seats, instead allowing the towel to soak up the bodily fluids seeping from his pores, from his wounds, some of which were still open. As soon as he slammed the door shut behind him and rested his head back, a sigh escaped his body, thoughts running through his head. He'd defeated seemingly the best in Detroit and left his status as underdog in that brawl far behind with the surprise victory against the odds on favourite. He was apparently close to being named the Motor City King after Youngblood's defeat and needed just one more win to prove he deserved that status but how could he possibly fight a woman? Clearly he'd fought females before but each and every time he did, he always had a sense of dread unlike any he felt towards Youngblood. With that behemoth he was panicking more for his own safety but against women......he didn't feel comfortable with the idea of intentionally hurting a female, that fact showing true whenever he saw a woman taking on a man in these fights and flinching every time she received a blow anywhere whether she was the better and tougher fighter or not.

He closed his eyes for just a second, trying to let it all sink in before opening them again and watching as Tommy came walking out of the steelworks with a smile on his face and a massive fistful of money, looking like there was enough to buy this old abandoned building if they so wished, that is unless they were cheated and paid in dollar bills to create a sense of having more cash. Angelica followed not long after, moving to her own car but waving to Dazz in the Rolls Royce, causing him to painfully raise his arm to wave back and force a grimacing smile. The driver side door opened and Tommy climbed in, still smiling and opening the glove compartment to stash the earnings from the fight before pushing it closed and leaning back.

Tommy Chaos: Angelica's great, really friendly. She's looking forward to the fight, wished you well by the way after that mauling you took from Youngblood, can't say I blame you though really considering we all knew what he was capable of. We made pretty much a few thousand at least, maybe into 5 figures.

Looking at his friend again, Tommy spotted the wounds on his face, torso and arms more easily now he wasn't c overed in so much blood, wincing as if in pain himself before whistling.

Tommy Chaos: Boy, sure did a number on you huh? Lets get you to the hospital, have you cleaned and stitched up then we can go decide what to do with these winnings.

Not that it mattered to him at all what they did with the money, all he wanted was to be treated in the medical room and have chance to experience life without pain wracking your entire body from head to toe, longing for the day he can move or even sit completely still without hurting. Managing to reach over and pull on his seat belt, his head fell back once again to make use of the head rests atop each seat, using it to keep himself upright while he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of jangling keys followed by the roaring of an engine coming into life. He hoped Angelica would do less damage to him so that he wouldn't be in the amount of pain that he was currently in.......

******



Gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire

Turn on, I see red
Adrenaline crash and crack my head
Nitro junkie, paint me dead
And I see red

A hundred plus through black and white
War horse, warhead
Fuck 'em man, white knuckle tight
Through black and white

Oooh on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean
And on I burn
Turning my direction
Quench my thirst with gasoline

So gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire

Turn on beyond the bone
Swallow future, spit out home
Burn your face upon the chrome

Take the corner, join the crash
Headlights, headlines
Another junkie lives too fast
Yeah lives way too fast, fast, fast

Oooh on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean
And on I burn
Turning my direction
Quench my thirst with gasoline

So gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire
Oooh, yeah

Oooh, gimme fuel
Give me fire
My desire

Oooh on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean
And on I burn
Turning my direction
Quench my thirst with gasoline

So gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire

On I burn

Fuel - Metallica



******

With the camera opening up to this scene, we are entitled to the image of the new MCW World Heavyweight champion Dazz, only seen on screen is his face, the crafted and closely trimmed sideburns adorning the sides of his face and cheeks pointing toward his upper lip while his eyes are uncovered, those blue jewels glistening slightly even in th eface of a somewhat drag looking piece of footage. With his hair forming a frame around his face by hanging down to his shoulders and looking as full of life as his eyes and the tiny hint of a smile forming in the corner of his mouth, he begins to speak.

Dazz: I can't honestly believe this. Two weeks on and I'm still feeling shocked at what transpired during All Hallow's Annihilation. Like I'd said, two guys would walk in with no agendas and one would walk away as the champion and while Rayne did his damndest to hold onto the World Heavyweight title.......

The camera pulls back slightly to show the belt hanging over one shoulder, held in place by his left hand with the centrepiece shining and looking comfortable and almost as if it belonged there. The black leather strap matched the black t-shirt he wore, making the gold stand out even more, especially with the roof of a car behind him and the greying skies of the coming of winter in the background. An ambulance coming into shot and quickly moving from one side of the screen to the other before disappearing out of view again reveals that Dazz is standing in the parking lot of a hospital.

Dazz: ......but as you can see, it just wasn't his night. It's unfortunate that he revealed his retirement weeks before because I would've enjoyed having to potentially have him cash in his rematch clause at Nightmare Before Christmas but I guess he had other things on his mind and decided that - rightfully - his child and his diagnosed pancreatic cancer were too important to carry on in MCW or this industry as a whole. That's why as long as I'm World champion, I'm going to do several things. First, I'm gonna prove that I deserve this title and that I can lead the way, carry my weight and give this company a champion to believe in, a champion who will answer any challenge that stands in my way.

Second, I'm gonna do everything I can to not only honour the likes of Whitecloud but also Rayne Young when I carry this championship. That's right, while others might be all about how they're going to be the greatest of all time, the best champion in MCW history, talking a big game constantly, instead I'm doing what any right minded person would do in this situation. I'm acknowledging the past, the people who made this piece of leather and gold mean something, who carried it with pride week after week after week with a grip on it as if their very lives depended on it. Men and women like the always dangerous Lethal Weapon, the always drunk Alcohol Paul and my next opponent, the always tough and not to be underestimated Angelica Jones.

You know what it's like to take part in this dance don't you? You've been here before a few times, holding this very championship I have on my shoulder, staring at your own reflection in the bright gold and on the outside exuding a confidence that just cries out "hell yeah, this is where I belong, welcome home" but on the inside.....on the inside it's different isn't it? You've been to the mountain top in MCW twice before, this is my first time but having staked my claim 26 times previously over my career, and that's only counting World and Undisputed championships.......that feeling of your stomach somersaulting, your mind going fuzzy and feeling warm and faint, spine tingling and skin feeling prickly. The thoughts that run through your head, at first thinking how amazed you are at having won a major championship regardless whether it's your first or thirty first, quickly overtaken by the fear that sets in deep that now you have a massive responsibility. Makes you feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders and every person on the planet is relying on you to be their saviour, their hero and represent them in everything you do.

It's something that no matter how many times you find yourself in this position, the nerves are always there, especially with the first defense. This is why I have that usual first defense nerves any new champion would have. I admire the fact you have a great amount of confidence though because obviously you've held this title before twice and defeated some tough opponents since you debuted here in MCW, the likes of which would make anyone not used to this level of competition balk and shit their pants in absolute terror. Although lets face it Angelica, you have an extra reason to wanna give it your all, the fact you vowed to retire once you lost all your championships, leave this business forever and force yourself to sit at home watching as others get to step into the ring and give it their all. Will that upset you Angelica? Will it make you regret this decision to walk away, leave it all behind? Will you go back on your word and return to stake your claim once again as one of MCW's biggest talents? We'll have to see.

I've been on the receiving end of those emotions though myself a few times, telling myself in 2006 I could walk away and spend my time working the offices instead of my usual work environment. I did a desk job in CWF that carried over into MCW but that hunger, that desire to compete was strong and kept growing inside until I ended up back in the ring, even if it was on rare occasions in MCW and signing an extension in another company. Then, after becoming the first honest and real Grand Slam champion in that other company, that was when I'd decided to give it all up, not having the desire to stay there thanks to their knack of holding back the real talents, pushing them to the bottom of the heap in favour of their lesser talented favourites. After all, I wanted to leave that place for good anyway because of the way they treated their roster but once I'd achieved my goals and had nothing left to accomplish, that was it. I left, walked away, dropped everything to go home and bide my time. I was all set to focus on my band, my music career but then had a change of heart and saw something that made me realise that there is some good in this industry, that MCW is still just as great as it was when I was here.

Now here I stand, MCW World Heavyweight champion, number 1 contender to the Motor City championship that you currently hold and revered by many in the locker room and in the crowd that pays hard earned money to come see us live or order the pay per view events every few months. It's that love, that appreciation for what we do by Jacob Laymon and our amazing fans that spurs me on to be the very best I can be. Without them I'd probably be sitting at home, writing songs and recording demos in preparation for a future album and only getting to see friends, family and my band instead of the thousands of great people who line up to see us in person and the close knit family back in that locker room. You really honestly believe you'll be able to step back and leave it all behind? My half brothers Jason and Cody Stylez are retired from this business too, as is my younger brother Kid Chaos and while they were happy to congratulate me on my win against Rayne, tell me how proud they were of me for once again becoming World champion, the look in their eyes when they saw me with the belt, when they handled the championship and looked at every single detail carved into the gold let me know that they deep down wished they could still be competing, still winning championships of their own.

Jealousy runs rampant between siblings and family members anyway and if my relatives are feeling the green eyed monster over their shoulder over me becoming World champ again then surely you will also feel the same if Kayla does the same, emulates the success you've had in your career. Would you be able to handle your sister doing what you might not manage to do and win this title in future, get herself inducted into the Hall of Fame alongside you, make her own name as her own person rather than being forever known as "the sister of Angelica Jones"? Only you can answer those questions Angelica but you're gonna need to think long and hard about this rather than make rash decisions. After all, if I beat you at Mayhem to retain my title and gain yours, even if it's for a few minutes before Jacob asks for it back to allow someone else the chance to compete for it, that means you and Kayla will ony have the Tag Team championships around your waists. That means that at Nightmare Before Christmas, you might see yourself ending the year losing the belts to either Hostile Takeover, Southern Blood or Last Rites, making the last MCW event of 2009 coincide with your last MCW event in your career.

Lets face it Angelica, this Mayhem's main event is the biggest for both of us. It has that huge event feel, major connotations with even bigger repercussions for the both of us. There are several situations that could branch off from this match, several scenarios that could play out in front of the world. On the one hand, I could lose, come off the high of my long winning streak and defeating Rayne Young for the biggest prize in this sport with an earth shattering bump and a reality check, having to watch as you become crowned the new champion, carrying all of MCW's gold for all to see. On the other hand, you could lose, watching as your opportunity to reign supreme in MCW for a third time screeches to a halt, the World title being just out of reach while the Motor City title slips away from your grasp like grains of sand, leaving you with just one half of the Tag belts and possibly forcing Kayla to pick up your slack due to your low mood and vulnerable state, one step closer to retirement.

This is a match that the fans didn't expect to see, something with such massive stakes on the line and everything to play for but the very nature of MCW giving the fans what they want to see and the unpredictability of this industry add up to ensure that we as athletes and champions don't get lazy or complacent and are constantly kept on our toes, wondering where the next challenge may come from. There's a reason I love being a professional wrestler and granted, there are the long periods of time away from home, away from our loved ones. There are the physical barriers we have to break through, no matter how hurt or banged up we are we have to be ready to compete each and every time for those fans. The pressures of performing in front of people who come to see you, the pressures of trying to endure and become a champion and then the expectations once you do hold a title. Those are the things I relish and I'm more than ready and capable of dealing with that pressure where others fail at the first hurdle. Whenever I hold a championship I strive to bring respect and honour to the table and I act the way a champion should. After all, as World champion, as the main focus of this company, I have to lead the way and lead by example.

I know you're gonna give it your all Angelica but ask yourself this. In the current mental state you're in with your promise of retirement always looming in the background, with potential challengers wanting to come after the titles you currently have, are you really ready to carry the torch through the darkness as the rest of MCW follows behind while you light the way? Bring your A game because I'm more than ready and able to take you on because I have reached the mountain top and after Mayhem, I will also become the king of the Motor City.

A brief and gentle pat on the golden centre piece of the MCW World Heavyweight championship draped over his shoulder brought about a slight smile, one not of smugness or arrogance but of confidence and the opportunity to indulge in a little friendly competition against another of MCW's major stars with two championships up for grabs to the winner. Indeed, as the old adage goes, "to the victor go the spoils" and Mayhem will certainly live up to that when one person walks away in victory with a campionship on each shoulder while the other walks away with their head held down in defeat and looking for the next chance to prove they truly are worthy of being in this kind of competitive battle again.

The End