Burning More Than Rubber

Fear and excitement. Two emotions he didn't dare announce to anybody, preferring instead to keep it secret and hide these feelings deep within his very core. It wasn't that he didn't feel masculine having these emotions coursing through his veins, it's that he didn't wish to express an inkling into how he may feel, that way he could throw his opponents off guard and move in for the kill. It was how he'd worked for years, talking up a big game outwardly but inside he couldn't wait to take on the challenge, face the next hurdle in his path towards showing everybody what he was capable of, what he could do inside the battleground he called home. It was the same situation here, nerves shredded and gut wrenching but on the surface he was nothing but oozing charisma and dripping with confidence. He stood there, staring out ahead of himself, doing all he could to look as if he was focusing hard on what was to come, as if he was planning ahead and trying to find the route he'd possibly take to get to the win he wanted with back ups just in case Plan A went slightly awry. In reality though he was just frowning slightly and hoping everything would go right first time, hoping he wouldn't die a death in failure while someone else takes what he sees as his victory. It's not that he's hell bent on taking all the glory as some idiots have said of him in the past despite those same people showing their true colours and hypocrisy by doing exactly what they accused him of, it's that he enjoyed giving himself the challenge of gaining something against either a tough opponent or taking on several all at once.

Which is what this situation was that he found himself in. Here he was, in a room covered in peeling light green painted walls with a white shiny tiled floor surrounded by wooden benches along the sides and in the middle of the room wearing just a pair of black boots and black leather trousers, not too tight but not very baggy either in a similar fashion to his wrestling attire only a more comfortable fit. His hair wasn't hanging at his shoulders as usual, instead tied up in a ponytail while a solemn expression covered his visage. A television set was attached to a wall near the ceiling, a slight contrast to the supposed brightness of the room with its black plastic casing attached to a black painted metal bracket to allow anybody to watch the screen depending what was being shown at the time. The room wasn't as bright as it could be, the lighting fixtures on the ceiling either broken and leaving some areas in slight shadow or a dim glow that barely showed any sort of detail in the benches but the dirt encrusted on the tiling was very visible in all but the area immediately underneath the only working fixture, bathing the corner in brightness and making any grime smeared on the walls or floor disappear under the all consuming and encapsulating light.

The television screen blared with its own dim glow, a sort of blue light given off a few feet from the source onto the floor and surrounding wall as he stared at it, watching as varying images flashed upon the screen, what seemed like two sports broadcasters wearing matching headsets and microphones, one of the people being an older male with greying hair and a navy blue polo shirt while his colleague was another male, this time with blonde hair that was cropped close to his scalp and a white Affliction style pattern all over the front and the sleeves from what could be seen, this male younger than the first. They held conversation, looking enthusiastic about whatever they were talking about but their discussion was muffled slightly, the volume not loud enough to hear specific words. Dazz moved from his position, ending his deep thought and turning towards the brightest side of the room and striding over there, his foot steps echoing slightly as he leaned forwards against the wall, both palms planted firmly against the solid concrete and tiling as he began to perform push ups against the wall, feeling his muscles begin to swell a little as blood rushed to his arms and shoulders, the warm liquid reaching his chest too while his long dark hair swayed between his shoulders.

The sound of foot steps from outside the room caught his attention but he continued to exercise regardless, allowing the sound to come closer as every piece of him focused entirely on what he was doing, his own warm up not to gain anything worthwhile physically, merely to give him something to focus on and take away from the completely empty and boredom inducing room he was occupying. The foot steps revealed themselves to be owned by a male with no hair, shaved off through choice rather than nature, a sleeveless shirt that allowed his arms to breathe, jeans covering the tops of his boots that sounded heavy and had grabbed the full attention of Dazz moments before. Walking into the room, Dazz finally turned to face him, looking him in the eyes and shaking his arms and shrugging his shoulders loose as he strode towards this bald man, reaching out his hand and having it taken as a handshake causes a slight smile on their faces.

Dazz: Hey boss, what's the deal now then?

Releasing his grip, the boss was quick to answer.

Boss: Well, there's still gonna be some action only this time there are four of you all fighting and jockeying for position.

He stood taking in every word that Boss said, his brow furrowing slightly at the news as if it were somehow a shock to him. Taking note of the reaction, Boss nodded ready to explain more.

Boss: Basically the situation we got is you and three others all wanting to prove yourselves. You know the score, it's the same every time.

Dazz: Kill or be killed, I gotcha.

Boss: Exactly.

Dazz: So who am I up against? Who's willing to put everything on the line this time?

Boss: As I said, just three this time, Axl Evermore, Priest and Faith.

Those names caused him to feel a little differently than he normally had when he was told the names of his opponents in the past. First off there was Axl, someone he wasn't all too familiar with in comparison to the other two but there was something there at least. He'd previously worked alongside Axl and the two seemed to get on well, made a pretty decent team and some had even commented that they seemed alike due to Axl's raw talent and athleticism as well as his penchant for talking, his outspoken nature that sometimes could lead to trouble from others yet he didn't seem to give a damn, only wishing to express his true and honest feelings and thoughts. There was also the fact he enjoyed talking about his prior achievements, accomplishments earned earlier in the company or indeed in other companies, constantly bringing them up time after time. Dazz could be exactly the same when times of arrogance took over his personality although it could be said that it wasn't necessarily arrogance or boasting, merely using those accomplishments as tools for not only proving you had the skills to back up whatever claim you wished to make and the spoils of previous battles but also as a possible intimidation factor for opponents, the number of victories earned previously could scare a relative rookie to the sport half to death and then half the race would be won automatically before reaching the starting grid.

Faith was somebody he'd known very closely for a number of years, shared many stories of endured battles, occasionally teamed up with and had one or two battles with in the past. Heck, he was married to the woman so that alone was reason enough to suddenly feel ill with worry and wonder if he should really go through with this. As far as he was concerned, he could just refuse to participate and cite personal reasons for bowing out. Indeed, it wouldn't be just an excuse to back out of it, it would be true because going up against a woman he was married to where only one person could remain alive and the others had to die was something he wasn't exactly willing to do. He wanted to win more than anything but with Faith as an opponent? He started trying to think what could happen if he refused, remembering how a previous participant who did the same was executed in front of the crowds as part of the pre-battle entertainment. Another thought came to mind with him considering taking part but intentionally killing himself and the other two if possible to allow her to survive and move on to the next battle even if he were to perish but frankly, he didn't want that either. She wasn't exactly a delicate flower and more than capable of handling herself but still, having to potentially kill his wife or watch her killed before his eyes wasn't a prospect he was looking forward to.

On the other hand was Priest, an intimidating person who could frighten with just a glance, his grand stature making him physically imposing not just in height but in his entire muscle structure, making other people seem smaller in comparison. People said he really was a monster but the fact was that after years of knowing Priest, Dazz knew that he was just flesh and blood like everybody else he'd faced before. It wasn't that he wanted to disrespect Priest by thinking such a thing about him, it's just that while usually he held the man in high regard for his career as a harbinger of pain and a destroyer of careers, on the almost rare occasions they'd had to do battle he was focused entirely on doing everything to defeat him, everything to find a way through the brick wall that was this powerful opponent. He'd mostly seen from the sidelines the damage that Priest could do, watching in awe as the big man seemingly toyed with opponents, decimating them physically at his own leisure after issuing menacing threats beforehand about the destruction of anyone who faced him. It seemed quite funny in a way, behind the scenes he and Priest shared a common bond in their apparent status as legends of this sport, looked up to the big man as a peer and a mentor, got on well with him in a sort of cordial friendship full of respect for one another.

This was why it seemed so hard for him to be his usual remorseless self, couldn't step out onto the battleground for which he was known for being among the best with an emotionless demeanour until the fight and the race was won. How could he when he had to go up against these people? It wasn't the same as taking on someone the likes of Nick Cagero where he could exude confidence, make his way out in front of the crowds and feel nothing until it was all over, now he had to deal with a friend, a person he was drawn to over their similarities AND his wife all at the same time. These types of thing were all or nothing but upon finding out who he was against this time, it felt more like all for nothing.

Boss: What's wrong? You seem kinda distant.

His facial expression had given him away, Boss knowing that he maybe felt more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of going against such people, the bond he had with two of the three and the bond he maybe deep down wished to form with the third out of their similarities in personality and ability on that battlefield something he never wished to break, especially in this manner. It felt almost as if this were done on purpose, something done purely to test him, see if he could go through with it and act as if nothing was wrong. His mettle was indeed going to be tested if he had to face off against these three people, not wishing to cause harm to any of them and hoping that the standard rules would apply as per normal. If that were the case then at least he wouldn't have to worry, try to pick his spot and win while allowing the others to take themselves or each other out of the equation so he didn't have it on his conscience.

Dazz: Ok fine, I'll do it then. So just end the thing in first place and it's done? I get to move onto the next job you give me?

The sudden appearance of a smile and a gentle shaking of the head coming from Boss let him know that somewhere in the thought process he'd got a few wires crossed and made a mistake in coming to the conclusion he'd reached.

Boss: No, no, I think you got it wrong bro. Every person for him or herself and it's pretty much a fight to the death, one left standing.

Dazz: Oh......right.

Boss: Hey don't worry about it, this is what it's all about right?

He gently patted Dazz on the shoulder, smiling before turning to walk away, leaving the room and foot steps echoing until finally silence once more apart from the dull volume of the television set, leaving him to stand there and feel physically sick and slightly dizzy at the prospect of the task he had to perform. There was no escaping it, he had a duty to do but could he really do this now? Could he really walk out there in front of a baying crowd of thousands and perform what he supposedly does best now he knew this piece of information? By the looks of things he really had no choice but to go ahead with this, participate and hope the guilt wouldn't eat him alive.

His chest heaved and expanded as he took in a deep breath, sighing loudly before turning to a bench and walking towards it, reaching out his hand and grabbing at somehting white resting on the surface, raising it and giving it a shake before hoisting it above his head, tugging it down and pulling his head and arms through holes in what was now revealed to be a tank top, slightly tight over his muscular torso but allowing his upper chest and his shoulders to be rendered visible while the majority of his pecs and his perfect abdominals were hidden underneath the cotton. One last look around this dingy room before he turned and walked away, leaving this place behind and stalking a corridor that seemed as lowly lit as the room he occupied, old worn posters that were ripped and torn to the point you couldn't tell what they were promoting or celebrating any more, heavy foot steps following him as the emptiness drew out the sound of his slow paced walk and bounced it all around as if another person were behind him.

Reaching a single blue door with no window, the paint peeling here too with the colour of faded wood looking almost grey with age underneath the paint, he reached for the handle and twisted the steel, feeling nothing as if the outside world was heating it to body temperature and thus only the hardness of this metal in his hand rather than cold or heat. He pulled the door gently towards him, allowing himself room to manoeuvre around it and step outside into the sun, the door closing behind him with a gentle thud and click as he looked out and raised a hand in the air, pulling his fingers into his palm to form a fist while the roar of a crowd almost deafened him, sounding distant but his ears buzzing while blocking out everything else. It was all he could do to push out the thoughts of harming these people and having to be the only one left alive at the end of it just to say he could walk out of this place as a contender to something. The importance, the sheer magnitude of this battle was enough to make even the toughest person balk at the task but to know only one could live and his opponents happened to be those he felt close to or he saw as equal to him? It was a damn miracle he even managed to step out here knowing that.

Walking aross the asphalt with the Detroit skyline in the distance, he looked to his left and saw the other competitors warming up and getting ready for this battle, Axl Evermore with his long hair tied back and wearing a dark leather jumpsuit covered in logos from his own custom Fully Loaded logo to sponsorships with the likes of Pepsi and Subway. He was stood next to his vehicle, something he'd dubbed the "Fully Loaded" that was just like him, small, fast yet full of hidden dangers. It looked almost like an enlarged ATV with a huge rollcage and leather braces held to a back rest to strap him in and ensure he wouldn't tumble about inside as he sped along, assault rifles attached in positions on the front with the triggers situated so that he could fire and drive at the same time, a ballistic missile attached to the roof of the cage and not much else. Axl seemed content with himself, half standing and half sitting as he leant against his vehicle, smiling and talking extensively to a camera crew with a microphone thrust in front of his face, most likely telling viewers that he would win by any means necessary and informing of past victories to explain just why he should be the one that viewers bet on as the winner.

Slightly further away was his wife Faith, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and white sleeveless top with a denim jacket over the top, leaning over a barrier to shake hands with a female fan in the crowd. Her long blonde hair swayed as she flicked it back and smiled, waving to the rest of the crowd gathered to watch the start of this battle. Her vehicle was the "Vicious Vixen", something that seemed a cross between a a convertible but with a box on top made of just one seat with safety harness, glass and steel surrounding it to make a sort of protective bubble. Spikes lined the sides to scrape against anyone who dared to come too close while machine guns and rocket launchers were placed all over facing the front with pistols and other assorted handguns were placed along the sides for easy use if she wished to reach to the sides and blast away.

The final opponent he had was the big man himself Priest, standing tall and menacing in jeans and a leather vest with his tattoos visible for all to see, a bandana covering his forehead with dark sunglasses over his eyes to block the sun and create an imposing and intimidating image for himself. As usual before these things he stood staring out into the crowds, almost as if he were burning a hole through the people gathered to watch this battle take place. The aura he gave off was one of contempt for his fellow man, not caring if people lived or died as long as he got to stake his claim as the veteran, the legend who went through it all and managed to survive long enough to be classed as one of the elite in this deadly form of entertainment. His vehicle of choice represented him entirely and perfectly, a large tank he called the "Grim Reaper" with turret facing the front ready to blast somebody out of the way with a heavy, pounding blow like he would if he was in a bar fight. Another sign of his sheer intimidation factor was the fact he had machine guns attached to the sides with huge bladed weapons littered along the front to impale anything in his way.

Dazz meanwhile began to stride towards his own vehicle, the "Chaotic Messiah", something that was large yet slimline, a machine built to be agile yet powerful and hard hitting as evidenced by the large cattle grid style bumper on the very front to ram opponents off the road, blades on the rims of his wheels for slashing tyres as he drove past somebody or if an opponent happened to attempt to overtake him. Machine guns and rocket launchers attached to any part available without slowing down the vehicle for what it was built for mostly, to win a race due to speed, the weapons seemingly attached not just for show but for times when they're absolutely necessary due to the very nature of this kind of battle. Running his hand over the steel that made up the structure of this sleek design should feel similar to the way he normally felt when he touched the surface of this vehicle before one of his battles but this time was different, having to conquer people he really had no wish nor desire to conquer.

He walked to the side, opening a door and climbing in before pulling the door shut and locking in the leather straps to ensure he doesn't jostle all around as he drove, turning his head to watch as the other competitors did the same, engines switched on and roaring into life, Dazz reaching forwards and turning the key in the ignition to do exactly the same, pushing his pedal down with his foot and rolling forwards towards a white line painted across the ground. All four lined up revving their engines, turning to look at one another with unemotional and determined stares aimed squarely at each pair of eyes looking out from each vehicle. Every head turning to the front, watching a set of lights high up near the stands, two pairs of red lights before green signals the beginning and screeching tyres cause smoke and heat to rise up from the asphalt, speeding off with black marks behind them at the starting grid. The roar of the engines and the noise of the vehicles speeding alongside each other meant that the crowd noise became even more distant within seconds until the quartet had driven through an arch in the stadium they started from and ending up along the streets of Detroit heading along the roads trying to jockey for position with Axl in the lead, Faith second, Dazz third and Priest in last place.

That didn't last long though, knowing Priest's regular tactic of hanging back at the beginning before unleashing all the power he possessed, ramming a corner of the Chaotic Messiah and causing Dazz to jerk forwards in his seat upon impact. Another vicious jab from the Grim Reaper causes Dazz to veer slightly off course and desperately move the steering wheel to try and keep on the track, dust clouds billowing as he tries to turn off the dirt, watching as Priest speeds on by to get ahead of him. Finally gaining control of his vehicle, Dazz makes a harsh right and floors it, more dust clouds and a screeching of tyres as he finally made it back onto the asphalt with no sight or sound of the others. There was no time to wonder how far ahead they'd gotten though, only enough time to focus on his own vehicle's performance, his eyes drifting to the boost button and feeling almost tempted to use it now but deciding against it, pushing his foot all the way down until the pedal can't go any further, watching as the surroundings became nothing but a fast moving landscape as if he were on a treadmill with the background projected onto a moving screen.

Eventually catching up to the other racers, he noticed that Faith and Axl were locked in combat at the front, machine gun fire ringing out through the air with grenades fired from launchers along the side of Faith's car, barely missing Axl as plumes of smoke and fire rose up from the ground inches from his wheels. Priest was hanging back as always, seemingly taking an interest in watching the fighting rather than taking part, possibly scouting for any additional weaponry added to the Fully Loaded or the Vicious Vixen since the last races they competed in. Both vehicles at the front locked in deadly combat with bullets tearing holes in the body of each other while explosions rocked them and caused black scorch marks and peeling paint where logos had been placed. Dazz could only watch the two, unable to get past Priest who had noticed him approaching and was swerving left and right to block him breaking through and joining the leaders of the pack, Dazz pushing a button and watching as a shotgun shell fired from his vehicle, striking the Grim Reaper and leaving a big dent, carefully aiming with his right hand and flicking a switch as a compartment opens up on the front of the Chaotic Messiah and fires off what looks like a hockey puck, continuing to drive behind Priest as the puck attaches itself to the dented area created by the shotgun then explodes, ripping a hole in the Grim Reaper with a ball of flame rising up and causing Priest to swerve to the right allowing Dazz to speed through the now empty space.

Now in third place, he tries to catch up to Faith, wanting to try and help out a little by shunting her aside and hoping the Vicious Vixen will break down and be stuck at roadside allowing her the chance to be eliminated without being killed. However, as if she wanted to try and win this herself, she suddenly boosts away, the flames from her rockets burning the front of the Chaotic Messiah as she steams ahead of the pack, Dazz turning his head to look at the Fully Loaded and noticing Axl with a huge grin on his face as if Christmas had come early. Taking his hands off the wheel, Axl grabbed at the assault rifles and squeezed the triggers, hail of bullets ripping through the air and connecting with the Vicious Vixen repeatedly. With the guns still being fired and his vehicle still facing straight ahead, Axl goes in all guns blazing as Dazz turns to look at his wife ahead of them and notices it slowing down, red painted all over the inside while he drives past and stares in horror at the sight of Faith slumped in the driving seat dead, the bullets having torn through her body as well as her vehicle. This only served to enrage him as he stared back at Axl, watching as he seemed pleased with himself and released the assault rifles to place his hands back on the steering wheel again, hearing Evermore's voice as he shouted out in pride.

Axl Evermore: YEAH BABY, I'M GONNA WIN ANOTHER ONE! AXL WILL ALWAYS BE NUMBER ONE FOR NOW AND EVERMO.....

His self gratifying speech was cut short as an explosion forced the Chaotic Messiah to the left with the force of the impact, keeping it as steady as possible and turning to see what happened, noticing the burning remains of the Fully Loaded with Axl most likely still inside, wondering what happened. Then, realisation hit and struck him with almost the same force as the blast which destroyed Axl. Tearing up the track behind him and coming into view was the Grim Reaper, smoke emerging from the end of that massive turret as Priest barreled up alongside him, trying to shunt him off the road as revenge for that mine being fired at him. Dazz holding his own, using the Chaotic Messiah's speed and sleek design to out quick the massive bulk of the Grim Reaper, finding himself ahead but getting rammed from behind, the sound of twisting steel as he realised those blades were scraping and trying to penetrate his vehicle. He seemed stuck, unable to move away with the tip of a blade having torn through the steel body somehow, winding a dial with his left hand to make the minigun situated on the roof of the Chaotic Messiah to swing around and face behind, holding his finger against a button and keeping it depressed to fire off round after round, ripping and tearing until eventually Priest had to back off and put the Grim Reaper in reverse to escape being killed in the seat as Faith was.

Knowing the big man would be back within moments, Dazz prepared, readying every weapon he had just in case and having to be quick thinking. Not a moment too soon, Priest once again showed his face, trying to storm towards Dazz again but his opponent was ready, quickly swerving to the right and turning in a complete circle as Priest sped past. Watching that tank-like vehicle storm ahead, Dazz kicked into gear and pushed his foot down again, back in action as every weapon he could muster without steering off the track fired towards the Grim Reaper, some hitting the target and others missing but Dazz didn't seem to care, enjoying the barrage he was making Priest suffer under while he used a free hand to unbuckle the leather straps in his seat, freeing himself from the safety harness and opening the door of the vehicle, feeling the wind lash against his arm and whistle past his ears, climbing to the edge so that he's standing almost outside the vehicle while keeping a hand on the steering wheel, steadying himself behind Priest then quickly pushing the boost button and leaping out just as it kicked into gear.

His body hit the ground with a harsh thud that sent an immediate jolt coursing through his body, rolling across the asphalt and hearing the Chaotic Messiah's boosting before catching a glimpse of his vehicle slamming into the back of the Grim Reaper and causing a massive fireball, the heat overwhelming even from this distance as he covered his head and turned away to avoid being burned or having shrapnel fly into his face. Once he felt it had died down, he rolled back, watching as the empty shells of the former vehicles rested against each other, the fire raging amongst the remains. He stood and held onto his ribs as he slowly limped towards the vehicles, gradually getting closer and inspecting the damage. Without warning though, he got sideswiped and knocked to the ground, a hand grabbing at him and dragging him back up to his feet as he saw the face of Priest staring at him in anger, somehow surviving the blast and ready for revenge.

A heavy right fist smashed into his jaw, another as Priest started to pound the life out of him, battering at his face then tossing him backwards against the still burning shell of the Chaotic Messiah. A fist to the gut caused Dazz to double over in pain as he had the wind knocked out of him with the follow up coming from an uppercut to the jaw that forced him back up and leaning against his vehicle. Dazz felt the warm steel against his aching spine, enjoying the mix of comfort from having his back straightened and bent slightly backwards as well as the throbbing that emanated from the same area for exactly the same reason, staring at Priest and wondering when and where the next blow would come. He didn't have to wait long, another straight punch to the face rocking him and causing him to fall to the ground, trying to crawl away as Priest started to use his boots to kick Dazz in the ribs, stalking him around the vehicle as he tried to crawl away in pain. Priest enjoying every moment as he wallowed in the agony he was causing Dazz, laying the boots to him with a sick smile on his face, following him to the front of the Chaotic Messiah.

Dazz climbing to his knees and pulling himself over the hood of the Chaotic Messiah, Priest with more jabs to his ribs and back causing him to wince and cry out in pain, agony etched all over his face but his mission was ongoing, still attempting to reach the driver's seat for reasons only he knew, Priest amused by the physical beating he was introducing Dazz to. Slowly but surely, Dazz reaches, his right arm draped inside and feeling the steering wheel, looking back at Priest who grabs his ankle, looking to drag him back and punish him some more. With fingers feeling all around inside the car, Dazz seemed happy and gave a smile before pushing a button he'd found by touch alone, lying completely still as a gurgling noise sounded. Priest's grip around his ankle loosened and Dazz slowly rolled over onto his back, laying across the hood of the Chaotic Messiah and staring at Priest, watching as he looked down at his own stomach and caught sight of the blade that had sprung from a hidden compartment of his opponent's car and pierced his abdomen. He slowly looked up at Dazz again, blood trickling from his mouth as he pulled himself off the blade and staggered backwards for a few steps before collapsing to the ground. Dazz sat up as much as possible, the pain surging through him as he caught sight of Priest now dead on the ground then collapsed back against the hood, a smile on his face knowing he'd survived another Death Race.

******



Claustrophobic
Crawl out of this skin
Heart explosive
Reach in, pull that pin

Fear thy name: extermination
Desecrate inhale the fire

So we cross that line
Into the grips
Total eclipse
Suffer unto my apocalypse

Deadly vision
Prophecy reveal
Death magnetic
Pulling closer still

Fear thy name: annihilation
Desolate inhale the fire

So we cross that line
Into the grips
Total eclipse
Suffer unto my apocalypse

My apocalypse... Go!

Crushing metal, ripping skin
Tossing body, mannequin
Spilling blood, bleeding gas

Mangle flesh, snapping spine
Dripping bloody valentine
Shatter face, spitting glass

Split apart
Split apart
Split apart
Spit
Spit it out

What makes me drift a little bit closer?
Dead man takes the steering wheel
What makes me know it's time to cross over?
Born to repeat until I feel

See through the skin, the bones they all rattle
Future and past they disagree
Flesh falls away, the bones they all shatter
I start to see the end in me

See the end in me...

Claustrophobic
Climb out of this skin
Heart explosive
Reach in, pull that pin

Violate, annihilate
All wounds unto my eyes
Obliterate, exterminate
As life itself denied

Fear thy name as hell awakens
Destiny inhale the fire

But we cross that line
Into the grips
Total eclipse
Suffer unto my apocalypse

Tyrants awaken my apocalypse
Demon awaken my apocalypse
Heaven awaken my apocalypse
Suffer forever my apocalypse

My Apocalypse - Metallica



******

The camera is fixated on the Penobscot Building in Detroit, Michigan with its uniquely shaped structure, slowly panning to the left and towards the sidewalk where Dazz is standing enjoying the sight of pedestrians passing by his location, looking out at the streets running around and between buildings. Cars and other vehicles of all types drive past with an alarming frequency to those not used to seeing so many people on the road, the Motor City living up to its nickname and reputation as Dazz lowers himself down to a seated position on the steps outside this 47 storey tower, resting down in jeans, an MCW t-shirt and a black leather jacket over the top, dark Armani sunglasses covering his eyes while his long brown hair gently blows in the breeze surging through the streets. Moving closer towards him, the camera focuses as he continues to stare out at the passers by without acknowledging the lens aimed right at him.

Dazz: So now I seem to have proven myself as a competent part of the MCW locker room, proven myself as the talented athlete I've been heralded as for over a decade and proven myself as a guy Jacob Laymon can not only trust with his company but as a guy that Jacob Laymon can turn to when he needs someone to truly represent what Motor City Wrestling is all about. Lets face a few facts here, in January 2003 I opened the Chaotic Wrestling Federation where we'd pride ourselves on having some of the very best talent in the world showing the world just what pro wrestling is all about and bringing prestige to our championships. From Faith to Priest, Ryan Coleman to Christian Connolly, Dark Rayne, Rob Thorn, Justice, Whitecloud. All of them proud to fly the flag. Fast forward to March 2007, the company's majority shareholder and owner Lord Phillippe DeMontfort sold off his stock in the company to Anthony Wallace who could've easily shut the whole thing down or tried to take the company into his own failed vision like Hollywood director Seth Payne tried to do, like my half brother Jason Stylez tried to do. Instead he offered to buy out the contracts of whichever talents wanted to work for his new vision and lo and behold, mere weeks after the last CWF pay per view event, MCW began opening its doors to fans to see CWF contracted talents like Priest and Faith, two people who can claim to share a common bond in being among the last CWF champions, plus also myself as General Manager helping to run the shows and be the middle man between management and talent.

That's precisely why I felt myself drawn to Laymon's cause to not only keep this place alive for those who wish to come here to compete against some of the very best in the business and for those already here to make their mark on a company I've put heart and soul into since its very beginnings. And now I've shown the world that MCW can rise up and overcome any obstacle put in front of it, taken down the so called Hostile Takeover at Deadly Conflicts over in England, allowed Jacob's company to shake off the likes of Denile Partis and Lilith Evans one Chaos Factor at a time to eradicate the opponents of MCW. But now we have several other challenges arising. One involving one of my tag team partners from Deadly Conflicts, involving my wife and involving someone I consider a friend.

Now what some may wonder is whether I'll be able to handle this situation, whether I'll be able to put aside the fact I'm against people I have no desire to hurt, no desire to maim and certainly no desire to destroy but since I'm in this contest against the three of them then I guess I have to do whatever I can to ensure that I walk away with the victory as I always do. Funny thing that, go back as far as you can to find my first MCW match back when I was helping run the show and follow every match I had to the present day, I haven't lost yet. Not by pin fall or submission anyway. You see, my first "loss" was due to me being eliminated in a battle royal and my second was actually a draw due to Priest's involvement when I took on Rayne Young for the World Heavyweight championship.

Which means that it's gonna be a daunting task for my opponents come Mayhem. Wouldn't be surprised if they all triple teamed me to try and get me out of the equation early so they even stand a chance because lets be honest - and no disrespect to anybody here - the mere fact I haven't lost a match officially yet makes me a target, the number one guy to be attacked and tossed out to ringside so the others can make it a triple threat and hope that I don't regain consciousness until after one of them has got themselves a lucky win and a chance to take on Angelica Jones for the Motor City championship. Not surprising really at all.

Axl Evermore is a guy who is all about the "any means necessary" method, someone who is used to victory, used to holding championship gold and if you forgot that just ask him, he'll tell you about it for weeks. Thing is Axl, right now I could care less about your IWC Cartel championships or whatever.....no wait, that implies I do care a little, let me rephrase. I don't give a damn whether you've held a championship belt or a Gucci belt, what matters is this week, this edition of Mayhem, this fatal four way where the winner takes on someone who's proven herself time and again inside the ring and did the same at Deadly Conflicts despite suffering a concussion. If you wanna talk titles, I could talk titles all day long and compare with you but the fact is, my 22 World Heavyweight championship reigns and 3 Undisputed championship reigns amongst all the others really don't matter when it comes to Mayhem because the sole focus is beating three other opponents and seeing who can come out on top and take on one of the Jones sisters for yet another title in future. Got that?

Thing is, I see a lot of myself in Axl, I really do. He's boastful of what he's done, I was and could be exactly the same whenever I damn well want to but I'm not going to because I can see what's more important in the here and now, I'd rather look at what I can do in my next match instead of using the past as my ticket to win, otherwise if that really worked do you really think I'd be sitting here talking to a camera and proving myself to the fans and management each and every time I set foot in the ring? Because honestly, with my reputation for success and being the very pinnacle of this industry, I could've walked right into MCW and been handed the World Heavyweight title instantly then sat back and rested on my laurels. Sure, I'd actually give this place a champion it can be proud of but the fact remains, I'd rather earn my chances with what I can do at every MCW show rather than sit reading out an encyclopedia of my past achievements in this business.

Speaking of achievements, my other opponents also have quite a few to their name too. Starting with you Priest. A World title reign in CWF that lasted almost as long as Christian Connolly and could've surpassed it had the company not been put on the shelf, leaving you as the final World Heavyweight champ in that place. Former Chaos champ, former Tag Team champ, former American champ, you name it, you've won it all, right? Only, it's not right is it? You've enjoyed over two years in MCW so far and have nothing to show for it but wins and losses, always coming up short in title opportunities. Why is that exactly? Some might say you were screwed out of your chances, others might say you just weren't ready, still more might say you're past your prime and can't hang with the top dogs of today. You know something though Priest? I'm not gonna buy into any of that, I've known you for too long, know that no matter what you always have a determination to be the very best, to be the king of the hill no matter where you go and as far as this match goes, I'm just gonna ignore what others say and test you for myself, see how you do on the night and figure out for myself what your game plan might be for this Mayhem, see whether or not you walk out with the title shot you've been itching for or walk out having to once again show why you deserve another chance.

I know what you're capable of though, I've seen it with my own two eyes, felt the effects and the aftermath when we went head on over the years. Remember those times Priest? Remember when we had to face off in a Chaotic Cage where the winner would walk out as the main guy in the company and the runner up would be granted the Hardcore strap as second prize, me losing my status as top dog but having never tapped I could be proud with the Hardcore belt? You didn't walk away with a title though. How about in Highway to Hell IV when me and you battled with three others to try and take the World Heavyweight championship away from Faith, ending up with neither of us emerging with gold. Or even when you defeated me one on one in 2006, when I beat you in an MCW Legends match just a few months ago. See I'm not afraid of you Priest, I'm not scared and I know exactly what you're capable of but unlike others who come up against you, I'm not gonna disrespect you. I'm gonna tell you straight up that you might pose the biggest threat to my chances of winning this match purely because I've been against you so many times that both of us now have a bit of an edge against the other due to familiarity.

Moving away from him though, there's someone I'm even closer to, someone who isn't my friend but my wife. Faith, I know you better than anyone, you can say the same about me and while your brother may tell you to be careful, I've seen you compete in ways that would make him shudder if he actually gave a damn enough to tune in and see your matches, otherwise if he had he might not be such an idiot and so naive to the toughness you possess. I was there when you beat the Hardcore Icon in the Hell's Basement, I was calling the match when you had a triangle ladder match for the Women's title, took you on when you accepted my open challenge for the World title and sure, you may have beat me to win it but if Nemesis hadn't interfered things might have had a different outlook.

Nevertheless though, you did it and retained for a number of months against tough opponents including the likes of Priest until Highway to Hell IV got the better of you. Now suddenly, here's your first chance at MCW gold since 2007 and while you may think you have a chance at winning, that chance will slowly decrease the longer the match goes on. While you've won matches since returning to MCW, none of those were as tough as the matches I've had since my return. You had easy victories, I had the likes of Jay Williams, Rayne Young, Hostile Takeover to take care of. While you may try and stab me in the back again, try to brush this off as an inevitable win like the matches you've become used to in the last month or two, not gonna happen. Come Mayhem, you, Priest, Axl, you'll all find yourselves in possibly the fight of your lives, as will I. While MCW may be coming home to Detroit, the Motor City, I will be coming home to my usual place as not only a number one contender to a championship but also coming home to yet another title reign. Doesn't matter if any of you wanna try to be dark, doesn't matter if you wanna try to be vicious, doesn't matter if you wanna come fully loaded. The only thing that matters is that one of us will walk away with another win, with another reason to be relied upon by Jacob Laymon to lead his company.......with another addition to our already accomplished careers.

And with that, once again, the camera fades out to black with nothing but the sound of car horns being sounded and the chatter of people walking by going about their business.

The End