time: 12:30, afternoon.

day: wednesday, the twenty third.

place: bailey's bay, bermuda. engel residence.

(Psychotic. Insane. Delusional. I could give you the dictionary definitons of my mind right now, but I'm too busy making up dreams in my head and believing them to be real. I sit in the living room next to my beloved wife, with whom I've talked to for hours and hours about what's been going on between us. We're watching a funny movie, since she loves comedies, and I'm in my favorite lounge chair dressed in tommy hilfiger blue jeans and an olive green polo shirt. Mia is wearing jeans herself with a yellow tanktop. There haven't been too many problems between us, but this is something big, something major that needs to get sorted out before shit hits the fan. It's up to me, and only me, and I guess that means seeing a therapist. I don't put much stock in them, but Mia says some of them are good and she's lined me up with a good one. Hopefully he can help me and fix the problem which exists in my head.)

(It's a lovely day today; blue skies, light winds, a touch of sun - but not too much. I hear my wife laugh some at the movie, but I'm not paying attention. I have too much on my mind, too much. I feel like I'm going through a photo album and recollecting all the memories from each picture. But in the back of my mind sits the fact that I have a wrestling match this Sunday, my first one in ACW to be exact. That's been so indistinct as of late that I probably won't even bother to train much for it, waste the energy working out, because the chances of me even concentrating one hundred percent are zero to none. Wrestling is the least of my worries these days, but I can remember when it was all I worried about. I can remember when I had a great life and my wife and I had no problems. I can remember when it was perfect and I was completely happy within my home and myself. But now? It's all skewed. It's all distorted, it's - I don't know what it is because I don't know what's wrong. For once in my life, I don't know what's wrong. That scares me.)

(I get up from my chair and I tell Mia that I'm just going to make a quick phone call. She nods at me and smiles, which I return the gesture with a kiss on her forehead. I walk into the kitchen and grab the cordless phone, instantly dialing a number that I've known for ages. The phone rings and a familiar voice comes over the line.)

Thunderwolf: Hey Matt, what's up?

(I had forgotten he had caller id, I was contemplating a prank call.)

virus: Eh, not much. Just want to make sure we're still cool and all, I know I've been a jerk.

Thunderwolf: Dude, don't worry about it, we're cool, I understand what's going on.

virus: Okay, okay. Sorry, I just feel really bad about what happened. I'm sorry I'm stressing you guys out, can you tell Enika I said that?

Thunderwolf: Okay, but she's heard it a thousand times already.

virus: Thanks a lot, talk to you later.

Thunderwolf: Peace.

(Click. I walk back into the family room and sit back down in my favorite chair. I just like making sure things are okay, I get so disorientated when things are out of line. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Who knows. Dustin said he understands what's going on, but he doesn't know what it's like. He can't understand what has happened to me.)

(No one can.)

Mia: Who did you call?

virus: Dustin - just needed to ask him something.

(On that note, I get up from my chair once more and step into the kitchen. I glance over to my camera on its tripod, sitting in the corner. I move it into an appropiate position and check the tape to make sure it's fresh. The tape is old. I take it out and put a new one in there, to which I take my seat at the table. Behind me? My beautiful backyard, the sun shining, and nature at its finest in Bermuda. I pick up the remote control to my video camera and hit the record button.)

virus: Well, here I am. Some of you might not know me, some of you might. Don't worry, soon enough everyone will be the latter. I was thinking about sparing all of you the introduction of myself, but then I thought to myself - what's the fun in that? Why not come out with the witty intros, long list of title history, and past 'heroes' I've crushed in my short, yet successful career? Protean hasn't opened his mouth yet, so I have really nothing else to talk about. So let's see, I started out in a small federation called UHWA, which was in the AoWF community. I was, to say the least, a rich little punk there. I had my fair share of good and bad matches, lost and won some, beat a few big names and no names. Some of you might remember Psychoduck, I went toe to toe with him a bunch of times and I'd say fifty percent of the time I came out on top. He was tough, I'll say.

I won a few titles in UHWA and had my big shot at AoWF 4 when I won the AoWF tag team titles with McCade, which afterwards he turned on me like the Mantis whore he is and joined the MoA. All love to ya, Ryan. The UHWA closed and I found myself over in AJWF and needless to say, I was successful there. I beat some big names, had some bad injuries, collected sumptuous amounts of fame, and well - did what I always do. I had to leave AJWF, though, because I injured my knee badly. Well, that and the Front Office wasn't exactly full of competence, but what front office is? I had a victory at Fall From Grace when I beat Stanford for the King of Extreme title. You know, that awesome as fuck belt that no one really cared about except a few people? I went through 3 people in hellacious matches to get that belt and made it more famous than any Fley or Psychoduck could ever do. So yeah, I've had my fair share of success stories. I had a stint in EW, but that fed was a fluke. I wanted to give up wrestling altogether, it wasn't there for me anymore. I tried pr:V, but due to personal reasons on my family's behalf and mine, I couldn't continue there.

So that brings me here to ACW. Yeah. I can feel it. This is where my career turns around. This is where I stop fleeing from federations because of the front office, injuries, or family emergencies. This is where I belong, this kind of atmosphere. I can't guarantee wins or losses, I can't guarantee titles, I can't guarantee conquest, but I can guarantee every single person this: you'll get my best. What else can I offer? I can't offer anything else, every good wrestler knows that. I've been around this business for quite some time, I've had a lot of experience and you can't go around blabbing to other people you're gonna do this, this, and that. It's just not worth the energy because your actions speak louder than words.

Ok. I'm done lecturing. It makes me feel older than I want to be.

(I take a deep breath and stop for a moment, trying to think about what to say next. What is there to say? I could just tell everyone that I'm the best there is, was, and ever will be - but that cliche was overplayed a million times in mid to late 90s. I don't know, I hope I think of something.)

But, to no avail, my first match in my humble and indifferent return is against none other than the world champion himself. I mean, goodness gracious, I wanted a match against someone of decent caliber, but I get Protean? More than likely a main event match against the community champion himself? I feel so grateful, so fortunate, so..

bored.

The VIPs probably planned this nice match for me for my return because I'm a respected wrestler and I have a name for myself, so why not put him against the World Champ? Then, when I think I have it made and I've got Protean rolled up for the one, two, three - some reject from SiD comes into the ring and hits me on the head with a curling iron - I've seen it a hundred times.

Typical.

Like I said, I'm bored. Let's keep SiD out of this Protean and keep it mono y mono, capiche? I really appreciate you're trying to keep that oh-so-important record going for yourself - what is it, twelve or something now? But, I want you to beat me, if you do, because of your capabilites, not by some cheap shot from God knows who. And I understand you might be the kind of guy that doesn't even allow that shit to happen because you MUST beat everyone with your capabilities, which is perfectly fine with me, but I'm just laying down some ground rules here because like I said - it's a broken record.

Also, I don't even know you. Don't want to know you, don't even have the drive to get to know you, but right now all you are is just another wrestler looking for another win that might do anything to make sure it happens. In this day and age, cheap happens, almost too much. I've seen it happen, I've experienced it. I've been screwed out of many matches and well, I don't want any of that here.

Maybe you run the show, maybe you say who goes and who doesn't, but if you want any form of prosperity that you haven't already achieved here, I'd suggest keeping it clean and fair, because the day after neither one of us will have anything to bitch about. I don't cry if I lose fair and square; I'm not a Charm.

(Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Who cares, right?)

Moving along, I'm not out to be the best in the world like I was before. I'm not out to dominate and control everything living and non in ACW. I'm just here, doing my part, receiving a paycheck, and wrestling to the best of my ability. The "fed domination" fad has gone out of style, now it's like "just shut the fuck up and wrestle". I want to win, I don't know who wouldn't, but if I don't - it's really not a big deal. Either way, my talent, whether I win or lose, will be recognized. My skills, whether I win or lose, will be recognized. That's just standard, that's the kind of finesse I bring to the ring. I'm sure you can handle that, hell I even heard you put Dustin's shoulders to the mat for the three-count.

Hey, ACW? Don't be impressed. No one's unbeatable. Keep that in mind, Seldon.

(Eh, maybe that didn't come out the way I wanted it to. Oh well. I stretch out my arms and release a tiring yawn that wears me out. Maybe I should nap this afternoon, then do a bit of training here and there. I might as well, I can't go into this cold-turkey.)

The rest is up to you. I'll do what I always do, I'll give the audience exactly what they want, right down to every armbar or punch. When the time comes, we'll see who's on top.

(I pick up the remote control and hit stop. The tape stops recording and I move the camera back into its corner, taking the tape out of course. Mia comes into the picture and gives me a hug from behind. I rub my hands on her arms and turn around, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I'm glad she's back.)