time: noon.

day: september twenty-seventh; oh-five.

place: Ma Fischer's Italian Restaurant; Tucker's Town

(How can you enjoy a weekend knowing that on Tuesday you have to fly to Chicago to work out a deal to get your daughter back? Honestly, if you can have a blast and celebrate weekend fun with that on your conscience, you're a better person than I am. I've been a wreck, a complete wreck. I'm in pain, both mentally and physically. I've been worried sick about her, I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about what they're doing to her, or what they have done to her. I can't even begin to fathom how terrified she must be, unless she's completely calm because she's already been through bullshit like this before.)

(And to think I actually told Murdock I was going to give him my best on Saturday. I fooled him, myself, and everyone that watched that. That wasn't anything near my best, all I could think about was my daughter. I'd apologize to Erik for the lack of sportsmanship I showed him and giving him a mediocre match, but what's going on in my life stays people the people I trust and love and it goes no further.)

(Hell, I haven't even told Joe. I wonder how pissed he's going to be. Come to think of it, I haven't even told Dustin or Enika; I'm in for a rude awakening, I'm sure.)

(I just don't want everyone involved and I want to get this done as quickly as possible. I want to forget this ever happened and if I have to get bloody in order to save her, which I plan to, the less people know about it, the better off I'll be. I mean, you can't exactly wrestle and be wanted for murder at the same time, it just doesn't work. It's like being a football star and then being accused of murdering your wife, but then again...he wasn't proven guilty. Hm. Maybe I can get away with bringing these fuckers to justice, my own justice. My own revenge.)

(Revenge is now spelled M-A-S-S-A-C-R-E.)

(And I'll turn Lake Michigan red with their blood.)

(Mia and I both sit at a friendly-atmosphered restaurant, awaiting another party. Mia is dressed in jeans, a brown fancy belt, and a light green sleeveless polo shirt. She's got some sneakers on and her hair is gorgeous, brown with very dazzling highlights of blonde. I'm wearing nothing special, really; just some cargo shorts, a dark green Gatorade polo that I got for doing some promotional work with them, and Jesus sandals, as I like to call them.)

(A waiter comes by and asks us for a refill on our drinks, we both tell them we're fine. I twirl with my ice a bit, very nervously and panicky. Mia isn't a bit flustered, but she's trying to be happy and cheerful. I'm slightly slouched in my chair, my head hung slightly low. I notice a couple walk through the door, a couple I've known for ages. The woman is dressed in a pair of capri pants with perfect sock-sandal combination, and a tank-top. Her hair is pulled up for the occasion, not trying to impress anyone or look fancy in this kind of town. It's so laid back here, yet I feel like I've got the Sears Tower on my back. The man is decked out in Hilfiger cargos, dark blue Nautica t-shirt, and some Lugz. Enika waves as the hostess working at the front greets them and we wave back.)

virus: I can't believe you don't want me to say anything to them, they're going to find out one way or another. Don't you think? I mean, they're our best friends.

Mia: I just want to keep this in our family.

virus: They are our family, dear.

Mia: I know...I just...well, if the mood is right, we'll tell them. Okay? I promise. I just don't want Dustin getting all of his friends and such and making this a big deal. We're handling it, right? You're going to pay them.

virus: They won't live to enjoy it.

Mia: Matthew!

(Enika and Dustin arrive at the table, with cheerful faces and the aroma of happiness. Everyone greets one another in their own ways and the cheerful couple take their seats, picking up menus.)

Enika Engel: Hey-hey-hey, and how's the fam doing on this lovely Monday morning?

Mia: We're doing great!

virus: Yeah. I've got to go out of town on some...some business today. We're doing okay. How are you two?

Enika Engel: Just dandy... well, cept Dustin. He won't quit bitching about his chest... or for that matter keep from messing with it.

Thunderwolf: Eh, you try taking that many shots to the chest with a lead pipe, you'll complain too.

Enika Engel: But I've got boobies... you wouldn't want those bruised, would you? I couldn't jiggle them for you anymore.

Thunderwolf: I suppose not. So what's on the menu for today?

(We all pause for a moment as we look at our menus.)

Mia: Well, it's our treat today, so whatever you'd like. But this time there IS a forty dollar limit per person, Dustin.

virus: Yeah, remember that time we treated you guys out for dinner and it was like two hundred bucks just for your half? Yeah, neither do I, but Mia does. And dude, how's your knee? Getting any rehab for that?

Thunderwolf: Actually, it's not bothering me that much. I mean it's bruised up real nice, but luckily I got off pretty easy.

virus: Reminds me of when I injured my knee pretty badly in AJWF. Luckily I got it treated right away, but damn did it take a beating at Collision and the week before it. Anyway, we didn't know what you'd want for drinks, so just tell the waiter what you want when he comes by.

Mia: You mean 'she'.

(I take a sip of my watered-down coke.)

virus: What?

Mia: It's a she, Matt.

virus: No joke? Well, when SHE comes by, then. Damn, looked like a guy to me.

(The waitress, I guess, comes by as Enika and Dustin are looking at the menu. Mia and I have our menus down, knowing what we want already.)

Waitress: Hello, I'm Rachel. Can I get you two something to drink?

(Dustin nods at Enika, signifying that he wants the usual.)

Enika Engel: Um...one lemon iced tea, and one sweetened, please...

Waitress: Very well. Is everyone ready to order?

Mia: We are, but I think they need a minute or two. What do you guys think?

Enika Engel: Sure, if you don't mind ma'am.

Waitress: Of course not.

(She leaves and goes to put in their order for drinks. I shuffle in my seat a bit and I look like I'm about to burst. I can't hold it in any longer. They need to know.)

virus: Sis...Dustin...Mia and I have something urgent to tell you guys.

Mia: Um...no we don't, Matt. Not now.

virus: Yes, now.

(Dustin cocks an eyebrow up and enika scoots forward, planting both her elbows on the table.)

Enika Engel: If this is another retirement speech, save it, you'll be back in two weeks.

virus: God knows I should retire after these last two weeks, but no it's not that. Something horrible happened last week Tuesday. I feel horrible for keeping it from you guys, but you've got to understand how quiet this must remain. If this were to go public, the press and everything would go crazy.

Mia: Matt, are you sure you want to do this? You haven't even told Joe, I think he might be as pissed as you for that as is for the other thing.

Enika Engel: You didn't piss in our pool again... did you? Wait... why would you tell... nevermind, forget I said anything. What is it?

virus: Well, let me put it this way: it's two thousand one and Dr. Demise, not Lex, is running the show.

Alexia's been taken.

Enika Engel: That's not even funny Matt! I mean we heard the rumors too... but seriously, don't tease about something that serious. She's your kid, imagine if something like that really would happen to her again.

Thunderwolf: I gotta agree with her on this one man, not cool.

(I look into Mia's eyes as she looks into mine. I wish this was a joke.)

virus: Remember that time I ran over to your house after waking up next to Mia, whom I thought passed away? Remember how I angry I got when you told me she was okay? I thought you were joking with me and messing with me, but you weren't.

We're not joking, dude. Here. Check this out.

(I hand Dustin the note left by the culprits.)

virus: It was pinned to Alexia's guitar teacher, who was lying in a puddle of his own blood. I went to pick her up from guitar, but she wasn't there. That's all I found.

(Suddenly, I see his face go from perfectly-colored, to ghost white. Happy, to angry.)

Thunderwolf: Why didn't you tell us, Matt?! Goddamnit, why didn't ANYBODY tell us about this?! Matt, we're fucking family, we have a right to know!

Mia: Dustin, we just wanted to keep it as secret as possible. The police don't even know, and they're supposedly helping with the investigation. The fact is they aren't doing shit, but we are. We want to handle this as quickly and discreetly as possible. It's not that we don't trust you and 'nika, we just didn't want you to make a big deal out of this.

virus: It IS a big deal, it's a huge fucking deal, but I didn't want you calling your guys, or even Styx for that matter, to look into this. I wanted to take care of this. I hope you understand. But, we are telling you because you're right, you do have a right to know. I'm going to Chicago today to settle it. I have my instructions and...yeah, he'll get his money, but he won't live to enjoy it.

(Dustin looks a bit confused, maybe a bit torn. Frustrated, yet sympathetic.)

Enika Engel: They obviously don't need our help, right? I mean my little niece out there god only knows where, and we're the absolute LAST people to know about it. Hell, the fucking PHW rumor mill got a hold of it before we did, and that's what we took it for, was a rumor, because naturally the two of you left us out in the dark. I can't believe either of you... this... this is ridiculous.

Thunderwolf: Yeah, not to mention that this whole one man army bullshit of yours? It's gonna land you in a body bag.

Enika Engel: Exactly. You're gonna go out there and get yourself killed, Matt. You're gonna lose your family's money, your niece, and your life. Because you're too pig-headed to just admit you were in over your head... on something as serious as this.

(Enika stands up and takes Dustin's hand, getting him to stand up as well.)

Enika Engel: We're through.

Mia: Wait, WAIT. You guys, please. Don't go.

virus: Yes, please. That Rumor Mill? I don't even know how that started, that wasn't our doing. I'm going to end it though in a future promo. I will tell the world that my family is safe. Although a lie, it will help protect us. And as for this "one man army bullshit", it sounds ludicrous, but it's not. I'll make sure my daughter is safe and sound, before I start anything.

And my family is taken care of, whether I live or not. I'm sorry we kept you in the dark about this, but we both agreed it was the best for the time being. Honestly, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to tell you guys, we had to tell you. The FBI wanted us to do nothing about this and let them handle it fully. They wanted us to stay silent about it, but we had to tell you guys.

Mia: Exactly. Please, don't go. We want your help.

(Dustin and Enika stand for a bit, thinking about what's been said. Enika gives Dustin a concerned look, which he returns with a nod. He throws an arm over her shoulder.)

Enika Engel: We'll do anything.

Thunderwolf: Just... don't shut us out of your lives like that next time. Like she said, we'll do anything... just as long as you don't put yourself in any immediate danger, Matt. I don't know what any of us would do without you, or Alexia.

Enika Engel: Are you sure we can't get our men on this, though? I mean, Styx is in expert at this sort of thing according to Dustin.

virus: Really, it's fine. If you want to let Styx know about this and maybe through his connections he can get some information, please do so. But I'd really like to take this into our own hands and handle it within our immediately family. We love you guys to death, there's no doubt about it, but I don't want to do anything that might jeopardize my daughter's life. They might get suspicious or maybe one of your guys might get spotted, and they'll kill her. I don't know how serious or professional these guys are, but from the looks of it - they leave no traces. However, we will tell you if we need anything and I REALLY appreciate your concern and help. I really do.

Enika Engel: Okay Matt, we understand. Dustin will get in touch with Styx, but remember we're only a phone call away if you need anything.

Thunderwolf: Definitely, bro.

(Both parties nod at a sense of understanding and the waiter comes back to take our orders. The scene slowly fades...)

time: three thirty, late afternoon.

day: september twenty-seventh; oh-five.

place: Engel Residence; Bailey's Bay, Bermuda.

(My flight leaves at six p.m, which means I have an hour or so to pack. Packing takes me like fifteen minutes, though. I shouldn't be there more than a couple days and well, if I'm there any longer, chances are I won't be coming back. Sadly. I'm having my weapons and ammo shipped secretly to my hotel room that I have set up, because I don't want to alarm Mia or any airport police for that matter. It's good when you know people who will do those kinds of things for you, you know? In case situations like these arise when you have to deal with people who like to kidnap and hold people for ransom. I pull the video camera out of the corner and place it in its usual spot, facing the backyard - which is lit up beautifully today - out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I take my place at the end of the kitchen table, my back to the windows. I look into the camera, remember I put in a fresh video tape last night. I grab the control and hit record.)

virus: Obviously, I've got some explaining to do - to fans, to the PHW office, and especially to Murdock. Hey, I've got time, even though I should really stick to Belmont since he's my opponent next week. He hasn't said a word, so he'll just have to wait. You're probably wondering why I didn't break that hold, Erik. You figure a guy like me, a man who tries to wrestle with honor now-a-days, wouldn't do that kind of thing. Shocking, wasn't it? Well, that was the idea.

You see Erik, that was my second match in the PHW and my third one in the past two and a half years. Most of you already know that, so do you honestly think I was going to let you walk out of there with a valuable win over me? Nah. I know I'm not up to par with my full potential and I'm still shaking off the rust, but I just wasn't going to let it happen, Erik. I wasn't going to let you even think about that chance of pinning me. I let Vern do it my first match in and he got off light, except the broken nose of course. You'd figure "Why not lose to Erik? He's the CHAMP! You wouldn't lose THAT much credibility, he's a great wrestler!" But you and I both know that's not true. You might be the champ, but as for a great wrestler?

You're better than Vern, but you're not great. I won't stand to possibly lose to you when I know I could out-wrestle you without breaking a sweat.

If this was two thousand two, you wouldn't have lasted five minutes with me - I guarantee it. Just wait, Murdock. I'll be that good again, or maybe even better - and then where will you be? Still trying to startle me with your "I'm bigger than you, I'll break you in half" speech? God, I hope not. You'd bore me to death and probably lose every other fan you have.

So yeah, I ended the match. Granted, I technically lost, but you never pinned me. I made that decision to disqualify myself, I made that decision to make you suffer. Where was your ultimate power then, Murdock? Why didn't you just kick me off like someone kicking away a dog from their leg? I'll tell you why - you were too busy whining to the referee that your back was about to crack.

You see, technique. Knowing where to put the most pressure on different areas of your opponent. That's something you lack, my friend. Sure, you knocked me around a bit, you threw me around in the ring. But who was left standing?

I was. You couldn't stand, remember?

(I chuckle to myself.)

virus: Don't worry Erik, we'll meet again in the ring, whether you're champ or not.

And next time, you're going to need a lot more than a five second count to escape me.

(I cough a little bit, showing a bit of weakness in the ribs. Yes, bruised ribs. They're always fun, but hey - he doesn't have to know that.)

virus: Now - let's move on, shall we? I'd say Jeremiah Belmont, but what do I have to say to him? Not much, so let's talk about something else. That one group that likes to speak so highly of themselves, but they're degrading as we speak. WKMF. Who do we have left in this group anyway? There's Lazarus, Vern, and Ricky Jones. If I'm missing anybody, please don't bother to speak up because I could really care less. Let's just stick with these three for right now.

Lazarus - I've got to admit, man, your match last Saturday was pretty good. I enjoyed watching you and Silvio go at it, but I'm really damn glad Silvio came out on top. Your cocky attitude got knocked the fuck around like a ragdoll, bro. Hey, someone's got to do it, right? It was Iman Sain the week before and now Silvio. Who's next after this week? Marcus Troy? You just never know. I wouldn't be surprised if he went up against you, beat you, and out-classed you, because let's face it, you don't have much class to begin with. I'd pay money to see Troy beat the shit out of you, but then I'd think about that for a second - why would I pay money when I could just do it myself? I'll see you in the ring someday and trust me, I won't be as calm and considerate as Silvio was.

Vern and Ricky - you know what, you two really need to grow the fuck up. What you guys and Corey did to Iman Sain and Jaxson last week was beyond fucking stupidity. You guys must get your jollies out of ending people's careers with the crack of a steel chair, don't you? Were you guys THAT sore about Corey getting his ass handed to him by Iman last week? I mean, Jesus Christ. Why don't you two just go around and start breaking everyone's elses legs? Then, maybe you three will be the only people who can physically wrestle and thus claim your domination of PHW! Yeah, real fucking smart.

Sure, you pulled a cheap victory over Jaxson and Iman, but most of the other time you can't get it done in the ring. So you resort to group attacks and beatdowns post-match, or causing matches to break out into madness. You just don't understand the concept and sportsmanship of wrestling and that's why...that's why you will never get anywhere. You will never be threatening. You'll fade. You can't build a legend by going around and beating people up and taking them permanently out of wrestling. People will hate you for it; they'll never respect you.

But then again, you three probably don't care. That's fine, though. Twenty years down the road, your names in this business won't even be spoken of, yet mine will be on the tip of everyone's mind. Still.

WKMF is fading, slowly but surely. Exit Music is in control. Nevermind the Dynasty or the almost-defunct Coven.

EM is the kind of group that creates legacies and champions, something fortunately WKMF cannot do.

(A grin to the camera. It's always good to boost the group. It's not like I'm lying, because I'm not.)

virus: Yes, finally, we've come to Jeremiah Belmont. Hey, I just want to say congratulations on your match last week, when you were pinned by Natalie Ayres. I mean, come on dude. You've been here awhile, haven't you? Ayres's debut match and she pins you. More power to her, I guess. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of vampire or something? Why didn't you just bite her? You weren't unconscious, I don't think.

Alright, alright. I won't make fun of you for that anymore, but still - you've got to admit it's pretty damn funny, huh? I'm not the only here that thinks that. Well hey, we're both coming off back to back losses, so I feel for you. I lost to Vern two weeks ago and decided to DQ myself last Saturday against Murdock for reasons I've already said. Maybe I can't really talk, but maybe I can - because I come from a big history of success in a community that actually mattered. You? I don't know where you come from or what you've done and I don't care. I've had the opportunity to see you wrestle twice and I'm not impressed. Please, try and bring your a-game, if you can. If you're too melancholy to show up, then you're really going to piss me off.

And I might just find whatever cave you hide in during the day and drag your ass out into the sunlight.

You can be rest assured, though, you'll have my a-game. I promise you this week is going to be when I come back from whatever below average level of skill I was at. This upcoming week will be my ressurection, my renaissance, my revolution. And guess what? You're going to help, Belmont. Whether you like it or not, you're going to help. I'm going to out-class and out-wrestle you like you've never been before.

I'll make sure you don't come out on top, one way or another. I can't promise a technicality victory, but I can promise that I'll be standing after the match. And no, you won't find me using any illegal means to do so, as I try to keep my fights fair and clean. But don't push me, Belmont. Now is not the week. You REALLY don't want my bad side.

Ask Psychoduck about that, if you can find him. Hell, tell me where he is if you can find him, too.

I'm the toughest guy you'll going to face here in the PHW. When I bring my a-game to the ring, I have complete control. Control is the number one thing in a wrestling match and if you lose that, then your chances of winning decrease dramatically. You do know that, right? I mean, from what I've seen, you never gain any control in your matches. You float through them, trying to reverse anything you can and survive. That's the key word: survive, because you look like you just want to survive your matches, not win them.

I hope you can change that mentality and give me a challenge this week, because if it's just survival you're hoping for, then you're fucked.

(I smile once more and reach for the remote control, turning off the video. I take the tape out and put it on the counter as usual, then tuck the camera back in its corner. I walk into my room and begin to pack for my trip. It's four ten, I've got plenty of time. I bust out a small suitcase, put some underwear, socks, an outfit, and the usual accessories - toothbrush, toothpaste, shaver, and some deodorant. Baby, I'm ready to go. I slide my checkbook in between my underwear and socks. I'm still decked out in my cargo shorts and dark green polo shirt. I walk into the family room and see my wife napping on the couch.)

(She's so beautiful, I love her to death. I pull the note I had written for her out of my pocket and place on the coffee table next to the couch. I give her a kiss on the head and walk to the front door. I open the door and close it behind me, locking it for good measure. I put my suitcase in the passenger side and hop into the vette. Soon enough, I'm driving down the main street, heading for the airport. It's time.)

time: seven forty five, chicago time; evening.

day: september twenty-seventh; oh-five.

place: taxi cab - 97th street.

virus: I need to get to the Embassy Suites off Water Street, please.

Taxi Driver: Sure, no problemo.

(My phone rings. I look at the caller id - blocked. I know who it is.)

virus: Yeah? I'm in a cab right now heading for the hotel. Yeah...yeah, I just got in. Flight was a bit bumpy. You've got the stuff? Okay....okay. Embassy Suites off Water. Meet me in the lobby men's room in twenty, okay?

Taxi Driver: I would say twenty five, sir.

virus: Make that twenty five minutes. (I hang up the phone and put it back in my pocket.) Thanks.

Taxi Driver: No problemo, senor.

(Twenty five minutes passes and I find myself getting out of the cab and paying the driver the amount due, please a little extra for the time tip. I grab my suitcase and walk into the lobby. I ask a woman at the front desk where the bathroom is and she points across the floor to the hallway. I thank her and make my way down there. I walk into the restroom and the man I need to see is standing at the sinks, a bag tucked underneath them.)

virus: Anyone else in here, Charlie?

(He says no and I lock the door behind me.)

Charlie: Here's the stuff. Same price as usual?

virus: That and a little bonus for the short notice.

Charlie: That's not necessary, Mr. Engel.

(A stern look.)

virus: I insist.

(He takes the money and I grab the bag underneath the sink. I check it out and everything that should be in it, is. I nod to Charlie and unlock the bathroom door, now holding two pieces of luggage. I walk up to the front desk. I tell the woman I have a reservation and I show her my Driver's License. I pay for the room right there with a credit card and she hands my two room keys. I make my way to the elevators and head up to the fifth floor. I find my room and open it up, noticing it's lack of color and taste. Oh well. I throw my bags on the bed and immediately order some Scotch. I'm nervous as hell, wouldn't you be?)

virus: I need some Scotch, please. Yes, room five eighty six. The name is Engel. Just bill me. In fact, bring up two bottles.

(Me, who rarely drinks, needs two bottles. Unlikely, but it would make a nice present for Joe to help ease the yelling when I end up telling him what has happened. A few mionutes pass and there's a knock on my door. Man, that was fast. I answer the door and a man holding two bottles of scotch, with Embassy Suites glasses and a bucket of ice on a tray stands at the door. I let him in as he places the stuff on my table. I pull out some money to tip him, but he turns around and shoots me with something. It doesn't hurt...)

(But...everything's...so...blurry. I can't make out what it is, but I don't...what's going on?! I can't stand. I can't...I fall onto my bed and eventually pass out.)

(I'm sorry, baby.)