time: evening; six twenty seven p.m.

day: october twelfth; oh-five.

place: the outskirts of lowell, massachusetts.

(I asked for a mid-size car and they give me the smallest piece of junk they own. "Oh, we're sorry Mr. Engel, but we've got all of our mid-size cars in reserve right now." I don't understand it. I gave them two days notice and I still couldn't get a decent car, instead I'm stuck with a two thousand one Ford Escort. Life has its ironies.)

(Rental car companies are the worst people to deal with now-a-days, they're more vicious and snotty than an up-scale restaurant in Chicago or New York. They have no right to be and they should have enough cars to cover their weekly business and then some. That's what running a business is all about, making sure you have enough product to supply your average weekly profits and then some. People just don't know these days.)

(I still haven't heard word from the kidnappers. Those Aryan bastards think they can mess with me; well, when you mess with the bull, you get the horns. Isn't that what they say?)

(I know the pieces fit, because I watched them tumble down.)

(I finally find the place I'm looking for as it comes into sight over the horizon. Being on some hick road out in the middle of no where doesn't really fancy me, but I've been here and done that. The compound, as I'd like to call it seeing as how it's a massive landscape of buildings and land, comes into direct view on the left side of the road. The sun is setting to my left. It's almost beautiful.)

(I pull into the cemented driveway and make my way to the house-part of the compound. I park the crummy car near the front of the house and get out, grabbing something out of the passenger seat. I put it in my pocket and shut the door. I'm wearing some baggy, loose-fit jeans with Sketcher's steel toe boots. I'm also decked out in my LeineLodge teal hoodie, with a New England Patriots fitted hat on - backwards, of course - to fit the location. It looked like a sweet hat when I saw it at the Boston airport, so I picked it up.)

(I'm a Packers fan, though - so wearing this hat is like having premarital sex if you're a Catholic. I'm going to Hell.)

(I walk up to the front door and give it a solid knock. A few minutes pass and I knock on the door again and it suddenly opens. I see no one behind it, no one around. I step in, noticing a vast and empty lobby in front of me. I hear a voice from another room, calling me. I follow it and make my way into the room.)

(In the room, there's a man confined to a wheelchair. He's bald, rugged, and seems to be in his mid fiftys for age. It looks like he's suffering from some disease, but I couldn't tell you. I'm not a trained doctor. He turns around, wheelchair and all, and faces me.)

Handicapped Man: Please, have a seat Matthew.

(I nod my head and take a seat on the nearby sofa. He backs away from the couch a bit, motorizing his wheelchair to the best of his ability, and faces it toward me. The door in the room closes, as I watch him push the button for its control. Cute toy.)

Handicapped Man: Well, Lex told me you were coming, but I didn't expect you so soon.

VIRUS: Really? I guess you've never had your daughter kidnapped before, Nitro.

Nitro: No, I can't say I've had that displeasure, seeing as how I have no daughter. But you must admit, as sickening as it is, it is an effective tactic to get what you want. Or at least it used to be.

VIRUS: Yeah? What'd you get out of Joe then? Besides a few jollies from Tara? Nothing. There was no point except to cause havoc. Just like Alexia's second kidnapping is now. It's thrown my family into turmoil. Sure, maybe they want money, or maybe they want her as a fucking slave. I don't know.

(I turn my head away, feeling more and more flustered.)

Nitro: I don't pretend to understand all of what Alex does, but I will say this, he obviously does have a method to his madness. Everything he has done has been for the single minded goal of gaining a sense of normalcy. I suppose he came closest to that with me, but that's all in the past now. I understand you came here looking for information.

VIRUS: Yes...information. I visited Lex in prison and he told me you'd have some information, perhaps some useful documents of the bastards who are holding my daughter. Evidence to bring them down. Evidence for the government.

(That or Lex was just having his way with me and sent me up here to be killed myself.)

Nitro: Ah yes. Funny story behind that. Turns out one of my five erstwhile sons....was it William, I think.....oh well, whoever it was, turns out to be a member. Seeing as I like to keep track of my students and family, I kept tabs on him. I have a few things discussing plots to overthrow the government, tax records, even some signals talking about the extortion of money from you. Wiretaps. E-Mails. That sort of thing. It's all in the box over in the corner.

But please, before you go, you must simply tell me how Styx's new heir to the future is doing. As you can see, I don't get out much. I understand your sister is currently seeing young Dustin.

VIRUS: He's doing fine...and yeah, they're together. I swear...from Lex to you...it's the same. Dustin is Dustin...and will always be Dustin. I appreciate the information. I'll leave a gift in place of the documents to even it off.

(And that's being generous.)

Nitro: Well there's a reason for that. Dustin is quite simply an intriguing individual. Always has been. Of course, it was made to be that way. But I digress...

VIRUS: You digress? Oh please, do explain yourself. What makes him so damn special, really? Sure, he's my best friend and I'd do anything for him, but he's a regular guy. He's had his fair share of bumps and bruises. He's good at what he does. He's got people who care about him. He's not an act of God or anything. He's not a miracle. He's earned where he's at, he's no better than the rest of us who've done that as well.

Except my daughter had her hand chopped off last week because of some right-wing bullshit terrorist group that chose to fuck with the wrong family.

(A somewhat uneasy glance from Nitro comes my way. Sometimes I think he can feel the anger I have stored up inside me.)

Nitro: Well....you're partly right. He wasn't an act of God. But..

Let's just say that there are somethings not even Lex needs to know about. Secrets that, I'm sad to say, will follow me and Styx to our respective graves. But again, I digress. As far as you go, you're not so much a regular guy yourself. I mean, when you really think about it, you'd be willing to do anything for your family. Perceived or otherwise.

In that way, you and Lex really aren't that much different. He just chooses to walk on a darker side of life than you. Hell, if you were a few years older and a tragedy away, you'd probably have been one of the kids who I trained WITH Demise. Might have even been his tag partner, might have been the guy he turned into Diablo. Who knows. It's funny how a few years can just make a difference....you know I...

VIRUS: Trained with Demise and you? Yeah. I'd definitely condition myself right next to the same man who had his mind set out for a long time to destroy my brother's family. Does that make any sense to you? I won't walk the darker side and Lex and I are completely different. I really don't understand what you're telling me, Nitro. I love my family too much and I will get them all back, slowly but surely.

There will not be a repeat of what happened to Joe's family. Ever.

(The determination in my eyes speaks volumes.)

Nitro: And who's gonna stop it from happening? You? That's laughable. You above all else should know that sometimes there are things that are out of our control, either for good or bad.

Did you get a bone thrown to you from Psychoduck, or did someone throw a bone at Psychoduck first?

Was it odd that at first you were fixated on Duncan Aries, and then he mysteriously disappears for no apparent reason? Was it fate or just pure dumb luck that a rain-soaked girl named Mia walked into your life?

You tell me.

VIRUS: It was...fate. It has to be. We love each other so much, we're meant for each other.

What are you trying to do, Nitro? I don't care about Duncan Aries or Psychoduck anymore. They are history. I haven't seen Duncan's ugly face in forever and Martyn just disappeared on me. They vacated me, not the other way around. That's their problem, not mine. And I will stop this all from happening. You think it's laughable, I think it's inevitable.

Nitro: Me? Just posing a philosophical question. The ramblings of a forgotten old man that no one ever sees anymore. But it's just a point of note that, like you, Lex has points of relevance to his past as well. Was it fate he was there that morning when Dustin's parents got brutally murdered in front of his eyes? Fate that he came to my doorstep? Fate that his wife and daughter were burned to the ground? Fate that he found what he was looking for all these years, family, and then watched it taken away from him?

If so....then fate can be oh so cruel, and my advice to you is to pray that it never turns so on you. If not, and it's just some random action of a few old puppeteers who wanted to keep the strings as long as possible, well, then it's always been out of his....and maybe out of your, hands.

(Silence for a moment. Trying to take in what he just said, it's almost impossible.)

VIRUS: Fate only stretches so far, Nitro. Control stretches a lot farther. Believe it or not, I am in control. I saw Lex in prison. I'm here seeing you now, getting the information I need. Who do you think is really going in there after them? Me...or the FBI that doesn't have any idea what I'm doing?

Nitro: Did it ever cross your mind that the FBI already knows what's going on?

VIRUS: Don't put much stock into them. They might have an eye and an ear on almost everything, but I have an eye and an ear on them. It's good to know some friends here and there. They're working their own case. They don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing.

(He pauses for a moment, fixated on something about me. What? You sick, demented old man; what do you want?)

Nitro: You sound like you're trying to convince yourself of that. Funny thing, control. One day you have it, the next you realize it was all an illusion. My opinion? It's all one big game, and there's always someone higher up than you pulling the strings.

Now, let's talk about the other thing you came here for....the job you thought you had to do to take revenge on me for my son's....and Lex's transgressions against your family. You thought you could just simply dispose of the problem by cutting off the head of the snake, right? Isn't that why you have that gun in your front pocket?

(I freeze for a moment. Nervous. Caught. Then, regain control. I feel calm, assertive. I know what I'm doing.)

VIRUS: Oh, you mean this?

(I pull out my nine millimeter black Beretta, loaded with a clip. I cock the hammer back. I love that sound.)

VIRUS: Maybe that's why, maybe it isn't. Maybe I thought I needed the protection, just in case. I'd be naive to feel safe around you, Richard, Lex, or anyone else connected with you.

(I point the gun directly at him, but it doesn't phase him.)

Or maybe I am here to finish you once and for all.

Nitro: Go ahead, prove me right. I assure you that there's not many people in this world who will give a damn about my passing. In fact, I can name one who doesn't want his dirty little secret getting out; the one I helped him with. Get rid of me, and the chances of that happening go with it. It also proves me right that you and Lex are....not so different at all.

So go ahead. Shoot me. Put me out of my misery.

I'm alone here, no one else within twenty miles. There wouldn't be any investigation. No arrests. You'd be rid of one of your greatest enemies, behind the scenes at least.

Control...or not, Matthew.

(I hesitate, thinking about all of this again. Thinking about Alexia being kidnapped three years ago, when she was Joe's daughter. Thinking about Richard taking Joe's wife and making her a slave, which killed her. I'm thinking about Alexia now and the mess she's caught up in. I can tie up so many loose ends with one bullet.)

VIRUS: Kind of a...taking it all the way to your tombstone type deal, huh? With that secret? Well. I honestly don't give a shit about that. I might be doing someone a favor, but this is personal.

This is about all the havoc and injustice you've caused my loved ones. This is about you handling the strings and puppeteering the kidnapping of Joe's daughter, now my daughter, and the perpetual murder of my brother's wife. This is about vengeance. Not some dirty secret.

Control...I will never lose it.

It's funny. It's as if Lex sent me here knowing full well what I already had planned. What a student you had.

(I pull the trigger. The blast sends Nitro rocking back into his wheelchair, as he puts his arm on his chest. His hand quickly fills up with blood as it pours out of his ribs. He tries to mumble something, his last words.)

Nitro: Here's.....to Alex....and....the....life.....that could....have.....beeeeeen.

(He trails off on the last one, before collapsing into his chair completely motionless, his head hanging down in total unconsciousness. Not really caring, I wipe the gun completely free of prints and place it into Nitro's cold, dead hand. I grab the documents out of the box that I need and make my way to the front door. Something strikes me and I turn back, looking at his wheelchair. I place my hand inside the sleeve of my hoodie, covering my fingertip as I push the Front Door button to open it.)

(Did he want to die? Did he want me to get away clean? I have no presence here whatsoever. All that's here is a dead man that looked like he shot himself.)

(I make my way into the shitty car again, placing the gun inside the glove compartment. I pull out of the driveway and head back down the same hick road.)

(The sun has disappeared.)

time: evening; eleven forty seven, p.m.

day: october twelfth; oh-five.

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

(I find myself sitting in the same familiar chair, overlooking the backyard of my beautiful home. Tragic. I wasn't preparing to go the full nine today, but he pushed me. He wanted it. He wanted put out of his misery. I wanted revenge.)

(Everyone's happy.)

(Then why do I feel so empty?)

(I grab the videocamera out of the corner and place it in its usual spot, facing the darkness of my backyard through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I grab a fresh tape out of a box of them I have nearby and put one in the camera. I calmly make my way to the usual seat where I do these things and grab the remote control, hitting record.)

VIRUS: I...uh...

(The words don't come out. If only I could write everything I want to say down, but it wouldn't make much sense. I can't stop thinking about earlier. I just killed someone.)

(I turn the video camera off, rewinding back to the beginning of it. I shake off the worry, the thoughts, and concentrate on what I need to say. I hit record, once more.)

VIRUS: You know, Murdock, you've been doing a lot of talking about me. It makes me wonder, it really does. I've been sitting here contemplating for a little bit as to the psychological reasons of your ramblings about me. I mean, you're the World Champion, why worry yourself with a low-ranked wrestler like me? You've got your reputation to withhold, whereas I'm building mine. Slowly, but surely.

I'm not sitting here begging you for a title shot. I'm not sitting here trying to defame you in any way. I'm not stalking you and trying to get you to fight me at any possible chance. No. You want to know what I did?

I went into Slaughterhouse and showed you up. I did what you think people can't do.

I didn't do it fairly, huh? Honestly, that really doesn't matter. We had ourselves quite a match, it wasn't just two minutes in and someone interferes and gives me the upperhand. No, we had a lengthy match and you had your opportunities to put me away, but you couldn't. Try walking into Slaughterhouse with that on your conscience.

(I give the camera a smirk.)

VIRUS: It hasn't gotten personal between you and me, Murdock. No sir. It's only a personal matter within yourself. You've failed to beat me, to put my shoulders to the mat and pin me. I'm not incahootz with Lugo, I could really care less about him. Interferences are not my style; check my track record and you'll see that as clear as day. But, I can't help the fact that you couldn't finish your business with Lugo.

Next time be smart and finish your business with people so they don't spill it into the ring when you're wrestling with someone else. Don't put the blame on me. You're a big boy, defend yourself next time. What was I supposed to do, tell the ref to stop the match? Fuck off.

Don't let your personal business get into the ring with you and your opponent ever again, Murdock. That's the only advice I can give you. Hell, if that wouldn't have happened, you might've lost cleanly. Maybe.

(A wink to the camera.)

VIRUS: So basically, your monologues of rambling about me comes down to one thing: you want me to ask you for a rematch.

Side note: it's amazing how can I sum up all that bullshit you said into one line, isn't it?

To the point at hand, I'm going to let you sweat. Maybe you'll wonder what would've happened if you actually beat me, or I beat you cleanly. Let you think that if Lugo hadn't have gotten involved, you would've been beaten fairly and your record put to a stop. You're not as good as you think, Erik.

But since I'm on your mind constantly, I'll let it eat at you. Right now, you've got this feeling of unfulfillment and emptiness when you think about our match.

It's not good enough for me.

(I want to drive you mad with desire.)

VIRUS: I'll wait until you're determined to beat me, Murdock, and you can't stop thinking about it. Better yet, I'll wait until you're obsessed with getting in the ring with me again and wanting to beat me to a bloody pulp. I'll let it build as you watch me succeed and climb the invisible ladder in PHW, denying your chance to prove yourself against me.

Remember, I had you beat - not the other way around.

Every opponent you face will be in preparation for me, Erik. Every time you hit a big move or a nice reversal, you'll think "Why didn't I do that with Engel?". It'll get worse and worse, until you can't take it anymore.

You'll waltz into my locker-room and beg me to step into the squared-circle with you. You'll beg, and beg, and if you have that World Title still, you'll throw that at my feet to try to persuade me even more to stepping into the ring with you.

When that day comes, I'll shake my head, because had you shut up about it, I would've gotten around to you sooner.

(I smile a very wicked one...it's scaring myself.)

VIRUS: Moving along, let's talk about my match at Slaughterhouse this week. A tag team match, huh? I guess Kendrick saw my interview where I mentioned - out of fun and curiousity, of course - that Protean and I might step into the ring as a tag team. He probably looked at my tag title history and thought "This kid's got the talent and experience, he'll put on the good show".

Well, thank you Kendrick. I appreciate that. But please, if you don't mind, I'd like to stick to singles matches. While I'm very talented and extremely experienced, tag matches tend to turn out disastrous for me, whether it be my partner not showing up or not giving one hundred percent. However, I have beaten two men at the same time before. Handicap matches are fun.

Who am I up against...Corey and Joseph. An odd combination to say the least. I don't think Torra is in WKMF, is he? If not, what the fuck is he doing tagging with Corey? I mean, my partner is Riona. That makes sense because she's a good friend of the family and she's in Exit Music, so I trust her.

How the hell are you two going to operate as a tag team? You two won't trust each other. You'll miscommunicate. You'll get mad at each other; hell, you'll probably end up hating each other.

This seems easy enough, doesn't it Riona? Just let them destroy each other and we'll be the clean up crew.

(A pause for a moment, clearing my throat.)

VIRUS: If you two retards think about it, I just told you what you shouldn't be doing in the ring in order to actually put up a fight against us. Don't miscommunicate. Trust each other, even if it's only for a shortwhile. Don't get pissed off at each other and let your pride get in the way of shit. If you don't do any of that and operate well as a team, then we should have an excellent night.

If not, then...plain and simple: you're fucked. Because Riona and I will both tear you two apart. With ease.

I've probably got as much, if not more, experience in the tag team division than you two put together. Yeah, I said it. Even though I haven't had the longest career, the only thing I did for a year was wrestle in tag matches and win tag titles. I would listen to me, if I were you.

But you won't, because you two are both fucking morons.

So much for trying to be a helping hand.

(I shrug my shoulders at the camera. It's not my fault they're too egotistic and retarded to listen to good advice.)

VIRUS: Torra, to be quite honest, I've really got nothing against you - save you insulting Dustin every so often. I really don't know you all that well and I don't care to get to know you. You were the Pride Champion at one time, easily put away by Wolf. That's understandable, he does that to a lot of people. Here's a tip:

You've wrestled against Wolf, yes. Wolf and I aren't so different. We've trained for...some god-awful amount of years that I can't remember right now. He would know, though. Take what you learned from your match with Wolf and apply it against me. However, we're not exactly the same. We both have our differences in strengths and weaknesses, and technique.

But you should be doing that with any loss you take, applying what you learned to the next match. That's what Belmont can't figure out, that dumbass.

And speaking of losing, what's your track record right now Corey? Two losses in a row? Three? I can't keep count, it's just all happened so fast. You lose to Riona at Infamy. You lose to Silvio the week before. You lose to Iman Sain. I mean, do you think it's going to suddenly stop now that you've got Torra in your corner?

Or you're going up against someone that has already beaten you and someone that's on the brink of becoming one of the best wrestlers around once again?

No, it won't.

It's only the beginning.

(A stern look goes into the camera as I reach for the remote. I hit stop and take out the videotape. I place it on the kitchen counter. I'll mail it in the morning. I put the videocamera back in its corner and turn off the light in the kitchen. I walk into the bedroom, noticing Mia already asleep. My haven from insanity.)