time: tuesday afternoon

day: april twenty-ninth

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

(My eyes open. For a second, I envisioned everything was gone. It was Hell, and I saw the devil. He wasn't what I expected, and when I came up close to him, I finally realized who he was. Me.)

(It was always me. I am the reason why my family suffers, I am the reason why my younger brother has to spend the next six months in a hospital, and I am the reason why people set out to destroy my life. It never really hit me until now, looking back on what I've done and the way I did it. I brought everything on myself, and my family, and for what? Some sick, twisted vendetta? Some form of justice? No, it wasn't worth it to go toe to toe with the Masters, because stepping in front of that train was a mistake I'll always pay for.)

(It's a mistake my family will continue to pay for.)

(My body is in complete chaos. Broken ribs, sprained ankle, busted face, severe lung damage. I was on a respitatory system for awhile when I was in the hospital, because of what Trevor did to me. But, I survived. That's the key. And if I can survive that, I believe I can survive almost everything. Almost. So can my family, and we can get through this together. I can't even imagine the upcoming war I'm going to have. I can feel it, I can see it coming. The MoA was a test, and I think I passed. But, the real challenge lies ahead, if he decides to make a move. I only pray that he doesn't, and I can recover from the darkness that has enveloped me for so long.)

(Laying in my bed, alone, I hit record on the video camera I have placed off to the side. I try to sit up, but it's no good. I lay back down, my hands interlocked and placed on my stomach. Much like someone in a casket.)

VIRUS: Retired? No. You didn't retire anybody, Duff. You've simply interrupted what will be a great career. That is all that you have done and that's all that you could ever hope to do. You're a speed bump, kid, and the sad thing is that you don't even realize it. Sure, Warren will be out of commission for some time, as he did suffer a major concussion. However, if you think for one second that he won't be back in the ring as soon as he can be, you're wrong, which seems to be your forte lately.

(I put my right hand over my mouth and let out a cough.)

VIRUS: The last time we encountered each other in the ring you got lucky. Simple as that. I won't go into some long diatribe about how much I'm better than you and how I was distracted with my brother and Trevor fighting on the outside. I won't even get into that.

You. Got. Lucky.

That's all I need to say, and that's all you need to hear. Why? Because you're going to come back with some sudden urge to prove yourself to me, because it's the truth. What do I have to prove to you, Duff? Nothing, absolutely nothing. This match is President Sommers giving me a break for putting on the best match of all time with Trevor, and he knows what condition I'm in. This is a recovery match, an easy match for me to take hold of and squeeze the life out of it. Hank Serbia doesn't matter. You matter because of one thing:

M. O. A.

Take that away from you, and you're nothing but a footnote.

And what is this crap? The referee supposedly saw me drape my arm over Trevor? Come on, Duff. I may take you for a less-talented wrestler, but I never took you for a goddamn moron.

I beat Trevor, whether you think my arm was or was not draped over him. I made the last effort, and secured the win. I proved not only to him, but to everyone that doubted me, that the Masters are not the elite force here. I sent him packing, Duff, and if you don't watch your fucking mouth, I'll do the same to you.

(I don't move. My eyes are still locked in on the ceiling above me.)

VIRUS: Well rested... no, absolutely not. It's going to take some time for me to reach one hundred percent again because of the pain that Trevor put apon me. But do you think that's going to stop me from winning this match? I'm going to treat this match like any other match, and concentrate on winning. This isn't a grudge match, this isn't a huge pay-per-view match with everything on the line. This is about pride, and this is about winning.

And yes, this can be about some payback from the last time we stepped in the ring. But, this is business, Duff, and when it comes to this business, look no further when it comes to who's the best.

So while you're sitting there trying to think of ways to put me through pain and sorrow that Trevor did, I'm going to run circles around you and take you out at the knees. Then I'm going to dish out brutality in a way you haven't experienced yet. And guess what will be the ending?

I climb the top rope, and I come down with the most spectacular move you'll ever see and the referee will do what he does best: counting the one, two, three and raising my hand.

Maybe you should stick to what you think you know best, and that's how to win. I'm sorry, Duff, but you don't have the killer instinct that Trevor and I have. Maybe back in the day you did... but not anymore. Because, ultimately, what are you fighting for? A paycheck? A career? Impressing Darren Ridel?

Where the fuck is the killer instinct in that? Trevor and I were fighting for blood, for pride, and for glory. We were fighting to prove who is the most ferocious, cunning, and talented son of a bitch to grace a PWA ring, and I proved who it was at Revolutions.

But, he came in a close second.

I was fighting for my family, Duff, and for what the MoA did to me on that infamous night. So please, stick to trying to win this match, and not going the route that I've been creating the last two months. You know nothing about madness, pain, and sorrow. Nothing.

(Once again, I don't turn my eyes to the camera. I barely move, resembling something.)

VIRUS: And again, you find it fit to insult my younger brother, and for what reason? Sure, you smashed a chair into his head and knocked him unconscious. Great job, Duff. You're not going to have a chair this time to save your ass from an Engel beatdown. You're not going to get lucky again. You're going to make a mistake, and I'm going to break you in half for it. I'm going to beat you and I won't even be at one hundred percent.

You're just an enforcer, Duff. You're not an innovator, and you're not a legend. Maybe someday you will be, but the time is not now. It's my time, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.

You think I enjoy Raizzor having that World Title? Do you think I enjoy seeing Lex Demise be the number one contender for the most coveted belt we have? No, I don't. I'm going to do something about it, and I'm going to give the fans a true champion. So many have tried and failed, but their failure will be my success.

You're in my way, so I suggest you get the fuck off the tracks when the train's coming through.

(I pause for a moment, but remain motionless.)

VIRUS: As for Hank... I don't have much to say to you. I've never heard of you until I saw you face off against another man I've never heard of and lose. But, you should feel fortunate. Sommers has put you in the ring against me, and that's going to get you some exposure. If you play your cards right, and bring your A game, you might even impress the fans a little bit. But, be ready to be dominated. I'm through playing games, and I'm through messing around with vendettas and injustices.

I did what I needed to do at Revolutions Per Minute, and I did what I needed to do against Corey Lazarus. It's in the past, and I'm moving forward. Moving forward to something I've been humble about for far too long.

My third goal. The World Title. Now you all know. And, like I've delivered before, I'll do what I need to do. I'll win a contendership spot, and I'll defeat the champion. It's as simple as that, because I'm going to keep it that way. Whoever I face, it doesn't matter who you are. You can't stop my determination, and you can't possibly avoid my desire for glory.

I do not forgive.

I do not forget.

Heaven holds the faithful Departed.

(fade.)