The water fell over Stein's body, soothing and massaging his muscles. His hands were up on the wall under the shower head as he replayed Azraith's promos in his mind, over and over again. He took a deep breath, and tried to wiggle his way out of the death grip that Azraith had on his mind...

When Dan walked out of the bathroom (clothed, as was the polite thing to do with a roommate in Cade Sydal), he dried his hair while walking to the Iron Fist championship. Stein stood over it, threw his towel on the bed and sighed.

Dan Stein: “You might not be back in this room next week. This could very well be the week that someone takes you from me. I don't like to admit it, I don't like to think about it... but it's reality. I'm not Superman, I'm not even Batman. I'm a regular human being with normal human limits... you just push me to surpass them. This week... Azraith might beat me, but that's not unlike the last time I was in the ring with him. He could have beaten me that week, but he didn't. I walked out the better man... just like I hope to do this week. Just like I will do this week.”

Stein sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

Dan Stein: “What am I doing? Talking to a fucking title belt. You're not Dan Stein, you're a God damned strap of leather with a gold plate on it... but you are Dan Stein's title. You do not define me, I define myself. Match after match, I define myself. Victories over Jonny Johnson, Adrian Corazon, Kenji Yamada and Azraith DeMitri define me. You are just a symbol of my accomplishments. You... belong to me. Not me to you. I own you not the other way around. I won you, and I kept you, because I embody what you mean. Azraith DeMitri keeps coming back? Azraith DeMitri thinks I want his respect? Azraith DeMitri thinks he will beat me because I don't believe he could?”

Stein nodded, sighing.

Dan Stein: “I have to go out and make sure he doesn't, just like any other opponent. Just like I did the first time I was in the ring with him, or you, the title belt that belongs to me, will walk out the door over Azraith's shoulder. I can't have that. I wont have that.

“You belong to me, and sadly enough... you're all I have.”

* * *

Stein stood outside of the bar, still wearing that UnderArmour sweatshirt we saw earlier in the week. The sun had gone down, and most of the people had left the bar at closing time. Still, Stein waited around the front, out in the parking lot, eyes fixated on the door, waiting.

The door swung open, and she walked out.

Dan Stein: “Man, you took forever in there.”

The woman gasped and put her hand over her chest, startled.

Dan Stein: “Oh, God. Uh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Crap, I'm a weirdo right now, I'm sorry.”

The woman breathed heavily, and dropped her hand, looking at Stein.

Woman: “No, it's fine. I just... something tells me you don't wait around for most girls.”

Stein looked around him, putting his hands out.

Dan Stein: “Wh-why is that?”

Woman: “Well... you don't get told no too often, do ya?”

Stein looked at her, a little smirk on his face, he put his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

Dan Stein: “No, I guess you're right. But, being pretty isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I mean, I hardly ever have to chase anyone, takes the fun out of things.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest.

Woman: “Oh, so now I'm just a game to you?”

Dan Stein: “Wha? No, I just mea-”

Woman: “Don't worry, Mr. Stein, I'm just giving you a hard time.”

Stein sighed, smirking.

Dan Stein: “So... how are you getting home, uh...”

Woman: “Gemma. And I'm driving.”

Stein nodded looking around.

Dan Stein: “Ah, I see. Just wanted to... I don't know, walk you home maybe? Not a big deal.”

Gemma: “Dan, do you need a ride back to your hotel?”

Dan Stein: “Would you mind?”

He chuckled.

Dan Stein: “It's kinda cold.”

She laughed, as she motioned for him to follow her.

Gemma: “Quit making excuses, Dan, I already offered. It's Phoenix, not Des Moines.”

Stein stopped in his tracks as she kept firing back at him. He whispered to himself.

Dan Stein: “Game on...”

* * *

The Lights: “There are few men in this sport whose respect I want. The men that I looked up to when I watched DIWF, men like Cade Gonzalez and Cade Sydal, Greyson Blade and even Driscoll, a bit, and in SHOOT Project's history, there's few more men than that that I respect. Del Carver, Real Deal... even OutKast in a way.”

Stein nodded as he rubbed his sleeve on the Iron Fist title.

The Lights: “How many times do I have to tell you, Azraith, I do not want your respect. I told you that how many times when we did this the first time? I don't care for your respect, I'll never... ever want your respect, not after you did those things you did. Just like I will never ever want the respect of Kenji Yamada, or what Adrian Corazon did to Del Carver with a screw driver. I do not want your respect. But until you give me your respect, go out there and fight me like you respect my abilities, understand that I am not just a pawn in your path to my title, I will beat you. Each and every time. That's not me being cocky, that's me being real.”

Stein smirked.

The Lights: “Because, the fact that you do not respect me, Azraith, leads me to believe that you do not respect the fact that I could beat you. That I could prove you wrong and actually beat you not just once, but twice. You don't respect me? You don't have to, and I don't want you to. I was just trying to explain to you why maybe you should respect me before you step into the ring with me. Obviously it fell on deaf ears. Obviously you're too set in your ways in believing that respecting a man in this business means you fear him, or think higher of him than yourself. You fail to realize that by not respecting me, you limit yourself in practicing for me because, 'oh, well... he's not that good, I don't have to prepare for this, that and the other'. Like I said, that's fine.”

“All the more easy for me. See, Azraith, I respect you. Actually, let me rephrase that. I respect the athlete that you are. I don't respect you, no. I could never respect you after hanging a child, but I respect your past, your accomplishments. I respect everything that's made you who you are. I respect your battles with 'Maverick' Damien Roy, with Azrael Goeren, hell, even with Kenji Yamada. I even, Azraith, respect your feud with 'Real Deal' Josh Johnson, even if you yourself don't. All your title reigns, even holding this Iron Fist title on my shoulder. I respect... all of that. And for that reason, I've studied you. I've watched countless hours of tape, I looked back on all the memories I had of you in DIWF. I've scouted you both in and out of SHOOT Project, OPW, DIWF, and all the other places.”

“You have done nothing but show me disrespect, Azraith. If I was anyone else, I'd hate you for it. If I were anyone else, I'd probably throw a fit and start crying, like you claim I have done, but I haven't, and I wont. There is only one thing that I have to say to you, Azraith, only one thing that needs to be said at this point.”

“Thank you. Cliché, I know. But, really, thank you. Because while I know that you're Azraith DeMitri, and you're Billy Badass, and that you can, and probably will, cause me massive amounts of pain, I am still able to catch you off guard. I will still be able to surprise you, one way or another, and I will walk out with the Iron Fist title over my shoulder. As the Iron Fist champion, it is my job to take on all comers, even repeat opponents, and keep this title on my shoulder, much like Adrian Corazon did for so long, much like you did. It is my job, and my fucking DUTY to take on all comers, and shut them up.”

“Some of them keep coming back for more. Some of them think they can eventually take the title away. As much as I hate to say it, look at Del Carver. Carver kept coming at Corazon like a bat out of hell, and each and every time, Corazon beat him. Corazon proved that he was, in fact, the real deal of the Iron Fist division, until Carver couldn't come back any longer. Diamond Del Carver, Azraith. You've been in the ring with him, you have a past with him. You know how ferocious he is in the ring, how dangerous he is. He couldn't beat Adrian Corazon. You couldn't beat him without putting a cigar in the old man's eye. And you didn't beat me the first time.”

“You want to beat me, Azraith? Show some fucking respect, because until you do, until you even out the playing field just a little bit, each and every time you get back up, I'll already be on my feet, ready to knock you down. As many times as you keep.... coming... back... I'll still be there. I'll still be able bodied and ready to exploit you.”

Stein held his belt in the air with one hand.

The Lights: “Each and every time, Azraith, I will be right there ready to knock you down. The fact that I still have this belt proves to me, and to the world that even though you keep coming, I keep putting you down. I am still here. I am still the champion. Respect that fact. Until the day you do, and probably even after, I will be Iron Fist champion.”

“Golden Boy? Maybe. But you're right, Azraith. This is not the pinnacle of my career, this is not where I want to end up. But this is where I am now, and until the day that changes, I will treat this belt like it is the Holy grail, sent down from GOD himself for me to protect and hold. And that's what I'm going to do; Protect and hold this until no one but God himself tells me that it's time to let it go. Not because this is the best thing that could ever happen to me, but it is the best thing that could happen to me right now. Not because I want to stay the Iron Fist champion forever, but because I respect the athletes that held it before me.”

“Yes, Azraith. Even the athlete in you.”

“Respect is not given, Azraith, it is earned. You want me to take? I'll take my pound of flesh from you, Azraith. I'll take this belt and walk out of the ring with it. I'll take everything that you've said about how you don't respect me, and I'll harbor it. I'll remember that.”

“When you're laying on your back, looking up at the ceiling and those orbs are slowly focusing in your eyes after that bell has rung, you'll realize you're looking up at the one thing you should've respected the most going into that match.”

“Lights Out, Azraith.”