NOW PLAYING:
Breaking Benjamin - "Blow Me Away"
(SJ's Theme)

[RP IN - Dream Sequence]
LOCATION: SJ's Room, Richards Conglomerate HQ, Las Vegas, Nevada
DATE/TIME: 11:30PM, Tuesday April 24, 2007

-Cast-

A flash of bright light illuminated Steve's otherwise-dark vision.

The light wasn't white, however, but instead a bright, flaming red. The crackling of something... a fire?... could be heard in some isolated part of his hearing- as if it were taking place inside his ears and not actually out in the real world itself. It gradually began to grow in volume until eventually it blocked out what little Steve could have heard of the real world- which he could now no longer see for the red light apparently in his eyes. Steve wasn't absolutely certain, but in the background he could have sworn he'd heard the sounds of fighting, of shouts, of blow against blow and of painful yells. All that remained of the outside world was the smell of the night air, the feel of the mattress he was on, and the taste of his own saliva, that now tasted... like blood?

Jesus Christ. This is getting a little too weird for me... Steve thought mentally, trying in vain to snap his eyes open. Nothing happened. The same red light was still in Steve's way, the metallic taste of blood was still in his mouth, the same loud burning sound was in his hearing. And now even his senses of touch seemed to be failing.

What was once a warm bed was now heating up considerably, passing the acceptable range for a normal human-warmed bed... and in time, even passing the acceptable range for a room in summer- and it was only April. The heat only seemed to grow more and more, becoming unbearable. Waves of heat seemed to waft around him, as if being beaten down on him from a fire or an unimaginably hot sun. He couldn't even feel the bed under him any more- and in fact, he didn't even feel like he was lying down any more. No... he felt like he was standing up. All the while, he desperately breathed in air around him with his nose, clinging on to the night air as if it were the last vestige of reality around him.

Then he choked and coughed as smoke flooded into his lungs. It took a good few seconds to get his airways clear. Smoke? That couldn't be right, unless the room was on fire, and he'd have woken up immediately if he'd known that. Nevertheless, he could smell smoke. Something here was burning. Something big was burning, because no matter which way he turned his head, he couldn't get the stink out of his nostrils. Even holding his breath didn't work- that just made the stink of smoke and taste of blood intermix, making Steve nauseous. As he struggled to hold last night's dinner down, he was suddenly assaulted by the stinging sensation of a million cuts and slices on his body, followed by the aching pains of a million blunt impacts- and last but not least, the searing agony of a million burn injuries. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched and he grimaced in agony, then finally a voice burst in out of nowhere to shatter all five sensory assaults to pieces.

"Breathe, Avenger..."

As the instruction was given, Steve did just that, expecting the reek of fire and smoke to once again fill his lungs. Instead, oxygen flooded his throat. The stink of fire and taste of blood were now gone, and Steve's previously-on-fire skin no longer burned. Finally, his vision cleared as he could finally see something other than the red light. However... it wasn't exactly his room, either.

He appeared to be standing on a circular white platform of some kind, suspended in... the middle of absolutely nowhere. A starry black sky was visible above him, with a purplish tinge on the horizons indicating either twilight or soon-to-be sunrise. That same sky continued down past the platform itself, extending down into what seemed to be complete infinity. The platform itself appeared to be constructed of pure white, solid metal, extending a considerable distance around him.

Steve was dressed differently. His head was no longer bandaged, and he was now decked out completely ready for combat. His white boardshorts hung down to his kneecaps, decorated with blue trim around the waist and around the bottom of the legs. Blue elbowpads covered his arms, and black boots encased his feet. Something was also slung across his back- a sword scabbard of some kind. Resting within was the dragon-hilt katana that Steve had been presented with by Justin 'Raziel' Jones a year and a half ago, the Avenger-Kai.

This place had significance. Steve's attire had significance. Even the katana, which Steve had no idea what was doing there, had significance. He knew that much, but as for what purpose it all had... that was beyond him.

"The sword is here, your attire is here, you are here because of one thing and one thing alone- it is necessary. You are here because you need to be here, and this place exists because you need it to. That is probably also why I am here."

Steve knew that voice, of course. The melodic, unusually-accented, well-spoken voice could only be one person. He wheeled around on his heel and found himself face to face with Ariasha. She was dressed a little differently to how he usually saw her- and that was saying a lot right there. Her arms and shoulders were bare, and her upper body itself appeared to encased in a steely-gray sleeveless cuirass- armor- of some kind. That was also joined by a matching 'skirt' of sorts. Finally, like Steve, she seemed to be outfitted with a weapon- in her case, it seemed to be some kind of ornate longsword in a scabbard on her back. Steve blinked a couple of times, then finally spoke in a dry, sardonic tone.

"You know, I've had some dreams that have been loopy, weird, freaky, quite frankly something out of an acid trip... but this one just about takes the cake. What's going on, Ariasha?"

"You fell asleep, and your subconscious... being the nature it is... created this place. It is a dream, yes, but not one without any consequence in the real world. You have learned and trained in the real world, and you will still need to do that, but for the horrors of this particular fight looming in the distance, and the difficulty and the nature of the enemies you will face, you also need advanced mental preparation." She paused, then gestured to the bizarre world around them.

"There are things that you will need to do here that you cannot do in the real world for various reasons. Because of this, your mind generated a simulacrum- this place we are in now- for you to exist and prepare in while you sleep. For whatever reason, you summoned me here."

"But you're not legitimately here, are you?" Steve asked in confusion, peering at the apparent simulation of Ariasha in front of him as if to determine her 'reality'- for all purposes, she looked exactly the same, and he could even detect the same vanilla-esque fragrance about her that she had in real life, "I mean, that's impossible."

"I will allow you to believe or disbelieve whatever you wish about that, Avenger." she answered- or rather, did not answer, "What I can tell you is that you feel I am the one best qualified for the task of preparing you. You may have been able to summon Douglas or Talia- or Lillith Groves, or Heather Halliwell, or Jem Williams. You could have summoned Daniel Malcolm prior to his fall. Your mind even considered the possibility of Leroy Stone for a few moments."

"Lee?" Steve rolled his eyes and laughed at that, "Yeah, I can see how a simulated discussion with Lee Stone about the Helldome would go down. I'd probably end up throwing him off this damn platform thingy within five seconds. So I picked you, then? I'm guessing this has something to do with my last Helldome experience."

"I believe so. You no doubt know that we had been watching you prior to your time in the XWF- prior to your wrestling career- in the hope of determining whether or not you were in fact the Avenger. You needed a suitable challenge to be able to prove yourself suitably to us, and it took some time for that to come around. When you defeated the personification of pure evil, Judas Iscariot, in a war that involved fifteen minutes inside the Helldome, that was the proof that you were who we sought."

Steve nodded, as if vaguely remembering the story, then allowed Ariasha to continue.

"I met you soon afterwards. The Helldome was the pivotal moment when you proved your nature as an Avenger- and more importantly, it was the moment when all doubts about your ability to cheat death were simultaneously extinguished. The match, as I am sure you know, is an experience not unlike Hell itself."

She wasn't kidding. The brief momentary flash that Steve had felt earlier- the vision of nothing but fire, the stink of smoke, taste of blood, sounds of warfare and pain, and the feeling of rapid cuts, blunt impacts and his own burning skin, was the closest thing to Hell he had experienced- but furthermore, it was an experience that he had felt for much, much longer inside the Helldome itself. That was an experience that, of the other three competitors in the Helldome, only Trent Gein could ever hope to understand at this time.

"It's the closest I've come to it." was his calm, simple answer.

"To us, turning the tide against a man bordering on the demonic inside a structure so... horrifically abyssal was the largest indicator of who you truly are. Whether you believe the same or not is up to you, but the very nature of the Helldome brought out the very essence of what makes you so legendary. Perhaps it is because you have conditioned yourself to achieve the impossible, perhaps it is your competitive nature, perhaps it is the fact that you embrace the chance to run headlong into danger. But it is my opinion that you are one of the very, very few men who are ideal to fight in it."

Steve nodded affirmatively, "I have to admit, that makes sense. I can already see the way Gibson has been talking about the Helldome at Massacre, and I can't help but wonder if he even knows what the hell it is. The actions he's taken to try to 'weaken' me and give himself an advantage makes me wonder if he even knows what he's getting himself into. I wonder, does he even know that his interference runners are going to find it extremely hard to enter a barbed-wire-covered structure while it's on fire? Whereas... yes, the Helldome has augmented my abilities in the past, and will do so again."

"Yes. You know how to fight in Hell, Avenger. You're one of the few men who would actually be equipped to take the fight into a place like that. But now you need to enhance and sharpen that skill further. For this time, you are not the only one bred to fight in it. Trent Gein is another who is virtually engineered for the Helldome. And Famine of the Vile's demonic past, despite his current attempts to live as a somewhat-normal man, shows signs of himself being bred to fight in it also. You must prepare yourself." She paused, then turned her dark-eyed gaze directly up to Steve- and, as a very rare occasion, Steve actually saw her smile- serenely, "Shall we begin?"

"Alright. Let's do it."

No sooner had Steve made that affirmation than suddenly the world around him seemed to lurch the slightest bit, the air around Ariasha and himself wavering as if by heat waves in the air. Once again, red began to flood Steve's vision, accompanied by the rise in heat, the taste of blood, smell of smoke, sounds of combat and the feeling of cutting, beating and burning. This time it faded fast, however- and when it did fade, the scene was slightly different. The platform and its sky were still there, and so was Ariasha- but now they were surrounded by something very, very different.

They were now standing inside a dome constructed entirely of many, many rows of titanium wall-grating- and more importantly, tiny, razor-sharp barbs designed for one thing- ripping skin to tatters. The floor around him, except for a full-blown ring in the exact center of the area, was rock-hard concrete, padded out with dry ice and cotton. Above Steve and Ariasha were not one, but two large wooden platforms going around the length of the dome- where the barbs on the gratings appeared to be longer and longer. Last but not least, Steve could see the only real exit out of the hellish structure- a gap in the mesh forty-five feet up, with a tarp hanging from it- a tarp constructed entirely of sandpaper.

They were now standing inside the Helldome itself.

"This is enough for this session, Avenger..." Ariasha told him, turning back to him and bowing her head slightly, "Your friends need you in the real world right now, and furthermore, it is best to use the simulacrum in relatively small stages. You have seen the Helldome in your mind. You can see exactly how easy it is to reproduce it here in your dreams. You did not even have to think about it- you simply did it. Next, you will recreate more advanced facets of the Helldome fight- its effects, your opponents, the motivations behind your fighting, and the tactics you will need to succeed. For today, visualization is enough."

"Hmm. I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed. I kinda wanted to get a bit more done..." Steve admitted.

"I know, Avenger..." Ariasha told him, reaching out to set a hand on his arm reassuringly- something she definitely never did in the real world- "I know exactly your urge to charge headlong into the simulated fight and to do it now. Because it is based off the same urges demanding that you tear Andrew Gibson apart inside the Helldome, the urge to become the number one contender again, the urge to become victorious. It will come soon enough. But for now the time has come to leave." She leaned forward in a respectful bow, "Stay safe, Avenger. You need to."

"I will. Until next time, then..."

As soon as Steve said that, the general lighting of the area around them began to grow- first just a little brighter than usual, but gradually increasing in intensity until nothing but white saturated Steve's eyes. He couldn't see anything now- just bright light.

Until finally, a voice finally punctured the extreme brightness around him, bringing him back to reality.

"About freakin' time you woke up, mate!"

[Steve's Thoughts]

Well, ladies and gentlemen, the time's finally upon us. You've heard it being talked about all month, and more and more details have been revealed as time goes by. Now that we know all of the opponents involved and the road ahead is clear for us all, there is literally nothing to stop Andrew Gibson, Famine of the Vile, Trent Gein and most importantly of all yours truly from going full steam ahead into the complete and utter warzone that is The Helldome.

Forty five feet of titanium. Serrated barbs all over. Three floors. Countless weapons. Flamethrowers. Combustors. Grain alcohol. Sulfuric acid. Dry ice. Sandpaper tarps with metal shavings embedded within. All of that on fire by the end of the hour. Make no mistake, boys and girls, this is hell. How do I know? Because I've been in the freakin' thing, that's why. I've braved the flames and taken the assault in there personally. I've been on ground floor while the whole freakin' thing was on fire. And let me tell you something... all the reporters have been talking about it, the boys in the back have, you fans have and the XWF management crew have... but not a damn one of you, with very few exceptions, have any idea what the hell you are talking about. Nobody knows what the hell they're talking about unless they have been inside the damn thing.

That extends right the hell down to the people in the Helldome itself. Andrew Gibson will no doubt come on down claiming that he's a master of the Helldome and that he'll know all these various different ways to make me feel pain and that that he was born to fight in this match and that it's his 'perfect' match. Allow me to pre-emptively state, right here and now, that Andrew Gibson doesn't have a goddamn clue. He can't have a clue, because he hasn't been inside that thing and he won't have a clue until he steps in there. He can study the match and watch all the replays of Autumn in Hell 2005 and XWF's Last Breath all he wants, hell, he can present me with a friggin' engineering diagram of the Helldome and it will not- can not- make a difference.

And likewise, Famine of the Vile will ramble on about how he's been into the heart of darkness and of hell itself throughout his lifetime. I'm aware of the claims you've made in the past about your involvement in the diabolical, Famine, and I don't pretend to either prove or disprove them- but with that said, I don't care if you're actually that massive demon thing from Lord of the Rings- I can safely say that you still don't have a hope in hell of knowing what this match is before you gets in. It's simple, ladies- you will not know the Helldome until you are inside it. End of story. The one person I'll actually allow to claim any kind of 'innate' ability in the Helldome is Trent Gein, and you know why? He's been in there. He actually has room to talk, because he knows what he's talking about. He's felt and experienced first-hand exactly what the Helldome is. The others don't have any room to make any 'I'm a villain so this is my ideal match' or 'I used to be all satanic so this is right up my alley' claims without being shot down.

The prize is one I don't think I have to remind any of you of. The number one contendership to the Universal Championship. Now, I'll be frank. Whoever has the balls to survive the Helldome will decapitate the little bitch that is Blizzard. No question about that. They'd also have quite the advantage on Hardcore Smitty. We all have our own reasons for wanting the Universal title. I'm fairly willing to bet Famine's SOA boys will be barracking for him to bring the title to that group so they can actually achieve something instead of wasting everybody's time like usual. Yes, Scott Young, I said that, bite me if you can't deal with it. Trent Gein couldn't pick a better way to make a comeback than to become the Universal Champion for the second time. I've fallen from grace since I let the federation down in February and winning the title is one hell of a way to get back on my feet and continue my legacy. And Andrew Gibson... well, I suppose if he has the title, people might overlook the fact he's a no-balled, inbred retard if he has it. I mean, it didn't help him much last time, but Gibson apparently believes trying the same tired old tactics over and over again gets results, so more power to him.

At any rate, this promo's designed to allow me to talk to opponents directly, and that's exactly what I plan to do. I'm going to talk to each of these three guys. Some of it will be good, some of it will make you cringe, and some of it is likely to get all three opponents gunning for me. That's good, because to be quite frank, if you aren't doing that in this match already, you've already lost. I think I'll kick off with none other than the once self-proclaimed Demon King, Famine of the Vile.

I've got to say, I'm a liiiiittle disappointed at the timing with which I got to go up against Famine. Oh, no, it's nothing to do with his ring ability, hell, he's actually doing pretty good for himself. I just find it a tad of a shame that all this time I've been watching this wannabe super-goth prancing around making a complete douche of himself with the SOA, and sitting back in my chair thinking 'man, I'm gonna have so much fun ripping this guy up when I get slotted against him'... and then when it finally happens, he's actually become a halfway-normal guy! I mean, I'm being robbed of my constitutional right to make fun of emos here! It's a bloody outrage is what it is... bah, what the hell, I'm sure I'll have to suck it up and deal with it.

To be honest with you, Famine, I'm surprised it's taken as long as it has for you and I to be slotted against each other. Given the nature of most of your friends- former and current- and given what I was doing before I cocked it up royally at Turning Point- I'd thought it was almost a dead certainty that the Avenger and the Demon King would cross swords at some point last year, or earlier in this one. In some ways I think that this clash is long overdue... then I read the words 'Hell on Earth' and 'Helldome', and I realize that as a matter of fact, it couldn't have come at a better time.

Now, this isn't the first time we've been in opposition to each other- although this is the first time involving an actual match. I believe I clashed with you and your squad while we were all in exile in Dynasty Wrestling. I said something along the lines of 'you boys wouldn't have pulled half the crap you pulled if I had been on Massacre', and you guys reacted with 'you're only Unkillable because you're on Anarchy, we'd sacrifice you to Bill Gates if you were on Massacre, blah blah blah'. It's really kind of pointless now, although I imagine one day I'll have to deal with Scott Young and his challenging of the Devil's Playground every other match he has, but to put it quite simply, I don't forget these little claims and threats of yours. Yes, you may be a changed man and all that, but my belief is that we are all held accountable for the things we say and the time always comes for us to prove them. Always.

That time's come for you, Famine. Tell me- do you still believe what you claimed? Do you think that the only reason I've done so well is that I haven't encountered and clashed with you? Do you believe that if we clashed, which we're about to, you'd be able to do what so many of the toughest wrestlers in the business tried and failed to do and shelf me permanently? I'm quite curious to know- it's in my best interests and your own to know just how much smarter you've gotten since those days. Last time, not so clever, but this time I can't help but wonder if you've had the experience to think of a more clever version of those two claims of yours.

Of course, my Unkillability has been more or less undisputed since Last Breath, for obvious reasons, but if you still feel as though you must try to disprove that, you're free to give it a shot. Hell, this is probably the best setting to test the theory if you're game for that. Be aware, however, that in a setting like this, such an attempt could backfire on you. In other words, you do not want me to be in 'kill or be killed' mode inside a forty five-foot dome that's on fire with weapons everywhere and about five thousand barbs on the walls.

As for me? I do want to test my theory, Famine. There could be a time in the near future where, if I managed to return to the position of locker room leader and the safety of the federation is once again my concern, I have to deal with the latest horde of death and darkness sweeping the land. And let's face it, the SOA haven't exactly been shy about the spread of that mumbo-jumbo being their goal. There may be a time when you hook up with your boys and decide to pull the whole Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse crap again, and the onus could be on me to stop it. I want to be certain I can do that, and a good way of being certain is if I can take you down inside Hell itself. And make no mistake, pal- this is Hell. You and Scott used to talk about it every second sentence, and now you're facing the real deal. It's gonna be interesting to see how you handle it.

Somehow, I don't think you're going to be underestimating me in this, however. Unlike so many people around here, you do seem to have your head on the ground when it comes to me. You will know what I'm capable of, and I think you know just how tough I bring the fight. Well, let me tell you something... you weren't around the last time I was contending for the Universal title. Throw that baby in there, and I tend to fight... a hell of a lot harder. So take what you've seen of me in the past... and bin it, because you won't be needing it and it won't do you any good. Do that... and maybe, just maybe, you'll be as close to being ready for this as you can be in the Helldome.

Now, in addition to Famine, we've got a man who I've clashed with a fair bit throughout my career- not as often as some, but enough to know damn well who the man is- Trent Gein himself. I have to admit, I was just a tad surprised to discover that Trent was going to be in the Helldome, but in an odd way it works out kind of well. It's one thing to have one former veteran of the Helldome- and make no mistake, you only have to be in one of these things to be a veteran- in the fight, but to have two makes things... just a bit interesting. I had the Helldome as a part of the Four Stages of Destiny match at Last Breath, and Trent was in the original full-blown Helldome in 2005. Both pretty earthshaking matches in their own right. And to be honest... I'm looking forward to the first ever clash of the Helldome vets.

It's been a long time since we last fought, Trent. I don't think we've actually had a decent contest since the time of the Black Order. Christ, that feels like an eternity now. You actually didn't handle yourself too bad the last time that you fought- hell, that was just after you proved all the critics wrong and became the Universal Champion. I think that in itself is enough of a warning not to underestimate you. And to be frank with you, the Helldome was one of those moments of yours where you busted out, to be quite frank. You were intimidating in that damn thing, I'll at least give you that. Almost seemed as if you were made to fight inside the damn thing.

Well, so am I.

I found that, much like yourself, I thrive in the environment of the Helldome. Or at least I did the last time I was in it. Oddly enough, we seem to thrive for opposite reasons- the Helldome's tailor-made for your psychotic, chaotic carnage-unleashing nature... while I seem to be one of the few people who can actually walk into the Helldome and keep ice-cold, twisting the very nature of Hell itself to serve the purpose I need it to. Make no mistake about it, it takes a very special breed of person to thrive in the thing. There's four people in the entire world who can make that claim- you, me, Lee Stone, C2. That's it.

Unfortunately, only one man's going to thrive this time, Trent, and I have every damn intention of making it myself. And I think you know damn well what happens when you don't think I can do it. Last time we fought, you were suffering a lot of delusions of grandeur and didn't see what was coming until it's too late. So this time, I hope you'll open your eyes and see precisely what is looming ahead of you. Because make no mistake about it, the Universal shot is the one thing in my head right now, and I will do just about anything to get my hands on it.

But you're psychotic, right? That's fine, so am I. In this setting, you bet your arse I am. They're two different kinds of psychosis, sure, but they're the same. While peons like Andrew Gibson will try to look for an 'easy' way to win this match instead of facing the music, you and I know that all the stops have to be pulled out to win. In your case, that means getting your chainsaw out and God help whoever gets in your way. In my case, that means turning the entire Dome into a weapon- furthermore, that means turning myself into a weapon. I know damn well that I'm probably going to get completely flayed in this match. Then burned. Then flayed a little more. Then I'll probably end up with sulfuric acid in my eyes. Then burned again. Thing is... I don't care. Risks have to be taken- and besides, what's danger when you can cheat death whenever the hell you feel like it anyway?

I have no doubt you'll do your best, I have no doubt I'll do mine. But in the end... I don't think carnage alone is going to cut it. That's an important part of it... but complete devastation and destruction has to be mated to resilience. And if there's one thing I've proven, it's that I have the endurance to survive and to win this. And in the end, it's my opinion that will make the winning difference. You are, of course, welcome, no, encouraged, to try and stop me. But if I have it my way, you won't succeed.

You've got your chainsaw, I've got my fists and feet and my spirit. Let's rock and roll.

[Back To RP]
LOCATION: SJ's Room, Richards Conglomerate HQ, Las Vegas, Nevada
DATE/TIME: 9:00AM, Wednesday April 25, 2007

That was Dougy's voice. Most definitely. Steve shifted his head slightly, grumbling to himself as the dull headache from the assault at the hand of Gibson's paid thugs returned as his senses gradually began to re-attune themselves to the real world. Sure enough, the clear air was beginning to sink into his lungs, and his vision cleared up before too long, allowing him to see the full reality of the world in front of him.

Sure enough, he was in his lodgings at one of the dorms in the Conglomerate skyscraper. Although now it was considerably lighter, and the sun streaming in from outside indicated to Steve that he had been asleep for at least eight or nine hours. Just as well, after the chaotic events of Massacre he had been in need of it. The room itself was somewhat utilitarian and small- by Steve's choice, not by the Conglomerate's. The Avenger-Kai hung on the wall next to his simple single bed, and a pair of sais hung underneath it, but other than that, the white walls were surprisingly bare. Teal carpet decorated the floor, where a simple chair, desk and computer were set up. Steve himself was decked out in the white sleeveless t-shirt and black trackpants he usually wore when asleep. Dougy stood directly in the doorway, a broad smirk on his face as he held a tray of mixed fruit in one hand.

"Tals thought she'd get you started on your Helldome preparation by sending you up with some healthy eating, man..." Dougy told him, proffering the tray, "It's rabbit food, yeah, but it should do the trick."

"Much appreciated, man..." Steve mumbled, swinging his legs out of bed and into a sitting position, his eyes clearing up a little more as he peered around the room. His office chair seemed to have been moved- and it didn't take him very long to find it. It was set on the far end of the room, facing him. It was also occupied. Ariasha was sitting in it, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling and her head leaning on her hands in what appeared to be a peaceful sleep. In spite of that, resting in her hands was the longsword Steve had seen from the dream. That caused Steve to blink a couple of times.

"Er... what's she doing here?"

"Oh, she's been here all night, mate. She's been watching you just in case Gibs comes back to Vegas and tries to send some of his douchebags to finish the job."

"With a sword?"

"I'm guessing she wants to make damn certain said douchebags think twice about trying again." Dougy replied with a deep laugh, "I can kick her out of here if it bothers you."

"No, no, that's fine. Just a bit surprising to see her in here, that's all. She's probably had much less sleep than I have, so might be best to leave her." Steve hopped up to his feet and made his way over towards Dougy, taking the tray from him, "Much appreciated, dude. Have you been watching your back?"

"Yeah. I've been careful. Talia's been a little worried that the next step Gibs would take after having you assaulted by underlings would be to come after one of us again, so she's had security stepped up." Dougy smirked, shaking his head, "She even tested the anti-kidnapper chip without telling me. I was at McDonalds minding my own business, and suddenly twenty Conglomerate guys burst into the place. We were able to pass it off as some random Vegas thing, especially given they're all wearing those cheesy colored suits anyway, but still..." He laughed, shaking his head, "It's all good. Talia's untouchable, I've got a chip, and Ariasha will shish-kebab anyone getting close to her with that sword of hers."

"Lovely." Steve paused between mouthfuls of fruit to speak, "As it is, you won't have to worry for much longer. I've been thinking, and I've decided that if Gibson wants to make this a personal war, then the prick's going to get a personal war. And the Helldome is one of the few places that will actually make it possible to unleash enough damage to stop his threat once and for all."

"You don't say? What's the plan?"

"Either traumatize him so much that he won't screw with me again, or alternatively turn the bastard into a vegetable." The last part was said with such cold indifference that Dougy's brow raised ever so slightly- but for obvious reasons, he chose not to make an issue of it.

"What about interference? The last two times you fought Gibs, he's tried to use the advantage of numbers. And the fact he's already tried to have Squid and Dan soften you up indicates he might try again."

"He can't. Not in the Helldome."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I'm going to hold off the explanation until the promo..." Steve answered casually, "But suffice it to say that no footpad of his is getting into the Helldome."

"That's a relief..." Dougy nodded, breathing a sigh of relief to match, "Are you sure you're ready for this, Steve? You know exactly what the Helldome is. You remember the mess you were after it. And that was a condensed version of it, man. If you really don't want to do this, you can back out..."

"No. I can't pass up this opportunity, and furthermore, I can't let Gibson get away. I've had to put up with his crap for far too long. I let him go now, it's only a matter of time before he comes after one of you. Or..." He motioned with his head to Ariasha, "...her, more likely."

"Yeah. She idolizes you, you know..." Dougy observed with a sly grin, "She's pretty withdrawn and austere around everybody, but she's got all the respect in the world for you. Have you ever actually seen her after you agree with her or compliment her? It makes her day, man."

"No, I haven't."

"That's because you're too icy and machine-like, man. How long did it take you to realize Kitten- or Heather for that matter- were head over heels for you? It's like that. I'm a people person, so I can see it. You are her world, man..."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." Steve answered uncomfortably, shifting the slightest bit, "Her group hold me in high regard. They're another one of the ones who buy into the whole 'Avenger' thing- but they're completely on my side, unlike the Setsujoku-Kai who feel I have to be controlled."

"It's got nothing to do with that, mate. What she's got goes far beyond that. And let me tell you... while you might have decided not to play the hero any more, like it or not, you'll always be hers."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Steve answered, chewing on his lip, "That just gets people hurt, Dougy. It damn near almost killed Kitten. Heather. Even Dan was a target before he let his self-interest get to him."

"That's her choice, not yours. There's not a lot you can do about it. And I guess that's another reason why you've got to get Gibson and put an end to it. I'm not so bothered about myself, but you're right when you say the others are at risk. And as long as he can get away with it, others will try the same. You have to stop this forever, and there's only one way to do that. Make an example of him."

"Guess you're right..." Steve conceded flatly, "That means there's only one thing left to do."

"And what's that?"

Steve didn't answer Dougy's question with words- at least not yet. Instead, he merely took a number of measured steps over towards the wall his katana and sheath were mounted on. He took a moment to admire the white-gold hilt, examining the majesty of the Asian dragon on it before reaching for the hilt and pulling the long, razor-sharp blade of the Avenger-Kai loose with a sharp whistle. At the same time, he turned back to Dougy and answered his question.

"Go to war."

[Back To Steve's Thoughts]

And that brings me to the last opponent of this match. A man who I have so much disgust and disdain for, that I've had to reserve a dedicated half of this promo to make damn sure I get out everything I want to say to him. You may remember him as the man who abused his own daughter to try to get a Universal title shot... you might also remember him as the cockroach who tried to murder Lillith Groves because she wouldn't slam-dance with him... and if you didn't know him for those two things, you might remember him as the man who's come back about fifty times only to run out of steam and get torn to pieces within weeks... Andrew 'The Tool' Gimpson, ladies and gentlemen!

Now, let me go on record by saying something. I knew that I had Gibs a little spooked when I went after him upon returning. Hell, the look on his face after I'd told him I was going to go after him one more time was enough to suggest that. But I really didn't know I had him that frightened as to require him to pay the Church of the Almighty Dollar to try to soften me up- and for that fear to clog his brain enough for him to actually believe it'll help him! Because make no mistake, while I'm quite pissed off at losing to the team of Squid Money and Archangel- who from here on in will be referred to as 'The late Daniel Malcolm'- those two douches didn't get the job done, Gibson. I'm still standing, I'm still capable of unleashing hell, and I'm going to humiliate all three of you when I still rip you limb from limb!

What, you actually thought you'd be at an advantage by having those two attack me? How, Gibson? Last time you had someone soften me up before fighting you, you still had to call in a corrupt referee to refuse to count for me. Effectively, I was still powerful enough to instill fear in you. What made you think it'd be any different this time? Because I'm three years older? Heh- don't make me laugh. No, Andrew, I think all you've actually managed to do is make me a hell of a lot angrier, and in the Helldome, that is the stupidest thing you could possibly do. That move of yours just made George Bush look like Stephen Hawking.

I don't think you completely understand where you are, Gimpson. This is the HELLDOME, buddy. HELL-DOME. You called in Squid and Archangel? Good on you, pity you can't call on them again when the actual match is on! The friggin' thing is forty-five feet tall, it's covered with serrated barbs, it's locked down, surrounded by security and firefighters, and in the advanced stages, the whole dome is lit on fire! Archangel and Squid aren't getting in there! Neither is Mike Extremer! It's going to take enough of a miracle for us to get out of there, let alone somebody getting in! The one advantage you have ever had over me in the last two years is gone! Whether you like it or not, Gibson, you now have to fight me on regular terms. God help you.

And I don't exactly think the two other Helldome competitors will help you, either. Famine of the Vile isn't going to just hand you the Universal contendership, he wants it too much for that. And Trent Gein is going to attack anything that moves. You're screwed, Andrew. Completely screwed.

Now I know what you're going to say next- 'oh, I beat Steve Jason twice, I can do it again!' Yeah, you made that mistake once before, relying on the past and the past alone, and as I recall it, I crushed your larynx and beat you. Now, you're probably going to whine at this point about it being a 'tag' match and your partner being to blame. Well, given my partner and yours were both fighting, and given I spent the majority of the time fighting you, and given I pinned you, I think that counts. And hell, if that doesn't count, then neither do the two handicap matches you beat me in- including the one where you had to have a corrupt referee refuse to count for me- and we're right back to square one!

Besides, on one hand you seem to recycle the past like a living, breathing copy of the Bible- but the present ain't so impressive, pal. You blather on about big wins in 2004... but how many 'big wins' have you had recently, Gibson? Hell, how many wins have you had recently? You were so frightened that you deliberately lost to Squid Money and Blizzard, two of the biggest bitches in recorded history... then you let Centurion and Dre maul you... and then you give Zach Rizza an unconditional surrender because you're too afraid to fight him. This is what the mighty Blade has become? Jesus Christ, I'd have committed ritual suicide before I let myself become as sloppy as you have!

Wake up, Gibson. 2004 is over- just like 2002 was over before it. So far, all living in the past has done for you is leave you easy prey for the up-and-comers of the XWF. You never got that, Andrew. You just never seemed to understand that evolution's a continual thing. What, you thought one leap would be enough to set you up for life? No. Truth is, Andrew, I've never stopped evolving. I didn't settle for one leap and think it was good enough. I've kept on going.

Sad fact is, Andrew, for all your 'I'm better than you' talk, you've always been frightened of me. Remember what happened after you screwed me out of the Universal title in 2004? I roused a rebellion and chased you and your corrupt GMs out of the XWF and had it closed down. And do you remember when you tried to kidnap Dougy to blackmail me? Remember when Dougy got loose? Do you remember, Gibson, fleeing the XWF and CWF at escape velocity, hoping to put as many miles between you and my katana as possible? Poor Blizzard got to face the brunt of your wrath at the end. I took his title and his career at the end. Unfortunately, I only finished half the job.

Fortunately, you were too fucking stupid to stay away. I never forgot, Gimpson. I still haven't. I remember exactly what you did to my best friend to try to blackmail me into giving you what you want, and every day I've been waiting for the opportunity for revenge. Well, it's here, Andrew... and you can't run away this time. In the Helldome, there is nowhere to hide. I will finally have your worthless arse where I want you, and the best thing is, you're paying for it all at once. The 2004 screwjob, the part you played in my attempted poisoning in 2003, Dougy's kidnapping, your continual bragging and name-dropping, the assault on Talia, having me beaten down by Dan and Squid... each and every last bit of it you pay for in blood right now.

I could not have picked a better time to abandon playing the 'hero'. Because now there is absolutely nothing to stop me shoving your body straight into the flames of the Helldome, listening to you shriek, scream, beg for mercy as the flames scorch away at your skin. You'll probably need to have yet another plastic surgery job on your face after I've put that in the fire long enough. And from there, there's nothing to stop me shoving you right into the Helldome wall, sticking your back into about twenty barbs, and then kicking your body straight off it and flaying about half your back in the process. It's all possible and it will all happen.

And in the end, I will leave you a charred, ripped-to-pieces, broken, battered, destroyed, unidenfiable wreck, leaking blood and God knows what else, face down in the middle of Hell... WHERE YOU BELONG!

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!

[RP OUT]