The truth can be a dangerous thing, fraught with perils and mistake. Backwards facts hiding everything lead to conclusions we do make. We think them to be logical, assume them to the be true. But one can only form a choice upon what has been given you.

Ignorance is to believe a web of lies built to decieve, every strand placed meticulous, designed only to mislead.

He was only nineteen, fresh from graduation. When he wanted a change, follow a new constellation. He studied in Berlin, making notes of human nature. He left for Brazil to hunt a whole other creature. He was still but a man just like all rest, love and pain proudly burning, vigor bursting inside his breast. He knew that there was more than this, more for him to see. There must be a way to test, for him his strength to see.

In Spain he lost it all, stripped down to barren raw.

In Rome he was rebuilt, better than they ever thought.

Year three he spent in the Persian East, well after Desert Storm. Worked with men of a different breed in a trade out of the norm. He learned to test a man for lies, to weed out the truth. By holding pliers before his eyes, with fire to burn the wound. He found his soul was tested, beyond any reasonable compare. Humanity pushed to a breaking point for which there's no repair. His spirit hurt but far from broken, he took his leave for Greece. Lessons learned his only token, he searched out a different peace. His trail led him soon to Paris, beneath the veil of night. He learned of a thing new; a thing terrible, thing true. About himself about others and the last but a clue. He wasn't proud of his calling, but he did what he must. When they see pain they start stalling, a trigger ends all the fuss.

A murderer is a killer. No matter what his name.

No difference how you take a life, in the end it's all the same.

Eventually he longed just to escape, cutting ties that would not mend. A mentor's lesson was stole with tape, flight to places he could blend. In Phuket, Karst he found reprieve, found a place that he could grieve. A life he wanted to take him away, never forget how he felt that day. Faith is not something that is bought but found, inside of your heart where it makes no sound. It's hidden clever deep but once you've found it it's yours and your's alone for you to keep. It's not something that judges nor cares what you've done. Where you've been where you're from.

For this he bowed his head. Put aside his tainted gun.

He would rather be dead than continue to run.

He sought to fight and end his life with honorable demise. But they found and killed another man they believed was him in disguise. The resemlance was simply uncanny, a tourist he must be. His faith had been rewarded with blood, as his past had been in seed. A new path before him became laid bare, a new life for which he must prepare. Surely there were prices for the choice he made that day, never he could tell another, not a word he could say. It had been four long years, since he'd thought he had a home. His new name had a family, a life could be his own. He wanted to go with John, but the pictures in the wallet, said to Shawn with love thus born from a pocket. SC had a flourish, a power that he liked, off to Bangkok he vanished, abroad long roads he hitchhiked.

He started with Kung Fu, working odd jobs by moonlight, with a master named Wu who believed that he could fight.

Found his way through Jiu Jijtsu like a green colored rook, but he took to Russian Sambo like a fish in a brook.

Studied with thai boxers, laboured long and hard for food. They weren't much for talkers, but he knew they called him fool. He picked up Tae Kwon Do in a town called Guang Ci, Korean place he lived in before deciding to cross the sea. He stopped in Japan, to start where he thought he should, on independant circuits hidding beneath a golden hood. They called him a dragon, a predator by all measures. They said he had it in him, but he wanted more than just treasures. It was a drug in his veins, the need for competition. All his life he sought for challenge, but found only an equation. He didn't need kill, torture, nor maim; need only be better, make them see his new name. The millenium arrived with a new era of choice. Shawn's ideas took form and his dream given voice.

The last place he dared go, the one place he must be.

America the brave, the land of the free.

Debuted in a small promotion, fueled by politics and greed. He attacked with only a notion, in their hearts he did seed. The relentless pervasion, the climb to exceed. There was fame, there was money, all that he need. But without satisfaction, he'd again been decieved. He met a man by the name Wade, Garrett the first, he said 'boy you can fight, but you couldn't wrestle any worse.' Days became weeks which spawned months in return. Shawn Christopher trained and then quickly he learned, plotting and planning with stoic taciturn.

When the time had come for serpent to shed skin.

He took what he gained and turned to old sin.

He followed a habit, a similar monster bent to night. To National Championship Wrestling, he'd be eluded by Jonathan Knight. The plan had a flaw, a simple mistake. An outcome Shawn saw but just a little too late. For Jordan and Eva had a plan of their own, turn the tables on Shawn and reap the seeds he had sown. When I found him he was broken, bent, beaten, and lost. He'd been double crossed by the people he trust. A knife in the back into his heart it was thrust. Jordan left him in the desert, in Mexico to die. But Eva didn't know Shawn knew to survive.

They thought they had everything they needed to know.

Except the very things they needed know most.

He learned and adapted same as he always had done, a desire for vengeance was seething and clung. A plan he had formed, sparked and executed. Performed without flaw and then he returned persecuted. The Marauder is me, made of leather and hope, a lesson I bring and a name I bestow. The proud are the strong, the valiant and free. But I led him not wrong, I made him humble you see. Almost a year did he spend, hiding beneath my visage. Another year in the ten he's spent sharpening his claws.

He could trick them all except for me, no secret he holds he's able to keep.

But a secret for the mask is a secret kept well for not a person in the world could ever I tell.

He's no longer like the other men, I've seen inside his soul. His world is of a foreign ken, his very fabric is frozen cold. Everything's become an angle and every person but a pawn. With anyone he dares to tangle but fear there is just one. It is not the ring but people that he knows so well, it's your nature, your evil and by your eyes that he can tell.

And in the eyes he can see his forlorne destiny to be beaten by a better and a better he does seek.

Between the lines of lies I spy the truth behind his notion. Form a scheme to breed a dream he's figured a solution.

Every chain is built of links, be it long or be it short. The weak link he has found, but he has yet to exploit. He says all in good time, and I believe him I do. If the rest knew him like me, then they would fear him too. He's led them to believe he's not worth their time, underestimate a man just stepping into his prime. He keeps me around for faded memories, reminders of his humanity, a time when he was weak. I listen to the things he says, and the more he then does speak.

Clandestine talk of glory, honor, loyalty and greed. Vengeance, virtue, violent streaks, and a long forsaken creed.

He speaks of hobos holding title belts and rampant Fijian lions. Jewels of the Seas, angry celts, and an Empire built by titans.

The road has been long, he looks back now without sorrow. Then he says that it's a start, but the real fun comes tomorrow. As every path ends, come they from here and from there, they converge upon an arrow, pointing out to anywhere. My time left must short, for he sees me now much less. If only I could convince him to abort his maligne plans for success. Though as well as I am able to listen; learn, I'm impotent to converse in turn.

Ignorance is to find happiness in a world built out of bliss, spotted moments of carelessness, jubilant release.

Even if I could tell just one, tell a man what I know. I think I'd lie and tell him quiet to just pack up and go home. So while I have a story true, a warning grave and a feeling blue. I cannot warn those so brave, I must let them see the truth. Knowing where he comes from won't help them when he's done. I'd tell them simply one time: 'Be wary the snake his tongue.'

~-~-~-~

This is the big day. This is where your aspirations come true, and you square off with the best. This is where you find out if all the hard work put into building up to this was worth it. This, my friend, is where you realize only one thing.

I’m on a completely different level.

But at the same time, I thank you for taking such a huge leap. I thank you Heather and Jason for marching through the tournament to get to this moment. I thank you MC for coming back to go after what you desire. See, tonight is when my story becomes solidified for the ages. This is where I leave my name in stone, forever in remembrance.

I’m writing history as we speak.

It’s been a long, hard road. But it’s nearly over. The final act of 2007 is in place, the stage is set. Everything is coming together. But it seems there is still three people who aren't on the same page.

Therefore, I’ma have to crush your faces.

You're just shadows to the big players in this game. You might find down the road, that once we're gone, our paths fully finished, you'll finally have your chance to be something big. But right now, you're supporting my reign, and cosigning for me. You're just another step in the long climb of stairs.

It's just a shame that this is how it's gonna end. We’re supposed to carry the burden of our era; it’s tremendous weight crushing our back. But see, I don’t fucking care about being famous anymore.

I don’t care whether or not people like me; if you fucking like me. I’ve survived long enough on my own. I’ve traveled roads neither of you could bare stepping foot on. You’ve been successful MC Terrible, but you seemed to fizzle out.

Heather, on the other hand, is striving to reach the level she once was. But she's found it harder this time around, than in previous times. She's overlooked the level of competition because he bitch ass isn't used to facing anyone worh a damn.

You Jason, you decided to create a persona for yourself. You began to speak in tongue, and proclaim the second coming of god, or the devil, or whatever the hell you pretended to be.

You fed on the weak.

Now you’ve become weak yourself. You’ve portrayed a false image for so long, you’ve forgotten what got you there. But I don’t fault you for that, I give you credit. You was on your way to controlling the entire XWF by yourself. And you would have;

If Soul Bearer hadn’t ruined the plans.

You’ve prophesized a new beginning, an end to the society we’ve grown accustomed to. I applaud you for the advances you’ve made, the changes you’ve already incorporated.

But I’ve evolved too.

I’ve seen the darkness, which clouds your thoughts, the disaster you’re beginning to become. There is failure that awaits you; but I’m sure you’ve already seen the storms coming. This time Jason, there can’t be any salvation for your legacy. The final page has been inked, a story of success ending tragically. But there will be sunnier days for you three; there will be light again.

Unfortunately for you three, it won’t be on Sunday. My kingdom has been rebuilt above the ashes of it’s prior. I’ve become the solitude of success again. You can only learn from your mistakes; lord knows I did.

So bring all that you're got. I'm going to break your bones... you're pride... you're spirit.

As my cousin used to say when he was beating down Jason's hasbeen uncle...

... long.live.the.king.