"So, just like that... huh? It's over, isn't it Dominic? We won't get to live out our dreams together..."

The soft voice of a sorrowful angel spoke to the mind of the young man who, despite his best efforts, continued to bring hell upon his mind. Crumpled in a ball, back against a wall as he stared at the cement ground in utter silence. These voices would echo through his mind, voices which did not speak the truth, but rather his worst fears.

"It's not true... it's not true..."

The young man's hands soon reached to grasp his head, fingers sliding through locks of hair and clamping down upon the skull below. A strange, animalistic sound escapes the young man's lips... it's the sound of a warrior whose resolve is fading quickly.

"It's okay Dominic... I just want you to live your dreams, okay? I want you to be happy..."

"STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!!"

His skull would crack against the wall as he threw his head back, rocking his body as a shock ran down his spine from the impact. Yet despite all this, his mind would barely register the hit... he was in enough pain as it stood.

"You are my dream..." the young man cried out softly, his chest shaking from the sobs, "You... I can't..."

"Move on, Dominic..." the ghostly voice came once more, "Live..."

Eyes opened softly, and a determination was born again.

"I will live... live in faith that you will not fade away."

The young man would push himself to his feet, wiping the tears from his eyes as he looked down the empty hallway he found himself centered in. The Cow Palace would be filled with many people come Sunday night... but for now, the only souls within were the NLCW staff themselves. The Road 2 Slamfest tournament, and the event itself, were coming much faster then the young man could have anticipated. Was he... was he ready for what was to come?

The sound of laughter echoes through the hallways, as the young man turns to face the sound and see two men walking with clipboards in their hands, joking about the days events; perhaps old times, or perhaps even moments in the past spent with their families.

'You made it through Perry like this...' spoke the warrior in his mind, 'Bucky Skyler will not be any different.'

Yet the human in the young man still wondered how he could prevail. His eyes watch on as the two men continue walking, continue talking, continue living on happily while he himself stood there in such agonizing pain without them noticing a thing. With a sigh, the young man turns once more; turns to face the wall behind him and stare up at the poster hung across it. A promotional poster, a poster with Sunday's date on the bottom. A poster with the name of the Cow Palace beside it... a poster advertising Road 2 Slamfest.

"I'm just... going through the motions, aren't I?" the young man asked himself, "Doing what the company asks like it doesn't matter and... heading home."

His eyes close.

"I'd hate myself for doing this is it were only a few months ago..."

His eyes open... and he looks down the hallway one final time. With a sigh the young man turns himself around, his first step forward awakening his mind to the idea that his body was ready to move, each step thereafter following the pattern in a mechanical perfection. There was no stride in his walk, no bounce in his step... he simply carried on, much as he'd been used to doing.

"Let's get this damn meeting over with," he whispered, "I need to get back to the hotel..."

So the young man continues forward, his attitude just as mechanical as his walk. He stops again, briefly, to stare at the promotional poster for his match with the "Savior", and his eyes narrow at the memory of the words he'd heard spoken from the man. To believe himself capable of deciding fate like this...

... it was the biggest mistake he would ever make.

The young man carries on past the poster, however, knowing well that this savior was only worth his anger in the ring. He shouldn't dwell on it from the outside... that would be exactly what Skyler would want to see happen.

Soon, the young man would reach his destination... and begrudgingly enter through the door to address those who wished to address him.

The two men continue walking, continue talking, continue living on happily while the young man carried on through incredible pain. A figure 'round the corner, however, interrupts their chatter; it's an elder man, annoyedly clutching a phone in his hand.

"Have either of you seen Dominic Pericolo? He's my son, and he was stupid enough to turn his damn phone off."

The elder man got a plane ticket, flew across the US, got a cab to drive him to the arena... all for the sake of telling his son that his fallen angel was fallen no more.