Riddle Me This... Riddle Me That... Is Keith Afraid?

Mistakes… Mistakes indeed Mr. Keith Hardin…
I guess everyone makes mistakes. Even people that can’t afford to make them. People like heart surgeons, people like rocket scientists, even people that don’t control other human beings’ lives make them. Yes, even Keith Hardin and his Stalker make mistakes. The trick is to mask them though. Even better, bend them and use them in your own advantage. Some say the Mystery Stalker has made a mistake that cannot be bend. A mistake that cannot be masked, not even if time could erase it. But is he in the right position to make mistakes? What if I told you the Mystery Stalker has made mistakes, without anyone noticing them. Stronger even, what if I told you the Mystery Stalker CAN make errors. I’m just toying with your minds here, try to get the grey cells to work. Reversed psychology maybe. But if the Stalker makes those errors, Keith Hardin must make them as well. And what if not The Mystery Stalker, but Homicidal Keith Hardin is the one that slips up time and time again. Has the Stalker shown a stroke of brilliance by fooling everyone into his sick mind game? Has he been able to make everyone think that Keith Hardin has driven his enemy into a corner and is ready to contaminate him with a lethal dose of poison? Or is this merely another scheme to put people on the wrong path? For all I know, the Mystery Stalker could be fuming in rage right now, smashing everything in sight. Or he could sit down and laugh. Just like he’s done for the past two months. This Sunday, all the questions will be answered. This saga will finally come to an end as either Hardin gets his well deserved victory, or the Stalker proves that he is the most intelligent man alive as he emerges victorious yet again. As some are coming dangerously close to his identity, the Stalker has denied any more interviews with either Michael Cole, Jonathan Coachman or any other XWF Interviewer. Too many “smart” guys that want to trick him, and that makes him nervous. And when he’s nervous, he can’t think straight.
But Keith, before you jump off your chair in extreme joy. I never mentioned he is nervous. The Mystery Stalker is always one step ahead of everyone. When you think you’ve driven him off into a corner, he turns the room around. Things are getting very hot, they’re slowly but heating up. And maybe Holy War will be too small a stage to settle this. But that will remain to be seen…
In the last few days, Keith Hardin has been absolutely vocal, while The Mystery Stalker has kept pretty quiet since the last time he chased Michael Cole and Jonathan Coachman out of the room. Yes, he might be terrifying to those two. But that was merely a small game. The game that’s going on with Keith Hardin is much bigger and much more important. Now there has been an important change. The Mystery Stalker used to be the only one that made a move with his pawns, but Keith Hardin – Homicidal Keith Hardin that is – has decided that two can play that game, and moved a pawn of his own. The XWF Commissioner kidnapped Ted Irvine and made it public. That’s a felony. And by the time you are reading this, the Halifax police has already been notified of this crime. They were tipped anonymously as they got a tape carrying Keith Hardin’s promo. It’s a race against the clock for the Commissioner now… But as a matter of fact, the Mystery Stalker could care less about Ted Irvine. Even if it would’ve been his father, it doesn’t hurt him. A victim is a victim? That might have been so, a long time ago. But not now. He would not have come after Keith if he would have a weak spot. Or at least not a weak spot that would’ve been so easy to find out.
Keith Hardin merely copycats his enemy. An eye for and eye. A father for a father. But that’s alright. There are no rules in love and war, especially not in a Holy War. As Keith pointed out, it’s about who plays the game better…
The Mystery Stalker now decides it’s time to step out of the shadows, and slowly but certain, reveal everything about this “game”. Playing cards is fun, toying around with The Mystery Stalker… Well, that’s when it becomes dead serious.
Trees are rocking as a slow, cold wind blows past them. The wind touches the Stalker for a split second, licks his face with an icy tongue. Then the Stalker tucks his head deeper into a long, black coat. Nothing but a set of cold eyes can be seen as the camera tries to get a clear view of his face. But to no avail. A baseball cap makes sure the face stays cloaked in darkness, as it should be. His hands are put deeply into the pockets of the coat, the Stalker wants to reveal nothing but a cold, frightening stare. He knows all eyes in the XWF locker room are watching him right now. He’s the centre of attention, and he loves every second of it. Even Keith, in all his fury, is watching this. And for the Stalker, that thought is so satisfying, it gets close to being sexual. His controlled breath comes out in small clouds, as The Stalker gets ready to speak…

The Mystery Stalker: Commissioner Keith Hardin. The Homicidal One. Mr. 187. What on earth are you think you’re doing? Do you actually believe that your little actions touch me? Do you believe they make my blood boil? Do you believe they make me cry? Those are feelings I’ve learned to ignore a long time ago, Keith Hardin. And even IF I would feel them, you would not notice. For you don’t look at me, Keith Hardin. You see me, but you’re not looking closer. You ask me questions I already answered. You make statements I already wiped off the table before you uttered them. You’re behind on me Keith. Not in terms of appearance. No. You’re shown your face more than I’ve showed mine, but then again, you always showed your face in places where it didn’t belong, did you? I’m not talking but the amount of time you’ve wasted by spewing out the same words over and over again. I’m talking about the one-upmanship we are playing here. A friend for a friend, Keith Hardin? I don’t have any friends. I’d rather kill them off before you got to them, and that’s the bitter truth. You don’t know how sick I am, Keith Hardin. The only reason I did not kill your son or slaughtered that Briana Banks bitch, or finished off that piece of trash you dare to call a father – is because it’s you I want! I don’t care about anyone else, Keith Hardin. And I’m not too fond of innocent blood. But your blood, Keith Hardin, is valuable. Every drop you shed is worth millions in heavy, 24 karat gold. It’s your blood I want, and if I have to sacrifice everyone around me, I will, just to get to you! You were chosen, Keith Hardin. Chosen by me, because you claim to be someone you’re not. And I can hear you think, Keith Hardin. “Oh, I’m not Homicidal? This Sunday, I’ll show you how Homicidal I am!” But please, Mr. 187… Be original for a change! We faced before, Keith Hardin. We fought for a special XWF Title, and I came out victorious. You could not take away what was mine. But you made it to Grand Slam Champion, Keith Hardin. And I did not! While I was so much better than you! Fans were donating kidneys away, just to be one a picture with me. While you did nothing but ride the fluke train and beat nobodies to become a somebody. At least in your own sickened mind…
You think that everyone respects you back here for what you’ve done… While everyone secretly praises me, for driving you back into a corner and showing what a bitch you truly are. Sure, you stand up to me. You play the game by my rules. But who wouldn’t? You think you have a choice, Keith Hardin? You think I would let you pick the rules? I let you pick the match and give my power away? I’m in the driver’s seat here, Keith Hardin. And I like to flex my muscles. I’m like God in a way. I don’t like to create, I rather destroy. And at Holy War, I will destroy Homicidal Keith Hardin! You believe that people respect you for playing along. But do you think you have a choice? For two months, I had to get your attention. Any normal human being, wrestler, announcer or even golf caddy would’ve stood up. Revenge doesn’t lead you, Keith Hardin. Rage is your primal feeling. You feel rage, and then get driven by the urge to seek revenge. That’s not bravery though. That’s stupidity. At least in your case it is. You might throw off all the blows I’ve thrown at you, but do you think I’ve thrown them to you to hurt you, Keith Hardin? Do you actually believe I was stupid enough to think that would break because of that? If I wanted you to break and go mental, Keith Hardin, I would’ve killed everyone you know. But I didn’t… Why? Because I want to make sure you’re still in one piece when I lay my hands on you. I want to make sure I have “Homicidal” in front of me. Not the bitch “Keith Hardin” I beat before. I want you at full throttle. And judging by your actions, I know you are. And that doesn’t scare me, that doesn’t make my penis shrink as you with a sick porn star fetish might think. No… As a matter of fact, it brings me joy you try and play along with me. There’s only one thing you haven’t really understood… YOU THINK YOU GOT ME BY THE BALLS??

The Mystery Stalker throws his head back and continues in a high, weird, psychotic laughter. The camera pans back, and you can tell how the crew wants to leave. But they all know The Stalker won’t let them, because he likes being in charge of things. Or let people think he’s in charge of things…
His eyes are now gazing back into the camera, and suddenly the laughter gets an abrupt ending….

The Mystery Stalker: You’re not telling ME what goes down, Keith Hardin. The thought of you thinking you have me where you want me, is saddening. From a man that claims he’s Homicidal, I would’ve expected a little bit more grey cells. You should know by now, that I don’t care about anyone else but myself! To tell you even more, if you don’t throw poor little Ted Irvine down onto those rocks, I will come out there and do it for you! You’ve kidnapped him, Keith Hardin. And you made it public. To use your words… “That’s a felony”… A race against the clock will begin for you know, as police is searching for you AND Ted Irvine. Now, the difference between you and me is, people know your name… They don’t know mine though. Yet. But don’t be afraid, Keith Hardin. I haven’t sent them your direction yet. But I would hurry up… As soon as they pick up your tracks, they’ll be on you. Imagine how bad it would be if you spent the night of Holy War in prison… I mean. The idol of so many young kids that come to see XWF…. In prison? That would be bad, right? But then again, if I beat you to a bloody pulp – they won’t look up to you either. They’re all kids like Epic. All looking up to Keith as if he could beat Superman in a split second. Buying cans of hair spray, acting like the Commissioner, form their own Cabinet. These are the ones that will lose respect for you, Keith Hardin. When you – their super hero, Mr. 187 – fail to overcome the odds that are stacked so heavily against him. When they realize Keith Hardin isn’t Homicide. Keith Hardin is… Keith Hardin. When Superman became just a muscular guy in a blue stretch suit, you will become the muscular guy with the painted hair and the cool way of talking. As for the locker room. You’ve won and lost the World Title, Keith Hardin. But you never beat me for it. You enjoyed a fancy ride on the fluke train, as you always did… How many times did you win a Title, when your opponent failed to show up? When he didn’t cut a damned promo or even wrestled a match? Some even call your XWF Heavyweight Title win a mistake, as it was an Earl Hebner screw up. But I give credit were credit is due, Keith. You are a Grand Slammer. But when did you start it, and when did you finish it? How long did it take for you to become Grand Slam winner? I admit, you are one. And I’m not calling you a bad Superstar. But don’t get carried away, Mr. Hardin… I’m merely summing up the facts… Things I know long before I decided to choose you as my special victim. I’m not telling anyone a secret here by reviewing them. I’m reminding everyone, including yourself, of what your reputation is. I’m reminding them of what’s at stake. It’s not a normal match, it’s not about redemption. It’s about everything you stand for. I have nothing to lose, but the mask I have on my face. But you, Keith Hardin… I don’t feel a thing when I reach down in my belly. But you, once you look back at everything, and look ahead at this Sunday. Don’t you feel how your stomach goes numb? Isn’t the thought, that you might actually be beaten this Sunday at Holy War, driving you up the wall? Or are you as cold as ever, Keith Hardin… We talk about mistakes. We talk about fatal errors… What if your mistake consists of not fearing me? Will that be your fatal error, Homicidal? Don’t let the fact that you think you’re playing this game bring you down this Sunday. I want to receive all honour for that… You’re undergoing it, Hardin. Not playing. Don’t make a mistake… Because it could very well cost you your career!

The Mystery Stalker steps back, even deeper into the threatening shadows behind him. Quiet laughter can be heard again. Terrifying laughter. They’ve heard and seen enough, if they want them to stay longer, they can go fuck themselves! The camera man lifts the camera off of his shoulder and turns around. They’re not coming back to this forest. Not when this lunatic walks around here. No, they’d rather be alone on a graveyard on Halloween. Ghosts aren’t real, this guy is… If only Keith Hardin sees that…
They know…
They fear…