When we last left Jakk Manhattan, the new found wrestler from Manhattan, he had finally found his calling in the GWA. Fate and destiny had alot to do with where Manhattan is right now, and he recognizes that. Gambit, Jakk's blood brother, had joined the GWA just a week earlier, seeking his own vendettas. The two formed a tag team, realizing the competition wasn't much to be had. Their first match, Union Jakks versus Silver n' Gold, the reigning tag team champions. The titles were not on the line that fateful night, but it wouldn't have mattered much for the Union Jakks. Great performaces by a motivated Silver and Gold team, and a bad start and some mistakes by the Union Jakks cost them the match. Gambit and Jakk were left in the ring that night, knowing full well they could have beaten those two. Jakk sits in the locker room with Gambit after their match, both sore and tired, Jakk seemingly alot more out of shape than Gambit.

Gambit: Tough match out 'der, eh mon ami?

Jakk: We could've had that match if we wanted to. We made some mistakes, it cost us.

Gambit: Yea, we'll get 'em though, Jakk.

Jakk: I know, I know. Those belts will be ours. I just haven't lost a match in awhile, I forgot what it felt like.

Gambit: Crappy, eh?

Jakk: To put it lightly, yes. You probably noticed I could use some time in the gym, huh Gambit.

Gambit: Eh, you weren't 'dat bad in 'der, but yea, a couple of workouts a week couldn't hurt anyone.

Jakk: Except our opponents.

Gambit: Yea, so what are we waiting for mon ami?

Jakk: We got the Grave Diggas next week, for #1 contender spot.

Gambit: Yea, Jakk, we shouldn't have no problem taking them boys out. Just got to be on our game.

Jakk: I hear that one, bon ami.

Gambit: It's mon ami, mon ami.

Jakk: Where did you say you were born again?

Jakk and Gambit share a chuckle as they pick their bodies up from the locker room benches. Towels in hand, they head to their respective dressing rooms, shower, and leave the arena in their street clothes. Jakk and Gambit say their goodbyes for now, and they give each other an encouraging hug.

Jakk: Good to be back Gam. Good to be back.

Gambit: Eh', let's do this next week.

Jakk: We will Gam, we will.

The two leave in opposite directions. Jakk heads back to his hotel, his new living quarters for the time being. As Jakk walks to the counter, he is stopped by the hotel consierge.

Consierge Mr. Manhattan, you have a few pieces of mail for your taking.

Jakk: Thanks. Hey, can I have some champagne sent up to my room, with a bucket of ice?

Consierge Certainly Mr. Manhattan. I will have it sent right away.

Jakk: Nice.

Jakk smirks as he points to the consierge, who nervously nods his head. Jakk flips through the mail. The first one is some radio survey brochure where Jakk might have already won $5000. The second piece of mail is in a gold envelope. Jakk sniffs it, and can smell sort of a combination of perfume and herbal tea. Jakk reads it as he makes his way to his room.

Jakk Manhattan,

You have been hand picked to wage war in battle, as the World Ultimate Underground Fighting tournament meets it's 300 year anniversary. Being a past champion of the tournament, you must attend, as well as compete, in the event. If you fail to make it to the tournament before midnight of announced night, your soul will escape from your body and you will burn into ashes. See you there!

Jakk seems to just stare at the letter, looking at it like it's a mirage before him. He slaps it on his hand a few times as he tries to look calm ad collect. Jakk then puts the letter in his pocket, and tosses the other one in the garbage.

Jakk: I should've seen something like this coming, just as I am getting settled in.

Jakk shrugs himself off and goes into his room. There is a bottle of champagne on the table, in a bucket of ice, just like he asked. Jakk also notices there is a piece of stationary on his bed. He walks over, reads it, and starts laughing hysterically.

Jakk: Hope you enjoyed the letter, something to take your mind off the loss, lighten up, we'll get 'em next week. Gambit. PS. The shampagne is to forget how out of shape you looked out there. The ice, well, you need that too now".

Jakk chuckles a bit more, a rarity from the Manhattan Mauler, then pops open his champagne. He takes a big swig and slams it down, catching his breath. There is a knock at the door. Jakk opens the door and the room service man is standing outside with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne.

Room Service: You ordered sire?

Jakk: What, are we in the 1800's here.

Room Service: Are you making fun of my accent, sire?

Jakk: No, I'm sorry (chuckles), long day.

Room Service: Do you wish a nightcap for the ev'nin sire?

Jakk: Manchester, that has to be Manchester.

Room Service: Excuse me! Here are your items sire, have a good ev'nin.

The door man leaves in a huff. Jakk leans out the door to look for him. He is gone.

Jakk: Phew, anything to beat a tip.

Jakk goes back into his room as he now has two bottles of champagne and two buckets of ice. He plops down on his bed, laying there for a moment, catching his breath to the reality of these last few days. He starts talking while he stares at the ceiling, as if his communication was with God himself.

Jakk: We're gonna do it. we gonna be champs again. No one can stop us but ourselves. Not Gold n' Silver, not the Grave Diggas, nobody. Were gonna be on top, it's our destiny.

As Jakk's eyelids close, and open, and close, he thinks of the future, of Gambit and Jakk, the Union Jakks, the Grave Diggas. Alot on the mind of the Manhattan Mauler.