He cracked his knuckles as he looked me over. “Boy- you better start apologizing,” he spat out, “or my fist and your face are going to become very good friends.”

“But,” I began to stutter looking the giant, hairy, man-thing over, “you were the one who tipped the beer over and spilt it on yourself. I had no part in this. Its not my fault you’re a bit clumsy.”

“CLUMSY!?” I made a mistake saying this and now the giant man was shouting at me. This was attracting attention from throughout the bar. I was petrified when I heard some of the regulars shouting for the man to hit me.

“Do it Mark!”

“Beat the shit out of this little piss-ant.”

“Mark- KILL HIM!”

He wasted no time. Right away, he raised his fist and threw it toward me. Immediately I felt the blood running freely from my nose as I touched it. “You.. You.. You just hit me.” I said astonished. “All because you spilt a beer on yourself.”

I wasn’t the only one who was astonished. Everyone else in the bar looked on in awe. I picked up one of the whispers. “He just drilled that punk in the face and he’s still standing. He didn’t even stumble back or anything- he just stood there.”

I continued to stand there watching the blood drip from my nose. He swung at me again, this time with a hook and grabbing my right in the temple. This one I felt and this one I hit the floor on. Looking up I became aware that my vision was very much blurred. On instinct I clenched all the muscles in my stomach and moments later a sharp kick came to my gut. As I rolled over a fist went across my jaw. Jesus Christ- I feel like I’m dying. Well I would feel that I’m sure if I knew what death felt like. I’m pretty sure its something like what I’m experiencing. Or it could be the complete opposite- total bliss, totally painless, totally unmemorable. But I doubt this.

Ever wish you were someone else? Or at least somewhere else? Usually I didn’t- I had a pretty satisfactory life, but right now I couldn’t help but wish this. Damn- its not even working. What’s the point of wishes and dreams if they never come true? They’re just falsehoods being led forth by a pitiful imagination trying to make you feel good about yourself that something good may happen to you even if the likelihood of this happening is very small and nearly nonexistent.

I closed my eyes and just laid there. How simple. I tried to block the pain out but it was obviously not working but I knew I shouldn’t try and fight back. I would just fail. One of me- a lot of them. Screw that I’ll just wait until they finish.

- - - -

I wasn’t quite sure when exactly he finished. Due to the pain I had passed out before they ever finished. He may have finished right after or far after- I wasn’t sure. There was another thing I wasn’t sure of- where I was exactly. The room in which I opened my eyes to was very unfamiliar. Sketchy. I felt a small pain in my right arm. It was more numb than anything and I struggled to open my eyes. I groaned in displeasure as I realized what the pain was- an IV. God do I hate hospitals. And I wonder how I got here. After they all finished cheering that guy on to beat the crap out of me and ‘kill me’ someone probably called the ambulance- from the crowd as well. Ignorance. That should be a sin yet it is not.

I sat up and scanned the room. I called for a nurse and one came walking in. “What is it?” She questioned me harshly. “What do you want?”

What a hooker. “Um. By any chance do you know where my cell phone is? I have to check some messages- been a while since I’ve been home.” She nodded and went to a small closet and pulled my cell phone from it. She literally threw it at me and stormed from the room in disgust. And I wasn’t even being rude to her. Again I say- what a hooker. I flipped the phone open and dialed a few numbers and in no time was connected to my home voice mail. I waited and listened to my messages. What a drag. Got the bank calling for their mortgage payments, then there was the electric company, and Gas an Eletric. The bills are just piling up. I sighed. Harsh times– about to get better.

I smiled. No big deal. Let them take the house- I’ll buy a new one, whatever. After all, November 25 I start my career in Power House Wrestling. Slowly my eyes began to close. Right before I fell asleep a guy burst through the door with a camera crew following behind him. He looked me over and shrugged.

“You’re suppose to be some sort of wrestler?” He questioned me in disbelief.

“You suppose to be some kind of interviewer?” I questioned him back.

“As a matter of fact yes. PHW told me to come to the hospital and interview its newest acquisition in room 325.” He stated firmly. “Now lets get this over with.” He spoke with a cockiness that I didn’t like. I didn’t like him. “Who are you?”

I smirked. I loved this part. “Who am I? You’ve obviously been living under a rock for the past few years- or don’t follow good wrestling in Japan. Who am I? I’m the damn Illuminati. The real god damn deal. I am the future of PHW. You call yourself an interviewer then have the balls to ask a superstar as to who they are.”

“Well excuse me Mr. Illuminati I was in a rush and they never told me. So just tell me your damn name already.” He spoke- his tone was raising. Such ignorance.

“Again. Who am I? I’m the eternal light- or darkness. Whatever your wish may be. I could be the past, present, or future yet only time will tell.” I smirked- obviously avoiding his question as to my name.

“Alright already. Just tell me your name.” He said with his tone still rising. Such pain. Ruthlessness was in his soul yet still allowed himself to always be walked over. I felt bad for him. But he was still an ignorant jackass. “Who are you!?” He blurted out this time not allowing me to go on any further with my rants.

“I am..” I said- pausing. I smiled looking up at him. “I am Jaycee.”

“All this for a name.” He blurted out. I nodded crinkling my eyebrows.

“Well pal- that’s all you seemed to ask for? If I recall your exact words were ‘Just tell me your name. Who are you?’. Yes I believe those were the words. So I give you my name and now you seem to be very much upset by it. Were you expecting something more because you shouldn’t have. You asked a simple damn question so got a simple damn answer after some simple damn delaying.” I was getting a bit anxious. Whatever. He’ll leave soon- I hope.

“Who’s your match against?” Nope- I was wrong. I hated being wrong. Always am I wrong. And what kind of stupid question is this? Its his job to know such stuff yet his ignorance and stupidity proves otherwise. Imbecile. Buffoon. One of my biggest pet-peeves is that of idiocity- which this guy has much of. I stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously. I have no clue. The bastards threw me out of the building and told me where to go. They gave me no lead up information at all.” Oh- I see. Now I kinda of feel bad for the poor guy.

“Uh- Boss. Remember they gave you that paper with the information but it blew out the window on the way here?” The camera man had piped up- the interviewer groaned- I smiled. Stupidity surrounded me. And these were the men responsible for casting whatever I said throughout the entire world. I felt unsafe and a bit worried. Something would get screwed up- lost in translation. I didn’t like the way this was already heading but I had no other choice.

I shook it off and took a deep breath trying to remember. “Well if I can remember correctly from the message they left on my phone- then I believe it is Envy, Hockey Player from Hell, and Nightkiller.” I smiled- how amusing- yet somehow pitiful at the same time. “I remember when names actually meant something and weren’t actually put forth just for recognition. They were meant to bring respect to you and possibly your family. Now what? There are names such as Envy. What a cocky little boy he is. To believe such people as I would wish to be someone such as himself. Disgraceful. That’s false advertising as well. What should we envy about Envy? What can he do that I can’t do? Can he fly because that’s about the only thing I can’t do. Can he give birth cause I can’t do that one either. And is envy not one of the Seven Deadly Sins? We have a sinner on our hands ladies and gentlemen. Envy is defined as the desire for others’ traits, status, abilities, or situation. Alright you possess no traits in which I wish to have. Your status is no where really- for you are starting out just like me. Your abilities are below those of mine so why would I wish to downgrade? And your situation.” I looked down in the hospital bed. I groaned. “Alright. Maybe you have me there. You currently have a better situation than me being that you can do the whole get up and move thing. But give me like four hours or so and I’ll be up and moving about you got that? So what are we envying? Unless.. Unless I so happened to misinterpret. Have I? Are we not suppose to envy you Envy? Are you the one who is envying us? Trying to be like us because we’re just oh-so-much better than you. I get it now. You’re jealous of everyone around you because everyone’s abilities far surpass those of yours. Your name is simply a reflection of the sin you demonstrate the most.” I sat momentarily wondering if my words had actually gotten through. I know my level of thinking if far higher and more sophisticated than that of Envy’s so I should have taken it easy but I was just over taken. “Hold on. You probably didn’t catch any of that. Envy sucks. Jaycee good. Lame-man’s terms. Is that better for you? It better be.”

“What about Hockey Player From Hell?” The interviewer was questioning me. Me- of all people!

“Hey. Hold up there. I’ll get to him a bit later. Right now allow me to focus on the next person- Nightkiller.” I shook my head. How sorrowful. “Another damn Goth with a “messed-up” childhood. Trying to prove something to everyone or do you just like to inflict pain on everyone. The story is always the same. ‘My parents killed them selves’ or ‘My parents were killed.’ ‘I’m here for revenge.’ Blah, blah, blah. Its quite annoying to hear the same thing over, and over, and over again- is it not. Especially the same story told by many different people. Yes- I question why you’re here. And before you go to question why I’m here let me tell you. I enjoy wrestling. I always have since I was a little kid. I watched it every week- nearly everyday and from the mere moment I first saw it I stated that I would be doing that for my life. It was my calling. Sure the whole beating the crap out of a person thing is fun- but I do it because I love wrestling and because its my job. There’s no means of revenge here. And I’ll admit it right off the bat- I do feel pain. I mean, I try not to but you’re not always successful in that line. So go ahead and claim you feel no pain you Gothic SOB- because if you do I will make sure you feel plenty of pain on the 25^th- bet on it. To believe you’re going to have the ability to stand up and actually try and go toe-to-toe with me is just sad. Its very much unlikely that you or anyone else on Eclipse has such talent and ability. And go ahead and call me cocky. Yes- I’m very much cocky I’ll admit that. That’s only because I have earned the right to do so. Maybe not here, but in other places I have- and if that’s not good enough for you then I suppose I’ll simply have to earn that privilege here as well.” I paused momentarily as the nurse came into the room to check on me. God I hated her. I wish I could just get up and leave so I wouldn’t have to see the whore. Much to my delight she left quickly. Lucky me. “Anyway Nightkiller. I’m not going to tell you to quit while you’re ahead because currently no one is ahead we’re all pretty much even and if you did quit then how would I get my fun Friday Night on Eclipse? You’re my means of fun so please don’t be a disappointment like I’m afraid Envy will be.”

“And now Hockey Player From Hell?” The Interviewer asked. I really hate calling this guy ‘the Interviewer” seeing as its so impersonal but the guy never told me his name. However- in response to his question I nodded my head.

“Now Hockey Player From Hell.” The Interviewer smiled. I’m not quite sure why he did so- must have a fetish with hockey mask wearing freaks. Sick-o. I was starting to dislike this fellow more and more as this ‘interview’ proceeded onward. I remained very professional however. “Why the hell do you smile at his name? Got some sort of perverted fantasy about the guy? Pleasure yourself to pictures and thoughts of him do you? Damn you’re gross.” Very professional- and may I add quite mature. “I could honestly give two shit’s about this guy. Hockey Players belong on the ice- ones from Hell belong in Hell. So here is my question for you, him, and everyone else- what are you doing in PHW? Go back to Hell you figure skating faggot. Ever see Southpark? You probably have- well Satin is looking for you.” I smiled- but wasn’t sure how many people would actually get that. It made no difference to me because I got it and that was good enough for me. “I told Nightkiller that he shouldn’t not show up because that would just be a drag- but you. You shouldn’t show up. As much fun as it would be to simply beat the ‘Hell’ out of you.” I started to laugh. “Get it? Cause you’re from Hell.” No one else was laughing so I stopped due to the fact that I felt quite dumb at the moment. “Guess everyone’s intelligence is on a scale below mine. Anyway like I said as much fun as it would be to beat the Hell out of you I just honestly believe having you involved will just drag the entire quality of this match down. I’m not trying to be mean or hurt your feelings I just don’t believe you’re at the same level as us or even close to seeing our level. Then again no one in this match or even show is close to seeing my level but that’s a different subject at hand that’ll be discussed at a different time. Again you can call me cocky at your own wishes but I don’t speak cockiness I simply speak the truth. And you’ll all find answers to the questions you seek at Eclipse this Friday.”

“Answers to what questions?” The Interviewer was questioning me. Question ME! How dare him. His audacity. His atrocity. Either way I answer him.

“The question is ‘Is this guy as good as he says he is or just too damn cocky?’ The answer to this question will be sought and found and you’ll find it to be that I am as good as I say I am.” The Interviewer was about to speak again but I held up my hand cutting him off from his speech. “Enough. Leave me now so I may get my rest and leave shortly. I have to ‘prepare’ for my match and I can only do that if I’m not laid up in a stupid hospital bed. I bid you good day.” Reluctantly the Interviewer and his camera man turned and left.

- - - -