A chilled air.

A full moon.

It couldn't be more perfect.

I stand motionlessly, looking out at a seemingly endless ocean, it's almost invisible waves brushing up against the rock face, not making a sound. I look down, and find myself face to face with the surface of the water, waiting patiently, almost as if it knows.

Perhaps in a subconscious attempt at a delay, I look up, at a near-empty sky. The moon shines down on my face, lighting my now worn and tired features, ruined by weeks, months, years of struggle. I manage a weak smile; I can't help but feel in some way relieved that my final day is as perfect as this.

I have waited far too long, I think to myself. For too long I have put off what was inevitably going to be my fate. there was always a part of me that knew, knew that I wouldn't be able to survive, knew that I wouldn't be able to handle everything that was thrown at me.

And this, this was to be the culmination of it all. Twenty-six years, and all I had to show for it was....

....this.

I take a deep breath, and take one final look at the water below me, it's deep blue depths, like a great creature waiting to devour what was left of me. I step towards the cliff's edge, and exhale slowly. Laughing softly, I outstretch my arms, and fall forward.

Six billion people in the world.

Who would ever know?

With a start, Edwards sat up in his bed, his face dripping with sweat. It could've been the fact that the motel he was staying didn’t have air conditioning in it's rooms, but a more likely explanation was the next in a line of recurring nightmares that Edwards had been having over the past few weeks. Every night, he had gone to sleep, and every night, he had woken up after having yet another nightmare about his own suicide. It'd started off with a simple overdose, but as the weeks went by, his dreams became more and more detailed, more and more...specific.

Edwards rubbed his eyes, and turned to face the dusty alarm clock by his bed. Finding it to be four in the morning, he muttered something under his breath, and rolled out of bed. After a minute of drowsy fumbling for the light switch, he eventually found it, and flicked it on, bathing the room in a dull yellow light. The room was nothing special; in fact, it wasn't much more than nothing. A bed, a bedside table and a clock were all the room featured, and these seemed worn and used.

"Damn nightmares" Edwards muttered to himself. He moved to the other side of the room where his clothes were, and it was immediately obvious that the sleepless nights had taken their toll. Barely managing to stay upright, Edwards was only just capable of walking to his bag, which, much like it's owner, had seen better days. He reached into the side pocket, and pulled out a bottle of what looked like sleeping pills. He took a moment, but instead of opening the bottle, he shook his head, and put the bottle back.

"Sod it" he said to himself, "no way am I spending another hour in this dump".

Edwards removed a pair of jeans and a shirt from his bag, and quickly put them on. With the bag now over his shoulder, Edwards shoved his feet into his old trainers, and without another moment's hesitation, he left the room.

Minutes later, and Edwards found himself standing right outside the motel. he hadn't wasted time checking out, thinking that most people who stayed there probably would up Od'ing or hanging themselves anyway. He began to walk down the road, which was lit up by a line of amber streetlights that lead all the way out of the town that Edwards had found himself staying in.

Truth be told, he had no real idea where he was going. For the last month, he'd simply wandered from town to town, picking up any job he could find, never staying for more than a few days. He had found himself disconnected from the organization that he had re-united with, and was on the run. He was a wanted man; Davis' death had been discovered, and though the police didn't believe that an escapee from a madhouse could be capable of assassinating one of the most powerful men in the country, his associates were very much aware of what had happened, or at least, the basic information that they needed to know. All that mattered was that Edwards had become a marked man, and he had been left with no choice but to keep moving.

With his eyes on the pavement, Edwards kept moving. he still didn't have a clue where he was heading, knowing only that it was time for time to jump to the next town or city that would have him. After a good few minutes of walking, he came upon a bus stop, it's solitary light flickering under it's hole-filled roof. Murmuring, Edwards stepped under the roof, , and lay back against the glass back of the bus stop, letting out a loud yawn. While waiting for the bus, Edwards set eyes upon a promotional poster for the upcoming SFT Pay Per View. He smiled; not a happy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"To think, I used to be their champion" he laughed, his eyes wandering from one corner to the next, as if taking in everything he could see. As his eyes rested upon the Nirvana Open, the roar of an engine sounded in the distance. Edwards look over his shoulder, and saw two bright lights at the end of the road. He picked up his bag, and stepped out under the moonlit sky, his arm outstretched. The bus came to a halt, the doors opened, and Edwards stepped on.

"Where to, pal?" the driver asked.

Edwards hesitated for a second, then a smile formed in the corner of his mouth. "Pittsburgh" he said, passing over a handful of money.

"You going to watch that wrestling show they got there?" the driver enquired.

"Yeah, something like that"

Edwards walked to the back of the near empty bus, taking a seat two rows forward from the back. It was finally starting to hit him; the importance of what was coming. His big return match. Nobody really expected him to win, few even expected him to show up. Edwards, though, knew otherwise. He would be there, and he would silence each one of them, one after another. He knew that the only way to make people believe was to win. There were no other options. He would be there, and he would silence them all.

Edwards sat back, and shut his eyes. It was the first time in ages that he'd been able to do just that; rest. The first time in weeks that he'd been able to close his eyes without them being reopened by some ear-piercing scream from the next-door room, or some clattering from an overused boiler. he lay silently, listening to the gentle whirring of the bus' engine, thinking of nothing but the match that he knew would give him what he wanted. he would silence them all. He would make them all believe.

And then, the nightmares began once more...

I stand alone, in the centre of the ring, the canvas pressed against my bare feet. Smiling, I envision the victory that will make everything perfect again. I imagine the fans; watching the carnage. I imagine my opponents; motionless, bloody, finally silenced. I imagine it all, but then, it all changes. I imagine my own body, laying lifeless on the mat, all my hopes crushed in the space of one night. Then it hits me; what if I lose? I sit down on the canvas, and my hands are shaking. I can't stop the shaking, it's uncontrollable. I can't win tonight; I'm not ready. I'm deluding myself, right? I'm washed up, I'm a failure. I can't do this, not tonight.

I reach into my jacket pocket, and pull out a silver revolver. It gleams in the light from the rafters. I smile, knowing that my release is only one shot away. No more pain, no more aching, no more...

...failure.

Facing one corner, I pull the gun to my temple, my hands no longer trembling, as if for the first time, I am ready. I place my finger on the trigger, caressing it, feeling the cold metal on my fingertip. I smile once more. At least now, I won't have to face the laughter, the mockery. Nobody needs me any more.

They won't even notice I'm gone.

I stare into the barrel of the gun, and pull the trigger...

"Shit!"

Edwards woke with a start, to find himself back on the bus, which had no emptied completely.

"Last stop!" the driver shouted. Edwards grabbed his bag, and walked down to the front of bus, shaking his head. He got off the bus, and found himself staring directly at the Pittsburgh bus station.

He was here.

He couldn't lose at Hallowed Ground. There were no two ways about it. He was going to bring an end to the doubting, and mockery, the jokes.

It was time...

...to lay them all to rest.

--fin--

-----

It's time....

Time for everyone to open their eyes.

Time for everyone to start paying attention.

Time for Burton Edwards to be reborn.

It's been a long time, hasn't it? What, four, five months? I wouldn't expect anybody to know the exact time, after all, what reason would anyone have for paying any attention to a man who burned out before he even had a chance to fully ignite? Why in the name of God would anybody have even noticed my disappearance? TV Champion? US Champion? World Champion? Let's face it, none of that means anything any more. I've been cast aside, just as I feared, just so the next dime a dozen prospect can be trust into the spotlight. And me?

Who cares, right?

But there's one flaw in that reasoning. I'm not ready to burn out. I'm not ready to be cast aside just so some undeserving fool can steal my place. You all thought I would fade away like every fallen star that came before me.

You were wrong.

And as I stand here now, I do it not for glory, and I do it not for spotlight. I do it for one sole purpose, and that is to be remembered. I want immortality. I want my name to echo permanently in the minds of every man, woman and child that lays eyes upon me.

I want it, and I will have it.

My name, it has been damaged almost beyond repair. I have become a laughing stock amongst the halls of SFT. They are laughing at me, they are disrespecting me. people who, only months ago, wouldn't have dared to think my name with any kind of negative tint. The same people who I once ran down as if nothing now believe that they were greater than I was, than I am. It disgusts me, seeing these pitiful excuses for humanity treating my name like it is a joke. I won't allow them to get away with it.

I want revenge, revenge on every single one of them. Everyone who laughed at my name, everyone who thought I was gone, everyone who believed they were rid of me. And yet, I can't help but see their point. After all, there is only one person I can really blame for all this.

Myself.

I was the one that ran. I was the one that gave up. And now I'm the one that's paying for it. I was once SFT's king, and now I'm no more than a jester, a comedy act. I want to be angry at someone else, but in the end, I'm the one responsible.

Which is why I am doing what I am doing. I won't allow myself to become a distant memory. I will force the world to stand up and take notice, I will force each and every one of them to open their eyes and pay attention. They will watch. They will listen. And they will see the reality that has been staring them in the face for too long now.

Burton Edwards isn't back, because Burton Edwards never really went away.

And so we bring ourselves to Sunday. Hallowed Ground. The Nirvana Open. The night where everything changes. The night in which the world will wake up and see the truth. They may call this the Nirvana Open, but it shall serve just one purpose.

I'll leave you to guess what that is.

King. Jeff King. Nirvana. You made this match because you wanted a great battle, a battle for the ages. A battle that would be remembered for years to come. But I can see so much more than that. This match, it is nothing more to you than another chance to try and reclaim that glory you once had. What happened, King? You were once a force to be feared, a man whose very name drove so many into fits of terror. Now, you are little more than a shell of what you once were, desperately clinging to whatever shred of glory you can grasp, like a dying man clinging for those last few breaths, knowing he is doomed, but still trying to survive. You, King, know that your time is over, yet you continue to fight for something you can no longer have. Your power is gone, your strength is dwindling, and there is one man who can claim responsibility over all others.

It was I, King, who made you into this. It was I who took away everything that you worked for. You fought for the throne for so many months, and after all the struggling, you reached the prize. The World Title. It made you, King, it made you into the great force that you once were. You took on and defeated all comers, except for one. One man, who after only three months took away everything you had worked for in one fell swoop. And you haven't been the same since. Face it, King, I practically destroyed you. I took away your everything, I proved to the world that you were only mortal, just like those you had tried to convince otherwise. And now, I am back to deliver the final blow to your dying spirit.

This will be your final great battle Nirvana. I only hope I give you what you desire before I destroy you.

And then there are the others that need to be convinced. Those others that have laughed, joked and mocked my name. I will not waste my time on every one of them, but there are a certain few that require my attention.

Bane. What is there to say? You seem convinced that one match will be enough to decide whether you can defeat me. Your logic, much like your mind, is deluded. Bane, you are no different than when I last set eyes upon you. You're still the same weak, small-minded fool that thinks he is more valuable than he is. Bane, you are of no importance to this match. You will suffer in the same way that everyone else will, but that is all. You have only one real purpose, and that is making up the numbers. Believing anything to the contrary is beyond reasoned thinking. Bane, do not expect anything to come of this match for you. You will remain the faceless nobody that you never stopped being. It is what you are Bane, and what you will always be.

Nobody. Nothing.

Connor MacDaddy. A man who doesn't seem to know whether he wants to fight or watch. One day he will be an owner, the next he'll be a wrestler. Connor, you can say all you want about my disappearance, I've heard all of that before. But the truth is, you are really no different. If anything, you are worse. You only fight when something can be gained. Any other time, you stand on the sidelines and watch, knowing in your mind that you simply aren't capable any more of surviving. Maybe there was once a time when you were, but that time has long since passed. I will show you, Connor, that you don't belong in a world of violence. You will always be the man in the suit, making decisions behind the scenes, doing his best to make others believe he has some kind of authority.

You aren't a warrior Connor. Stop trying to be something you can no longer handle being.

Kamikaze. Oh how you make me laugh. It is people like yourself that drove me to enter this match. It is people like you that need to be silenced. watch me, Kamikaze. Watch me show you how wrong you were when you doubted whether I would show. Watch me, until you are no longer able to keep your eyes open. Then you'll see the truth, and then, you will believe.

That is all. To those I have not addressed, I do so because I do not see you as anything more than fodder. You entered this match seeing it as an opportunity, but soon, you will see the reality of the situation.

None of you ever had a chance.

So come one, come all, and watch as I reveal to you a reality that you have all neglected. You were never free from me, and you never will be. Now, you will find out how true this is. I shall break you, one piece at a time, until there is nothing left but the remnants of an empty shell. I am no monster, but you shall come to fear me as if I were one. The Maelstrom shall engulf you, and it will tear into you until it can do no more damage.

It's time...

Time for me to make you open your eyes.

Time for me to make you pay attention.

Time for a return to the way things were.

The way things should be.

Win/Loss Record Singles: 9-1-0Tag: 0-2-0 TitlesSFT World Champion SFT US ChampionSFT TV Champion Awards SFT Rookie of the MonthSFT Favourite Superstar (Jan 2005)SFT Wrestler of the MonthSFT Match of the Month Defeated Liko KanoaExecutionerIceThe Great MalinkoJohnny LegendDrogdenNirvanaHaVoCLouis Cypher Lost To Louis Cypher