We fade up to a parking lot, somewhere out in the mean streets of this weeks Impact. It is pitch black here, the only dim light coming from the surrounding lamp posts. We soon notice something about the area. It is a rough patch of ground, probably full of drunks and thieves and murderers. Litter is flying everywhere, pieces of broken glass lie all over the streets. Walls have been covered in graffiti, and most bins, post boxes, telephone boxes and street signs have been bent in half or destroyed in some other way. The parking lot is empty other than two burnt out cars, probably dumped there by some gang of youths after taking them for a joyride. One of the cars, a red Ford Fiesta is totally smashed in, no windows, the two back passenger doors hanging off. The other car has been completely burnt out; its blackened frame is all left standing now. Both cars have no number plates, either pulled off or dropped off. Most would have bet on the first option being the most obvious. You can just about see and hear drunks heading home, singing in the clear night sky. This is the kind of place a gang of teenagers would be likely to group up on a Saturday night, but no. Not today. Today, the parking lot is empty, totally devoid of life. A full moon is out tonight. All of a sudden, all the noise of the bar across the road and the motels next to it die down, to an eerie silence, as we realise just how alone we really are. Then, something jumps out at the camera. Something large, no, something small crawling about in the parking lot. It jumped out from the back of the smashed up Ford, now scrawling about on the floor like a mindless zombie. It is searching for something. As we see the thing, merely a shadow to our eyes in this darkness, shovelling things from the floor into its mouth we realise it is searching for food, or he, as it should be put. Then, as quickly as it dived out on us, it scurries off, over to the pub, to search for more food and drink. Then, the smashed up Ford begins to move. Slowly but surely it moves, seemingly rolling along, over to the edge of the parking lot. Then, we see the smashed up car tossed over onto its side, and we see the culprit. A large muscular man, wearing a pair of jeans and a shrt. He is built like a brick nutshouse, and looks more like an ape than a human. However, we see that he is clearly human, as we see him pull out a bottle from a pocket and take a swig of some sort of drink. We donít see what it was, but a moment later he is dead on the floor. Apparently the drink did not agree with him. His stiff hand still holds the bottle firmly, or at least the top of it. The bottom, and the liquid itself is all lying next to him in a small puddle. As we move closer to the body, we see the facial features of a middle aged man, probably in his early thirties, with dark hair and a dark goatee. The man was probably a bouncer for a club somewhere, either that or he fought in some sort of cruel game of murder and death. Then, a shrill scream breaks out in the distance, possibly the sign of a murder somewhere within the city. This is a typical night for most people around here, living in fear, believing that every day could be your last, and that you may not die peacefully in your sleep, but with a knife in your back, the most unexpected bastard holding that knife, showing how cruel life is. We hear engines somewhere, and see a car speed past at high speeds. Way higher than the speed limit in these parts. But nobody cares; because to most people around here, rules are made to be broken, and laws are rules. The other people around here are too scared to say or do anything, sitting at home every night, scared there might be a brick put through the window any minute. Most of the people that die here are innocent. The man we saw just a few moments ago, a normal man, working as a bouncer for a strip club downtown to earn money for the wife and kids. Given a bottle of some sort of deadly, diluted drug, drinking it thinking it normal alcohol. A family man, two dogs at home and a canary. Hard to believe, for sure, but true. The man scurrying around searching for food at the beginning, a beggar, a regular to these parts. Goes by the name of Spud. Nobody knows what his real name is, but thatís what they call him, and he doesnít complain. As long as he survives at the end of the day itís fine with him. And most nights he doesnít think he will, he expects to wake up in some sort of Heaven, or, if God has been taking any notice of all of his sins committed earlier in life, in some sort of Hell. However, that toughness and the fight in him that got him into trouble so many times is what makes him fight on, never giving in. He shot himself two days after this tape was filmed, making one last plead with the owner of a strip club downtown. The owner would not give him anything, not even his scraps and leftovers from last weekís dinner that still hadnít been emptied into the bins. After searching for information, the police realised the homeless man was only twenty, but was in such a state, all believed him to be in his late fifties. Maybe if they had thought him to be younger then that, they would have helped him. Perhaps. But probably not.

However, this particular night, there happens to be another visitor in town. Just someone passing through, not a regular here, as many people as they could tried not to be a regular here, it was always hard to remain alive when you did. The man cruised down the roads in an orange SS Commodore Ute, pulling up at the end of the road, passing a strip club and a bar, and passing the cinema. Pulling up in the parking lot. Driving in, the driver doesnít see the body of the bouncer lying on the floor, and parks the car on top of one of the mans arms. As he realises his mistake, he reverses away from the body, then runs straight over it and parks up in the opposite corner. Then, as the door opens, a dark figure steps out, dressed in a black robe, a pair of black pants and a pair of shades. The figure is tall muscular with an blue glint in his eye as he takes of his shades, his blonde hair wet down. To anyone that has followed wrestling, they realise whom this man is. They see him not as a man of a athletic ability, or as the thingy rookie, and the wrestler, but as the man he is here as, The Diamond Kid. As he starts to lock up his car, he quickly pulls away, sighing to himself, muttering something under his breath.

The Diamond Kid: Whatís the point? Theyíll get to it anyway.

He smashes the glass of the back passenger seat and stares in. All that is sat on the back seat is a magazine and a few coins, a bit of change, not even enough to buy a drink with, never mind any of the drugs half of the kids around here try to sell you. And, although most people have no intention of ever taking it, most people pay for the drugs and take them, too intimidated to say no, happy to leave with their lives. The Diamond Kid looks up on the hood of the car and sees the sunroof open halfway. He sighs, and puts his fist through, forcing it open all the way.

The Diamond Kid: I may as well do it myself. Least that way it wonít give the buzzed out junkies a chance to get their ďfixĒ.

The Diamond Kid kicks at the tire of the car, and starts to walk to the other end of the parking lot. He stops at the dead body, and looks down. He kneels down and puts one finger in the pool of liquid by the side of the man, looking at what is on his finger carefully, and looking at the dead body, obviously poisoned.

The Diamond Kid: F**kin fool. Should never have drunk this crap. Anything sold to ya around here by kids is risky, especially something that looks like that. Even I know this stuffís as deadly as a bullet from a gun.

He wipes his finger off with a piece of cloth from the dead manís shirt, and sits down next to him. He starts to rummage through the belongings in his pockets, pulling out a gold watch and a few coins. He looks down, a look of sorrow and sadness on his face.

The Diamond Kid: Dear God. All that for nothing? You should have never drunk it son. Not if all you had was this stuff. I wouldnít have killed anyone if I knew this was all they had. Donít judge a book by his cover, it isnít a phrase itís a principle.

The Diamond Kid throws the watch down, and pockets the change. It becomes clear that he died for a reason, the fact that "Xtreme" is becoming more than just a phrase, itís becoming an essential to survival, the underworld is becoming more than just a territory, itís spilling out into common life, guns shots fired at you if you turn the wrong corner. Is that Xtreme? F**k no! Itís wrong. Is poisoning a young tramp Xtreme, no itís just ignorant. So many questions but screw Ďem lifeís too short. The Diamond Kid watches as three cop cars fly past, sirens wailing, he smiles. He then walks over to the path, where he stops and checks his watch. Nearly midnight. No good, all the drunks will be chucked out soon. Well, if any landlord is dumb enough to try, most would just shoot the fool dead and carry on drinking into the night, for free. As The Diamond Kid looks off over the road to the bars and the strip club, he sighs, turns to his car, and prepares to get in. However, just as soon as he opens the door, he closes it again, and looks up at the sky. Then, he flips back onto the roof of the car, followed by a flip back onto the path. He takes his jacket off, slipping it through the broken sunroof. He then takes the shades off again, a glimpse of hope in his eyes. Then, he stomps his foot on the ground, pulls a stake from his pocket and holds it up to the moonlight. He yells out: From here forth, The Diamond Kid is going to live the Xtreme lifestyle and whoop Kid Platnium's ass.

The Diamond Kid: Why wallowing in pity, when itís the fight to survive. I should know itís the same in wrestling. Winner takes home the biggest purse; loserís donít get nothing, but pushed down in the game. So, Iím looking at KwF, but I ainít here to play silly happy-go-lucky comedy style comic strip hero like 1980ís wrestling. No way. From now on, The Diamond Kid becomes a kiss-ass wrestler and will win the World Title. People can cheer me, as I talk the talk, and watch as I walk the walk, or they can boo the kid, and mark out for some gimmicked guy like the pimp, or the film star.

He looks around and sighs, taking in the sight. A drunk staggers out of the doorway of a bar, into the middle of the road, then walks off, joined by two friends holding him up. As they slowly make their way around the corner, we hear a gunshot. Moments later, the two men that were by his side run back around the corner and down the road, disappearing into the distance. So much for friends.

The Diamond Kid: Itís a hard life living around here. Which is why itís better I donít. These mean streets arenít just the glitz and glimmer of home. Most folk are blinded by the bright lights, my family are, they just see it a place to make money in a small sweatbox promotion, performing in front of drunks. My family has talent and they blew their chances, but Iím not gonna drop the ball, Iím gonna make it big and the VCW is the place to do it, if I can win teh World Title, I would be the real "Untouchable". I have to make myself, The Diamond Kid, bigger than what I am now.

The Diamond Kid walks over to the dead man lying down in the car park. He kneels at his side, and makes a cross sign on his chest. He looks up, and holds his hands in prayer, muttering something to himself, then rises, and yanks a cross from around his neck. He throws it down onto the man, and walks away.

The Diamond Kid: Well, if God was listening, and if God really wants to grant me one last wish, heíll grant me that one last wish I just asked for. To be a star, I am not a damn paper champion, Iím not buying the American dream bullnuts because itís fabricated by powers that be, to give the no hopers a dream that they will NEVER achieve. I have talent, I have what it takes, I donít think I know that I can make an impact. My dad canít help me, my mum canít help me, and the only guy who can is the guy above. A desperate manís plea maybe, or is the wool of my own confidents covering my eyes. I donít know, I just donít know. Itís time I seek for answers.

As The Diamond Kid speaks with a hint of hope, blended with the gut feeling of failure. Then, as he walks over to the car, with a scowl he speaks again, opening the car door ready to get in and drive away into the distance.

The Diamond Kid: Thereís one thing I learnt so far in my short life, and coming here to my roots just about proves it. Life sure is a bitch. I came here for one reason, and that mission is still to be accomplished. I think itís time I got Xtreme, and got ready to place people into Awesomeness.

The Diamond Kid points over to the dead man, and gets in the drivers seat of the car. The engines rev up, and the car flies off down the street and around the corner. We just catch the number plate - TDK - as it speeds off. Then, as we see a few drunks walking out of the pub, and a rather nice looking blonde coming out of the strip club we click the OFF button on the camera, as we fade to black.

A short time after we all just bore witness to the moving footage shown curtosy of The Diamond Kid, the jampacked arena of KwF fans are all screaming thier heads off after perhaps one of the most brutal hardcore matches they have ever seen. There is not a single person in the entire arena who is still seated. They are all on thier feet, applauding the amazing efforts displayed by the two athletes thay have just seen. Both men lie in a pool of thier own blood, with all sorts of weapons still lying around the ring and the area around. They range from a 10ft high steel ladder, to the old faithful trashcan lid.

The tron is proudly displaying the winner's video. It of him performing his finisher, and also some really ccontains numerous clips razy stunts. Without even the slightest warning, A deafening explosion rattles the very foundations of the stadium, causing over 90% of the people in attendance to scream with enexpectancy. In cognito with the almighty noise, the arena falls into absolute darkness. The only thing that can be seen is the tron, which now instead of playing the winner's clip, is flickering like a TV with no antannae. The flickering black and white shines an eerie glow upon the first five or so rows in front of it. Even though you cannot see anything, you can tell that every single person, from the 200 pounder in the nose bleed section to the Employee that carries the camera cables, is staring directly at the screen.

After what seems like an eternity, the tron finally begins to change. Slowly, almost too slow to notice, some shapes begin to take place. The screen is still really snowy, but a few definate shapes are beginning to emerge. The colour now starts to seep into the shot, and really gives a third dimension to it all. Now, clear as day, you can see the inside of a car. Judging by the pure leather upholstry, the car is obviously looked after. The camera filming is in the back seat, looking through between the two front seats. On the right, a broad shoulder sits definativly above the bucket seats. Long black dreads adorn his back, moving every now and then with the breeze from the open window. Just in the lower right of camera is a arm, stretching out to grip the sports steering wheel. An expensive gold watch hangs a little loosly on the wrist, matching the gold ring on the index finger. Some of the fans gasp as they realise it's....they don't know who this man is actually.

Out of the front windscreen, where the camera is focused, the red tail lights of the car in front dominate the shot. The occasional street light flashes past, but nothing much else can be seen on the streets. Rather quickly, on the left the all too familliar car park flashes past for a mere instant, but enough to clearly recognise where we are. The car speeds up a little, overtaking the car in front and by far exceeding the speed limit. The lights on the sides of the road begin to blur together as the engine roars loudly. Up ahead, the unmistakable glow of traffic lights slows the car down. The car coasts in and slows down, preparing to stop for the red. As it gates closer, we can see another car parked at the same lights. It looks somewhat familliar, and as the car rolls closer still, we find out why. The number plates read TDK. It's The Diamond Kid.

The car pulls up next to it, and the driver turns his head slightly, so he is looking into Triple A' car. The camera re-postiions itself, now being able to see in the car aswell. The Diamond Kid is staring right back at the unknown man. As if they had some kind of telepathic connection, they both nod once, then turn back to the road. Unknown man is the first to start. The front end of the car momentarily warps sideways as the engine lets out an almighty roar. Not one to back down from a challenge, The Diamond Kid does the same, his sounding roughly the phatter. The cameraman senses whats about to happen, and he drops back into the rear seat, buckling himself into the middle. Unknown man moves his left arm to the chrome skull that sits atop the gear stick and taps his fingers. Hand still on the stick, he reaches a finger out and presses play on the CD player in the car. The gentle beginning tunes of System of a Down's Toxicity begin to thunder out of the speakers, almost drowning out the noise from the engine.

The lights facing the cross-street turn red, and unknown man makes a last-second adjustment in his seat. It all happens in a matter of seconds. The lights turn green, and both cars leap foward, the back tires spinning a bit, leavng behind them a whisp of smoke, and the black marks accompanied with the smell of burning rubber. The trees lining the narrow but straight stretch of road whiz past in a blur of speed as the two cars stay neck and neck. They gain tremendous speed as they slowly run out of straight road, nearing a gentle left corner. The Diamond Kid, being on the inside slowly gains a few metres while unknown man gets stuck with the outside lane. In the distance, the headlights of an oncoming car dim, flicking off highbeams, as it approaches.

The road now leans to the right and unknown man makes up roughly the same amount that he lost, possibly some more. Strangely, the lights of the oncoming car are now not visable. It is as if there wasn't any car in the first place. The right corner continues around and unknown man is now well in front. Suddenly, in an instant, the jagged outline of wood can be seen in the bright headlights. There is a tree lying over half of the road. Going too fast to do anything, unknown man merley turns his head to the side, preparing himself as best he can for the impact. The car hits head on. In a horrific display of shattering glass and twisting metal, the tree trunk snags the right wheel, spinning and at the same time, flipping the car over and to the left. A wrecked car just gets caught in shot on the other side of the log, the driver's head poking through the cracked glass. The camera spins around and around as the car tumbles like a leaf caught in a drain, helpless but to recieve its fate. The camera shakes violently as the car slams side-on into a tree on the other side of the road.

The Diamond Kid does his best to stop his car as fast as he can, but it is all over in a matter of seconds. The car drops to the ground on its side, the stereo some how still playing. The camera is on its side, miraculosly still filming out of the window. It catches The Diamodn Kid in the distance, for some reason, casually walking towards the wreck. Coming in from the left (or top) of the camera a man crawls, dragging himself. Through all the litres of blood over him, you can only just make out that it's that unknown man.

He manages to crawl a meter or so before collapsing in a bloodied heap on the ground, whats left face towards the camera. There is a large piece of glass sitting out of the right side of his head, running through his eye. The Diamond Kid slowly makes his way over to the limp body and carelessly picks him up by the back of the shirt.

The Diamond Kid: Stop f**king around Hughesy, we got training to do.

The Diamond Kid then drops the man known as Hughesy back down to the ground. Hughesy struggles to get up, but manages to do so, his arms wobbling under the strain. Finally getting to his feet, Hughesy starts to walk. At first a little gingerly, then better and better, heading towards The Diamond Kid's car in the distance. As they move away, Hughesy seems to walk as is there had been no crash. The camera begins to flicker a little, then splices back to static.