(1/5/03) The sun shined on his black head and plump face: baby fat had not yet left the building. Despite being almost eleven years old, he was a round raspberry. His face was dry, even though his tears continued to softly patter the earth beneath him. Through clouded eyes he watched the cloudless day.

The boy cursed the world; it was so unfair: so unforgiving: so uncaring. He held the hand of his magnificent mother. The Jade Jaguar. He knew he was her miniature; his eyes were hers, his hair was hers. Would his death be like hers as well?

She lay on a crimson carpet of lush springtime sprouts. Broken, and buried by defeat. His father was gone as well, killed by the same evil menace. The boy had found their bodies after discovering an inhabited birds’ nest a few miles away; days had passed since he left that nest to search for his parents. He screamed, seeking to relieve himself of his infinite store of agony. A hand touched his shoulder.

It was not a hand that was touching Axel; they were fists attempting to ground him into a powdered coffee mix. Opening his eyes, he took a mental survey of his wounds. All he had was a swollen eye, a broken nose, a few shattered ribs, and nasty bruises scattered over various areas of his battered body. At least his pants were still on. Torz had not tried to imitate the stunt Axel pulled on Haas…yet. Apparently the idiot did not want to end the match until he pounded Axel a bit; then, since Axel had been unconscious, Torz could declare himself victorious. What a lucky break for Axel! He would wait for his moment to attack.

One more punch. Two. Three. Axel abruptly rocketed into the air, throwing Torz off guard. Surprised, Torz scrambled to regain his advantageous position, to no avail.