She blinks painfully. How long had it been? This was night two? Or was it three? Her body screamed with exhaustion, and yet her mind refused to allow her the luxury of falling into sweet oblivion. Why?

Because of the two on either side of her. Poised like sentries, barring her way into dreamland they lay still, lest any motion from them cause the bone weary, and incredibly shrewish Lycana to turn their way and snap her teeth, laying into them with all her frustration.

Her head turns to her left, her eyes colliding with the bold blue ones of Marf, a midnight hue in the darkness. His bulk as angled towards her, his muscular frame lending warmth and comfort. A sense of familiarity. She felt an overwhelming urge to curl towards him, to cuddle up close to his body and let herself drop into slumber. Unfortunately, there was...

A slight movement from her right.

Her face turns, taking in the elegant blond, propped up on his elbow staring down at her with a pompous smirk on his face. His eyebrow arcs upwards, noticing her attention is now on him. He purses his lips in a facsimile of a kiss. A low growl come from her other side and the sage green eyes leave her now, teasing and torturing the man on the other side of her.

Lycana sighs heavily.

How in the hell was she supposed to fall asleep like this?

“This isn't going to work.” she grumbles the words, giving voice to her frustrated thoughts. “You’re resisting my dear.” the incubus tells her. “Relax and close your eyes, you’re safe.” Marf gently moves a lock of hair off her forehead, while glowering at the incubus. “I’m more concerned about the two of you trying to kill each other.” she growls. “No, you're terrified of actually finding out this is a memory and what that means. Youre scared to actually dig deep and look into the finer details because that would mean you can't pass it off as just a dream anymore.” Finneas tilts his head, his long platinum tresses cascading down onto the pillows. “He has a point.” the reluctant voice of Marf.

Fucking demons.

She closes her eyes in exasperation.

And finds herself on the path once more. She tries to stop, but her feet feel compelled to move forward. One step at a time, she moves along, repeating the same motions that have now become so familiar to her. Shadows dance on the path before her, the sun beaming through the trees dappling everything with bright speckles. The hem of her dress brushes the ground lightly, erasing the prints and any trace of her trail with each gentle swish of fabric. A light thudding turns her head, spying her annoying sister tromping over as many flowers as she can. But she doesn’t have a sister...

“Look closer.”

She jumps as the voice pipes up next to her. Finneas strolls by her side. He motions towards her sister. “If you don’t have a sister, who is she?” Her eyes widen and a grin stretches over his face. “Oh yes, in here... I can read your mind. All part of the memory my dear.” She makes a mental note not to think of things that could be used against her, causing one corner of his mouth to twitch in response. She turns her gaze to the woman cavorting amongst the wildflowers.

Shaggy brown hair. Clothed in gray. Boots placed just so, to do the most damage on the fragile blooms. High pitched tittering squeal for a laugh, making her want to cringe in response. She looks back to the incubus and shrugs. “You aren't looking!” She looks back at the obnoxious girl, opening her eyes wide, mocking the demon. “Do you want this or not?” he sighs. “I’m looking at her Finneas!!! What more do you want?” she snarls. “You’re looking but you aren't seeing.” he tries to sound wise. “Yeah, no shit. It all looks the same to me.”

She stares anyway. Watching as the girl lifts her head, hair falling playfully over one eye as their gazes meet and the recognition slams into her with the force of a train. “Ash?!” she whispers the words, and the other one frowns. “Thats not my name.” she scolds Lycana, then goes right back to what she had been doing, scampering along the path as Lycana moves to follow, Finneas by her side. “Ash Quinn? She can't see you?” she asks quietly. “You tell me. This is your memory. And no, they cannot see or hear me.” he responds.

They keep going, rounding that ever so familiar curve and coming upon the two other figures. She pauses at the edge as her sister... no... Ash gallops along ahead, looking to annoy the portly little creature coated in shaggy green fur. His eye stare out balefully, glaring into Lycana’s soul as she creeps out into the open. The utter hatred in them. The loathing. So familiar. He looks to Ash instead, and they seem to have a battle of wills. She tilts her head. Where had she seen that very expression before? She flashes back, to Savage. Their eyes locking on the ramp before he shoved his hand down her throat....

“Alias?”

She gasps the name, as the little fellow hides behind... Lycana’s eyes raise and lock with the brilliant blue ones of the blond princess. “This isn't right.” “What isn't right?” from Finneas. “What isn't right?” from the Princess. “Her eyes, they're wrong. They aren't blue.” she speaks out loud, a confused look crossing the beautiful features of the platinum tressed woman before her. “I think you are a little confused.” her musical voice floats forth.

“We’re all trapped in hell and the only way out is you, Granger. They keep us in a coma so they can steal our images… Our thoughts… Our memories... “

The words spill forth, unbidden, like she cannot control them. Finneas notices her expression. “It's a memory Lycana. It must go as it was, even if you add to it.” he tells her. “This is so confusing.” Lycana groans. “You're telling me. I think you might have lost your mind.” Betsy-But-Not-Betsy informs her. “Why do you think her eyes are blue?” the incubus says, peering over her shoulder. “How the hell should I know what that means?” she retorts. “Who are you talking to?” wrong-color-eye-Princess-Betsy looks weirded out.

“Nothing. Nobody. I....” she shakes her head. “Look Betsy...” “I think you have the wrong person.” the other is backing away now. “No, you have to trust me...” Zzzap. And the next thing she knows, the princess if on the ground and the sun is shining off the brilliant hair of yet another person. Lycana stares, not recognizing her... but something nags at the back of her mind, saying that they have met once before. She is talking at Lycana... but she feels herself being drawn away.

“NO! No, not yet! I’m not done! FINNEAS!” she hurtles backwards into the void, pulling away from the coppery haired woman, and the-not-quite-Betsy on the ground. She hovers in the abyss, surrounded by nothing. Feeling weightless, just floating along in a sea of inky nothingness. “Only you can control that, you need to learn.” the demons disembodied voice floats through the void to reach her. “Well fucking thanks, a whole bunch for your help. I thought that’s what you were supposed to be here for?!” she twists and turns, seeking something, anything as she drifts through the total darkness. “I can only lead so much, most of this is on you.” the voice comes. “So, you're about useless! What the hell... you stupid piece of...”

“Oi, the creepy cunt is awake!”

She is crammed into a pod with the incubus now, staring out through a thick, clear panel at a shocked Noah Jackson as he goes tumbling backwards. “Where am I?” she whispers, looking around the small space. “I don’t know my dear, but could you please remove your elbow from my spleen?” She snorts in response. “Maybe if you backed up just a tad?” He sounds affronted when he responds. “My hair would get staticky from the walls.” She was about to respond about how he wasn’t even actually THERE, when someone stepping in front of her draws her attention.

Emerald eyes collide with blue.

Betsy Granger.

The REAL Betsy.

They stare at one another for long moments. “Betsy? Why am I here?” No answer. Lycana looks beyond her, seeing the members of Legacy. “Where is here?!” James Raven. Atara. Shawn Warstein. None of this made any sense to her. “Let me out Betsy! You can't keep me in here! What is going on?!” No response. Frustrated, Lycana brings her hands up, beating fiercely on the barrier between them. “You won't get anywhere with that.” the ever so wise voice. “Shut the fuck up Finneas!”

A hissing sound. A sweet smell. A dizzy feeling. “NO! No no no no no no....” her voice fades with each consecutive ‘no’. She looks one last time at Betsy, noting the look on her face before she slips into the black hole once more. She glides through the expanse of coal colored air. Confused as ever.

“What was that?” she ponders. “I’m only here to walk you through and make you look closer.” here comes Finneas voice once more. “And a bang-up job you're doing. I'm just as confused as ever. More questions, and less answers.” she sarcastically comments. “Did you see more things that you had not before?” Silence. “Wellllllll?” “Yes.” she reluctantly admits. He had a point; she did see a lot more than she had in the previous dreams.

Her sister turned out to be Ash Quinn. Alias. Betsy. The Legacy. The one she knew she had met before, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. XWF members, but in disguise for lack of a better term. What did it all mean? How was it a memory and not a dream? How could Alias be a little furry monster? Unless... something had been dropped over their eyes to see each other a certain way. Could that be it? She had no idea. Her head whirled.

As she found herself sitting up, in a field not far from her own home. “But how...?” she rubs her hands over her face. “They left you here.” out of nowhere, Finneas was there again. “They left you here while you were asleep, either hoping someone would find you or that you would wake up and find your own way home. Do you remember this at all?” he asks. She shakes her head. “No, I only come out here if I think I might have....” she stops. “............ a vision.” And there it was. She remembered a time she had woken up, groggy... assuming she had had a vision, but unable to recall what it was. Finding that strange. It was a memory.

“How did they know where you lived?” Finneas asks. Lycana can't help but laugh. “Out of everything, I feel like that’s the least of my concerns.... and you're supposed to be helping to answer things, not add more on top of what I already have!” She slowly climbs to her feet, to begin the trek home. “Lycana! Wake up.” she turns around, frowning at the demon. “What?”

“Wake up.”

“But....”

“Lycana, wake up!”

It wasn’t Finneas’ voice anymore.

“WAKE UP!”

She fights the pull, wanting to stay where she was, until the world begins to shake around her. She feels her body being tugged, lifted right off the ground. She yelps as her feet leave the earth, and she scrambles uselessly in the air, watching the landscape grow smaller and smaller as she rockets off into the sky. She gathers speed, the velocity pulling at her until...

Her eyes fly open in the motel bed. She sits up quickly, groaning and falling back as the blood rushes to her head, giving her vertigo. She falls back with a soft moan, her hands coming up to her head as the spinning slows, eventually coming to a stop. An iron arm goes around her shoulder, pulling her into the warm steel of his muscular body. “Are you okay?” his voice is soft, whispered into her ear. She cautiously opens her eyes again, the gritty feeling still present, but the swirling nausea over and gone.

“Yeah.” the word emerges a hoarse croak. She swallows and tries again, rubbing her eyes to try and get the sandy feeling out but to no avail. “Yeah, I’m alright. How long was I asleep?” she blinks blearily at him. “Only about an hour.” Marf tells her. “Thats it?” No wonder she still felt like she had been hit by a bus, that then backed over her and used her as a speed bump for a second time.

“Where did Finneas go?” she asks, noticing that the space to her right was suspiciously, but blessedly empty for the first time in a few nights. The demon had been by her side from their last night at her home, all the way until they arrived at the hotel and every damn moment in between. “I encouraged him to leave us be for the rest of the night.” Lycana looks deep into his lapis colored eyed. “’Encouraged’ huh?”

“I may or may not have told him a trip back to North Carolina would be beneficial to maintaining the structure of those perfect fucking cheekbones and the arrangement of the rest of his stupid face.” Marf doesn’t even have the grace to look ashamed.

A small snort escapes her. Followed by a series as she tries to muffle her laughter. Marf looks at her with some amusement. “You should probably go back to sleep, and actually get some rest. It's not fun staying up for days, and you have a match to prepare for on Saturday.” She gets her giggling under control, ending on a soft sigh. “I was supposed to talk to Finneas about what I saw, and how the hell that helped me.” She rolls to face him, tucking her hands under her cheek. “What DID you end up seeing that was different than all the other times?”

She tells him about it all, including being dumped by her own house while still knocked out, Marf’s jaw growing tenser by the moment. “So really, I have a lot more questions now than I did before. I don’t know how it helped me that much.” she murmurs, her eyes starting to feel heavy once more. “Now you know that it actually happened, and who was there. You might have questions Lycana, but you know who you would have to go to in order to get the answers.” She frowns. “Yeah, and I’m sure Betsy would love to sit around and braid each other's hair and exchange stories. Her on why the hell I was locked in a capsule thing with Legacy around... and then I can tell her why I saved her ass from Atara. She asked that, in her last promo.”

“I was wondering that myself. She tied us up and tried to light us on fire in the parking garage in case you didn’t remember that part. And then you saved her from being beat up.” Marf settles down so his head is also on a pillow, looking over at Lycana. “Sometimes, I question it myself. There is just something, something else there, so many little pieces. Something that tells me there is more than meets the eye when it comes to her. More than her wanting to destroy us. I can't explain it.” Marf makes a low grumbling noise. “I can't either, but I trust your judgement on it.”

“Mmmm... we also need to talk about your promo and the Left Hand.” she mumbles, snuggling deeper into the bed. “I thought we did already? You agreed.” he points out. “Yeah, but there's more to it than that. At least for me. You know I like...” she breaks off on a yawn. “... to talk out all the details and everything.” He makes a small noise of agreement. “Do I ever. But for right now, you should really get some sleep.”

“But...” she starts. “No buts, we can talk tomorrow. Its late. Go back to sleep.” He closes his eyes, done with the conversation. Her mind wanders over the topics they needed to address. The Left Hand. Baphomet. What to do about Betsy. And Andre Dixon and his comments. But for now... he was right. She DID need sleep. Her eyes slowly drift shut.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Some could argue that a battle royal takes no skill, no strength, no real in ring talent to win... and I can agree to a point. However, there is so much more to it than throwing your opponents over the top rope. In some cases, it takes stamina, outlasting others who come in fresh while you, yourself might be hovering on the brink of exhaustion. Pushing yourself beyond your normal limits, and still having more coming at you. It can take brainpower, deciding who to go after, who to send packing next without sacrificing yourself at the same time, hoping they don’t have an ally who wants to see you fail.

And sometimes, it takes a bit of luck.

A bit of luck to be in the right place at the right time and send someone else flying... or luck being on your side as you manage to stay one step ahead of the sheer numbers bounding about around you.

Each moment you are in a battle royal is a gamble, a bid to stay alive and make to the very end.

This will be my first time entering such a match, with the exception of the Turmoil, and I plan on enjoying it to the fullest. It doesn’t matter when I get in there... I just hope there are plenty left to play with by the time it's my turn. That’s truly all I really care about in the grand scheme of things.

Everybody has come forward and had plenty to say, plenty of little tidbits to wade through, plenty of things to use to pick the brains of each and every one of you.

Well... almost everyone.

Mickey Kinkade! Where the hell are you? I mean... I guess in the bigger picture, it really doesn’t matter. You had to know that despite all your bluster you had no business being here. I mean, you have a win over Ash Quinn. Yeehaw. So do I. So does Marf. So do a lot of people. It's not something we all run around and yell about. Why, you ask? Because it's not really a big deal. It's just kind of... a checkmark in the win column that doesn’t really need to be acknowledged, it's just kinda... there. You’ve shown more spunk and fire in segments on Warfare, running your mouth about how you want Chris Page again. Now, here we are when it really matters and your dick has shriveled to an acorn, and you are nowhere to be found. This is your time to shine! Your time to try and get into the heads of the ones you are facing for that shot you want so bad! And you’re fucking it up... much like you have most everything else you’ve done since you got here, but I suppose that shouldn’t shock me in the least.

Jenny Myst... where are YOU?! The amount you like to hear yourself talk; I am shocked you haven't been glued to the camera’s asking them to follow you at every moment. Have you sunk so low that you're having a hard time finding someone to film your promos? Do you just not have anything to say? I find that really hard to believe... so what is it? Are you playing the strong, silent role in hopes that gets into people's heads more than jaunty quips do? Are you hoping we all just brush you off so you can swoop in at the last minute? I don’t know Jenny, I was rather looking forward to trading words with you. It's been quite some time. What a disappointment.

Barney... the strong, silent type. The one who is just here for a paycheck and maybe to be another body. To help Fury maybe. To join just as another line of defense against someone other than a BoB member winning? Who the hell knows. The silence coming from a bunch of people is pretty damn telling. They all know they have no business coming down to this ring. So maybe if they stay really quiet, the rest of us won't be quite so hard on them. No such luck my dears! I will simply gun for you first! If you don’t want this, get the hell out of my way!

Reggie.... what exactly have you done in recent times, where you're talking about me not being able to hold down in this thing? Oh, that’s right. Not a fucking thing. You ended up in a dumpster. Perfect location if you ask me.

Then we have Sil. Sil who thinks he has the luxury of just waving me off because I’m a woman, much like he is doing with most of the others in this competition. Let me tell you something my dear, you should probably have a nice long list of excuses handy for why a female whipped your musclebound ass all over the ring and then tossed you over the top rope, because let's be honest... the odds of that happening, are reeeeaaaallll high with all of us in there. Hell might freeze over and we may all work together just to get your dumb ass out first. With any luck, you’d land on that big hard head of yours, knock something resembling a shred of intelligence loose. Or break your neck so we would never have to deal with you again. Either one is fine by me.

When the Demos met Lycana fairly in open combat... When was this? Are you speaking of the Savage before the six-man tag? Let's explore that and roll some footage... shall we?

‘We cut to a shot of Lycana walking around backstage. A sadistic grin is stretched across her flawless face. Her colored hair bounces on her shoulders as she walks towards the camera. Then, out of nowhere, she’s hit from behind with a 2x4 wrapped in barbed wire! She falls to the ground, only to be hit once more with the weapon! The golden plate of the television championship wrapped around the assailant’s waist reflects light into the camera.’

Well look at that. The Demos thinks it's fair to hit someone from behind by a two-by-four. Is that what you call that? I don’t care if its Demos, Dimes, Nickles, or any other personality you have. I call that the reeking stench of your cowardice stinking up the air once more. How come you couldn’t come at me face to face if you're so big and bad? How come you couldn’t even come my way without a weapon? Pretty sad when your balls pack a suitcase and take off every time the thought of facing me one on one with nothing to put in between us crosses your mind.

I know you aren't supposed to be here for this match, but we all know damn well you will try to find some way to insert your wide load in, in some fashion. You do live for battle royals, and being able to name all the people you have managed to toss over the top rope. I think we would all be fools to think you would just bow out because Dolly Waters said so.

The big hero of truth and justice is nothing but a skulking, lying, cheating miscreant, who wears a crown of hypocrisy. Who does all the things, he’s says trying to rid the XWF of. Who tries to foist all his own sins off under a laundry list of reasons and thinly veiled excuses. The leader of this do gooders, gleams bright yellow with his cowardice under the brilliant spotlight now focused directly on him. The recreant hides under all his personalities, but none of them are fit to be called leader, never mind for such a fool's mission. The impostor inserting himself into things so beyond his ken its humorous... especially as he does the same things he deems reprehensible.

Miss Fury... I have done quite a lot of thinking over the course of the past couple of weeks. In the end, I do believe we have a score to settle. Regardless of your reasoning, you turned your back not just on the Baphomet but on each one of us as individuals. Therefore, you betrayed me. You might not see it that way, but I do. The Left Hand might be gone from the XWF, but I have no intentions of leaving. I am here to do exactly what it was I said I was going to do from the moment I walked through the doors, and that is to hurt people. Now, after this? I am even more inclined to leave my mark on anyone who might cross my path, and that paints a pretty target right on that lovely catsuit you sport.

You say I have failed to put in work... I say you have failed to see what is right before your eyes. Show after show, I come out to the ring and make my presence known. Loss after loss, I brushed myself off and came back even harder the following time. The tides slowly began to turn. Ash Quinn was the first to fall. Followed by Betsy Granger. Then three different tag teams went down due to the combined efforts of myself and Marf, to earn the spot facing your boys TNGBs.

From where I was, to where I am today. I have worked my ass off to be where I am, I will continue to do so and I have no need for anybody's approval but my own. You say you would welcome me with open arms into BOB, but how would the rest of your little crew feel? If they hated the Left Hand so much, verbally expressing their disdain not only for the group, but myself and the rest... why would they accept me among your ranks? How would trust be built upon after words were thrown, and alliances shattered? You say I can't think and do for myself, and yet you would pull me to be a soldier in your army, one who would do as others willed. To ‘give up’ the power over my own destiny once more.

You are a fool to think we were never in charge of our own.

Let me be clear... Marf and I were the Left Hand. We walked into it, each with our own goals. We joined, to pursue a collective one. He and I, our bond was forged in blood and sweat. The group may have fallen, but our bond remains cemented... but our ideals remain the same... but our determination to show that we are a fucking force to be reckoned with burns like an all-consuming flame. Our minds, have been and will always be our own. The Dissentients never bowed to anyone, nor will we ever.

It is you, if anyone who has been drinking the Kool Aid, Miss Fury. You and all the rest who saw the members as useless, as nothing but followers who did what we were told. Blindly pointing fingers just like their peers, as they accused us of doing the same. Seeing us as nothing but pawns when in reality, we were the spine... the very backbone of the group. The limbs may have been severed, but the core remains and from that will grow something more, something bigger... The Dissentients have only begun their reign over the XWF. What has changed with us Miss Fury, may I ask?

We fall under no faction name now.

That is all.

We still come in and do what we please. Same goals. Same people. Same fucking team. Same fucking ideals. Same fucking drive for bloodshed. So yeah Fury, when we step into that ring, I plan on getting a taste of you. It will not nearly be enough but that day... it will have to do. It will have to be enough until we get our moment. No harping, no sneak attacks. It ends in the ring, until we meet once more but let me be clear... I don’t think we are through with one another. Not by a long shot.

Betsy, Betsy, my beautiful friend! Enemy? Frenemy? Well... whatever you are... Are we still harping about the how's and the whys of my win over you? My dear it's really bad form to bitch and moan. You should eat your loss like a good little girl and just move the fuck on. Especially given all the little events in there where you yourself didn’t play by the rules. Shall I name them off for you? Have you forgotten them? Or are you trying to pull a Reggie and gloss over them, only because they didn’t turn out in your favor? I’m going to guess it's that option. Bad show, making excuses all over the place yet again.

Excuses for everything. Lycana cheated. I was too tired. I was injured. I wasn’t at my best. That’s the ONLY reason miss Betsy Boo could ever lose after all!

That ego Betsy, I see it is still alive and well. It is that ego, that prompts you to justify and defend any losses you take. You were already laying them all out before you even stepped foot in the ring with Corey Smith! Even as you laved his puckered asshole with your lips, crooning all your simpering adoration, you were already putting into play the reasons of why you would be losing to him. Saying that he would only get a weakened, broken version of you. That your loss to Corey was all but inevitable due to the state of your health!

Oh, woe is Betsy! She didn’t think Lycana was a threat so she didn’t have the foresight to throw some reasons out beforehand on why she would possibly lose! So now... now Miss Betsy is playing catch up with all the different ways it could have gone.

Except it didn’t. You lost. To me. Own that shit Bets, damn.

And your ego was the reason. It wasn’t any of the excuses you came up with. It was that you slept on me. You didn’t think poor little Lycana with all those losses and a sole win over Ash Quinn that nobody even really counts, would be able to knock you down for the three count. And it cost you.

Fuck though, I really wish you had been able to get one over on Corey. I was actually rooting for you believe it or not. I was hoping to see him humbled, and I thought you might just be the one to do it. Alas, you failed at that as well. Add in a little bit of best friend backstabbing and you are just having one hell of a time of it lately, aren't you?

Speaking of Atara, I suppose I should give your question some thought and come up with an answer for you huh? Why. Why did Lycana come to the rescue when Atara was after Betsy Granger? Why did I not just roll out of the ring and leave you to handle yourself with the woman who was once your friend? What does Lycana have to gain from lending aid to the very woman who tied her up and lit a fire around her? Why?

The short answer? I truly don’t know.

The longer one... I suppose it harks back to the frenemies thing we have going on. I don’t particularly LIKE you Betsy, and I'm sure that feeling is quite mutual. But Atara? I like her quite a bit less, and if there was any chance to take it to her, I would seize onto it with both hands. Atara and I, we had a little bit of a back and forth many months ago, and in my eyes... we never finished it. Oh sure, I busted her neck up pretty good and put her out for a bit... but she's back. And for me, that means she swung open that door once more and I'm ready to bust right on through. So, part of it, would have to be the opportunity presented itself and I took it gleefully.

Another? Quite frankly... she interrupted us. She had no business doing so. You and I, let's face it... we were far from done with one another. That bell might have rung, but we were not finished. We still are not. I think we both enjoy being in that ring, teasing and torturing one another... making each other hurt. Wanting to be the first to draw blood. Mental and physical skills put to the test time and time again. We are well matched Betsy, and both of us enjoy a challenge. Bluntly, being in the ring with one another is a pleasure. I like what I bring out in you Betsy Boodles... I love watching that shadow come down over your eyes, watching those cogs start turning, seeing you lick your lips and knowing you are just as eager and willing as I am. It is like watching a solar eclipse where the brilliant brightness is covered by darkness for a brief time.

And that selfish bitch barged right in and made a nuisance of herself.

I gain nothing from such endeavors, except the satisfaction of getting my hands on someone I dislike greatly, more than most others. It has nothing to do with my feelings towards you. I am not about to cozy on up and braid your hair and tell you all about my hopes and dreams, to talk over my feelings and who I'm crushing on while we giggle inanely and make popcorn. However... if it came down to you or her in a situation like that. I would go after her first every single damn time.

Consider that my ‘friendly’ deed, because when we get into ring on Saturday, she won't be there. And you will step right back up into your place as my target. It's nothing personal this time darling, it's just that you stand between me and something I would enjoy partaking in!

As do you, Mr. Robert Main.

Now, I can't say I blame you for wanting to extract your pound of flesh. Given your position, I would be foaming at the mouth, gunning for every single person who had a hand in what happened to me. However, I'd be starting with the man who wielded the bat. Yeah sure, Chris Page was the brains of it, lord knows Thunder Knuckles could never come up with anything nearly as intricate, no matter how much X-Bux you bribed him with... but don’t you want to taste the blood of the man who put you in that hospital? The one who brought that bat down across your skull? Why aren't you trying to get at TK first? Fuck, I would chew TK up and show Page just what was in store for him when I finally deigned to get around to him. I would take each member of BoB down, one at a time... making each one bleed a little bit more. Take my time and getting to the big man. Make him sweat a little bit more with each colleague that fell to me.

But I guess that’s the difference between me and you. I don’t satisfy myself with just one, especially not the big one right away. I like to draw out my retribution. Savor it. If you fuck with me the whole world is going to burn to the ground, and that includes anyone around you foolish enough to have a hand in it.

Don’t you want to see Page shaken? Don’t you want him looking you in that ring, knowing you had destroyed each member of his crew? The little flicker of doubt, wondering if he would be next?

Wouldn’t that be the tastiest revenge of all?

How could you not spend all those months in the hospital, thinking of better, more creative ways to gain vengeance? Things that would shake Page up before you even laid a single finger on him? The faked death and all, that was well and good but then when your crescendo didn’t quite hit the peaks you had hoped it to with Archyle, you just.... kinda let it flatline. Everyone holding their collective breath released it in one hell of a disappointed whoosh right about then. Didn’t have a plan B? All that damn time and the next thing you were able to come up with was... try to get your hands on Chris Page right away and take the Universal Title? For all your claims to the contrary it seems that might be your main goal after all. How... expected.

Innovation, thy name is not Robert Main.

You asked if any of us could say we are willing to fight the entire roster.... and you're looking at one who is Mr. Main. That is why I’m here, this is why I do what I do. Love a challenge and live for the fight. Was there any question of that? Many of us saw your name signed up... and yet on we came. Why do you think that is? Do you also have an inflated sense of self ego that told you that everyone was out to get you? Ha, I think anybody listening to you speak would have to say yes. Maybe for some that’s true, wanting to make a name for themselves by being the one to put The Omega out of contention for the Universal Championship. Wanting bragging rights for even just managing to get anything by you.

Maybe some of the members of BoB are there, trying to put up a roadblock between you and Page. You should welcome that! A little taste before you get to the main course, right? They may not have any inclinations towards the title, they only have one job to do, and that’s put you out so you don’t have a chance to get to it. They are playing the numbers game, and they play it well Robert. Would they be willing to face down the entire roster? Likely yes. This time it happens to be you.

As for myself... I saw your name, and I still wielded my pen with flourish. Simply because I love a good brawl Mr. Main. And I know you will provide one hell of a battle for me to take on. I would gladly face down the entire roster for the sheer PLEASURE of it all. Not the gains. Not the belts. Not the fame. Simply because I just fucking want to. I like to test my limits, regardless of how in over my head anybody thinks I am. None of that matters to me. A wolf does not concern themself with the opinions of sheep. None of the jabs have ever stopped me from bringing my all in the ring. None of the doubters have ever made me second guess my desire to go out there and fight.

We both want Page, but for different reasons. You want revenge. I want to test myself, and the greatest measure is going against the best is it not? And right now, he is the best because he holds that belt. The belt, is not something in particular I need or want... but the opportunity? That is something I could not back down from Mr. Main. Don’t think I'm looking on by you, I'm certainly not. What I'm doing, is looking at you as yet another challenge. But are you looking at me as one?

I doubt it. And that’s just fine. Because you said if we wanted to do something about it, we would know where to find you. And that’s just it Mr. Main. I won't be hard to find either. I’ll be the one stepping right up to meet you toe to toe. Right in the center of that damn ring. You will find there is no quit in me. You call yourself an alpha, and I welcome you to prove it.

Because I am coming to this Mayday celebration, and I have a hell of a lot to prove to everybody.”