Brandon stands in the street facing Maurice Davis, his old friend from Harmon. Both are in full hockey gear, except that they are on roller blades instead of ice skates. A netted goal stands behind Maurice, who wears a goalie mask. Brandon stares him down, and the scene looks like a classic showdown from the old west. Brandon swings his stick around, brandishing it like a katana. It comes up behind his head, and with a brief pause, brings it crashing down on what looks like a tattered videotape. It whips into the air and past Maurice’s shoulder, barely making it as he brings up his appropriately gauntlet fist. It stretches the rope net to its limit, until it falls to the ground, shattering finally after what may have been a long day of streetplay. The reels of film tumble out, one spinning three times before collapsing, and the other rolling around Maurice’s feet, leaving depleting arcs of tape that collapse under their own weight, like the words of Draven Azar... who cares..., who’s words mean so much and matter so little.

Fuck!

Fuck it, it didn’t matter anyway.

The label on the shattered tape cover whips in the wind a little. The words “To Brandon and Stephanie, from Death” can be read there. Maurice and Brandon shed hockey gear to reveal their regular clothes underneath. They toss the stuff into the bed of The Monster and climb inside. Brandon fires it up and pulls out of the park, nearly hitting a Boston Terrier named Jodi. They turn off onto Willis Rd. and then onto HWY 29 toward Greer.

So what was that tape anyway?

Something Death sent me. He saw us in Outback somehow. Of course, he can see everything I do, but he thinks he has to send me a tape to see what he says. From what I’ve seen, everything the wrestlers in WoW do is televised, so why would he have to send me a tape? What he said was televised. Hell this will probably televised, though I don’t know where the camera is.

Maurice taps a random button on the dash and a vidcam comes up out of the dash, followed by a computer screen to the right of it, and a keyboard pops out.

Well I’ll be damned. But anyway. He said that you can’t win by only focusing on weaknesses in your opponent. Well congratu-fucking-lations Death. You get the obvious award for the year. See I didn’t tell Stephanie to only focus on weaknesses. I said that was a good strategy. For instance, if Death’s weakness is he is a small child, then his strengths will be undermined by his weaknesses. Then Stephanie can pick his nutty ass up, because he is a small child, and simply toss him out of the ring. It doesn’t matter if his strength is he has major flatulance that can knock a man senseless.

Brandon pulls onto Gap Creek Road. He rides all the way to Tiny’s house, and pulls in. He knocks on the door and waits. There is a lot of crashing and moving around, and Maurice looks stunned. Brandon shrugs it off and waits. The door opens and Tiny steps into view. He is a large fucker, nearly seven feet high.

Sup?

Can we come in?

mmmm-HM

Brandon and Maurice come in. Tiny sips on a MD 2020, and then it was on to the forties. He then rolls up a blunt. He then yaks all over himself.

You are a sick bastard, Tiny.

Eh...

Hey man I brought you a ticket dude. I want you to be there to see me win.

Suddenly the thump thump of a system is heard outside. Tiny looks over his shoulder out the window. He sees a lowrider Saab with dungeon effects and a wing, with a drag bar. The road smokes from the sparks that were sprayed all over it. Adam Burnette steps out, looking all coo. He comes inside, without knocking and asks Tiny if he wants to help him work on a car. Tiny shrugs

Eh...

Brandon and Maurice exchange looks, and Adam turns to leave.

Tiny gets up to use the bathroom. Brandon and Maurice go on talking.

I think Triple X is going to be my biggest challenge next to Thomas. The two of them are the only fucking men in that thing with their heads on their shoulders, and Stephanie might put up a good fight as well. Death, Draven, Laxx, Anarky, Dusty, and the rest, none of them seem to be in the right place upstairs. I can’t think of one single thing that puts them above the four of us. Draven has strength, Death has talk, Laxx has determination, Anarky is just coo, and Dusty, well Dusty seems to be missing in action. Sure they are all strong in certain areas, but it takes more than one talent to win against an army of enemies. I don’t even think half of them are training anymore. I know for a fact that Steph, Thomas and I are in the gym everyday working our asses off for this win. We have the confidence, the determination, and the skill to flip everyone in there on their lazy asses. Its going to come down to us, and that is when the real show begins. From then on out it becomes less of a match and more of a fight. Its going to be not who is the cockiest, who is the most experienced, or even who is the best looking. Its going to be who fights not with his or her hands, but with heart. Sweat is only mixed well with...

At this moment Tiny runs through the room and dives through a window.

tears...

So you think you are a shoo-in for the win?

If I thought that, I would be Draven, and a sure loss. Hell no I am not a shoo-in. But I guarantee that no one is going to leave that match looking at Brandon Moore in the same way.

They get up and gather their things. Brandon leaves Tiny’s ticket on the computer table as he leave.