Ammunition 13.2 VOTING and PROMO THREAD

Michaels: No.

Abraham: You're being ridiculous.

Michaels: No.

Abraham: You can't just say no.

Michaels: I just did. No.

Abraham: I told them already you accepted the match.

Michaels: You are fired.

Abraham: No I'm not.

Michaels: I know...

Answer is still no though.

Abraham: Why?

Michaels: Because fuck him, that's why.

Drew slams his hand down on his desk as the scene finally opens around the easily recognizable voices of the two men conversing, Full Metal Wrestling superstar Andrew Michaels and his aide and best friend Abraham. They are, as usual, sitting in the Philadelphia office of Drew's former private investigation business where the topic of Drew's coming match against William McKenzie and Nicholas Bryson has become the topic of conversation due to the identity of Drew's partner, the reigning Full Metal Wrestling Heavyweight Champion Hannibal Frost.

Abraham: Him being...Nick?

Michaels: No. I mean, fuck him too but not in this particular case. William either. I mean that other little shit that they want me to carry through this match.

Abraham: Hannibal? I thought you would love the chance to compete with the FMW Champion at your side...

Michaels: You thought wrong. Get Apotasy to do it, he never gets booked anyway.

Abraham: Can't do that and you know it. It is already booked.

Michaels: Hate.

Abraham: What is your problem with him?

Drew stares intently at his friend, shock covering his face.

Michaels: Really?

Abraham: What?

Michaels: Did you REALLY just ask that Abraham?

Abraham: I thought it was a legitimate question...

Michaels: He attempted to kill me.

Abraham: So did Harley though and you never think for a second before calling him your friend, ally, and confidant.

Michaels: That is different.

Abraham: How?

Michaels: It...

Drew allows the sentence to trail off.

Abraham: Yes?

Michaels: You cannot begin to understand.

Abraham: Try me.

Drew shakes his head, smiling weakly.

Michaels: You will see, you will all see. First, however, I have work to do.

Abraham: Great way of changing the subject.

Michaels: I try. (Turns to the newspaper on his desk) Fourteen new inventions patented in the last week by a single man. An entire school district refuses to show up for work. A park has died overnight, all of the flora and fauna dead within hours. Something vile is going on.

Abraham: And where would this be happening?

Abraham reaches out and pulls the newspaper up to eye level and laughs at the irony before him.

Abraham: The Florence Morning News. Weren't you-?

Drew cuts him off before he can finish his sentence.

Michaels: Yes, I was born in Florence. Yes, my father was the mayor of Florence. Yes, I hate every single goddamn minute I spend in that desolate wasteland. Yes, I am still going anyway because I have a theory.

Abraham: That theory being...?

Michaels: That someone is trying to attack me where I live and I do NOT take kindly to it. But first, I have to check in with someone important to me.

Abraham: That being...?

Michaels: My brother Abraham, my baby brother...

Drew sighs as the scene fades to black...


The scene reopens to the bar Apple Annie's, a Florence tradition. Sitting in the back corner of the bar, next to the pool tables, is a figure in a dark trench-coat and a baseball cap pulled up his face. He is dressed extremely unusually for the month of April in the South Carolina heat but does not seem uncomfortable at all, sipping slowly on his water and occasionally checking the watch on his wrist. Eventually, after a few minutes, a second man joins him.

Kevin: Been a bit of time brother, glad you could finally find it in yourself to get in touch with me.

Michaels: I watched you die Kevin.

Kevin: I've heard that rumor, yes.

Michaels: Bullshit on it being a rumor little brother, I saw the Saint of Killers put a bullet in your head. And then...and then I get a letter from you a few weeks ago saying you are alive? It is just...hard to comprehend.

Kevin: Others died during that time to, I heard even you.

Michaels: I am different.

Kevin: Why can't I be?

Michaels: Because...because of who my father is compared to yours.

Kevin: We were raised by the same man.

Michaels: But not spawned from the same.

Kevin: You mean this Bryson bloodline that is supposed to make you all powerful.

Michaels: Something like that.

Kevin: I have trouble believing it Drew.

Michaels: Why? You have seen my world Kevin, why would you doubt me?

Kevin: Because...because I am sorry.

Michaels: What are you talking about?

Tears begin to run down Kevin's eyes as he stands up and rips his shirt off to reveal an unusual symbol tattooed across his chest, glowing bright red as people begin to turn and stare at the incredible scene before them.[/.i]

Michaels: What the fuck is this?

Kevin: He...he brought me back to life. I knew what had happened but I thought... I thought you would stay away from here; from this place after all the painful memories. I thought you would never come back. But one of the Princes knew about his plans and took root here to bring you home and now...now I have to follow through with my mission. Dammit Drew, I'm so sorry.

Michaels: Kevin...

Kevin: Run...please run.

[i]The light on his chest grows brighter as Kevin reaches out and touches the wall nearest to him, causing it to crumble instantly. People begin to yell and rush out of the back door as Drew jumps out of his seat and tries desperately to reach his little brother.

Michaels: Why are you doing this Kevin!?

Kevin: He wants to destroy you, I cannot possibly deny his will. He gave me life when I knew none and now he will take it away to order to remove the last threat to his ascenscion. I am so sorry Drew, if I could stop I would.

Michaels: You CAN stop! You WILL stop! You are strong Kevin! Stronger then me, stronger then any of us! You fought for our country and survived, you can beat this!

Drew swallows deeply, hoping this gamble will work. He pulls together the entirety of his strength and will and pushes it into his voice.

Michaels: KEVIN MICHAELS, YOU SHALL STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!

The authority of God Himself echoes through Drew's voice but Kevin does not halt, he does not even falter in his vile pursuit. The glow continues, consuming the entire room; a room now populated by only Drew and his pained brother. Kevin is actively crying now, silently begging his brother to run away from him. However, Drew refuses to ever abandon him.

Not again.

Michaels: What...what is happening Kevin?

Kevin: He made me a weapon in order to cripple you, to destroy you where it hurts the most. He wants nothing less but your total destruction Drew. I...I am so, so sorry...

Michaels: Who is he?

Kevin: He...

Kevin trails off, bending over in pain. Drew reaches out timidly and touches his brother's shoulder, feeling his skin burn the moment it touches Kevin's red-hot flesh. However, Drew refuses to remove his hand and holds strong to be there for his brother.

Michaels: Kevin, who did this to you?

Kevin (Crying): Drew, I'm so sorry; I'm so, so, so, so sorry...

Michaels: Dammit Kevin! Focus! Who did this to you?

Kevin: It...It was Exodus...

Kevin coughs out the name, his body barely containing the breath needed to form the words. He collapses to the ground, forming a mass of glowing flesh that gives off a definite aura of discomfort and misgivings. Drew steps towards the pile and reaches forward with his right hand, cautiously touching his brother one last time. Then, as if reacting to Drew's divine touch, the red energy pours out of Kevin and envelops the entire building, incinerating the structure and leaving Drew and Drew alone standing.

And then, like all that is around him, Drew falls. As his head hits the Earth, the scene fades to the eternal, the forever, the black...


...The scene reopens in a modest home on the western part of the city of Florence, not too far from the commercial center of the town. Drew Michaels slowly opens his eyes, blinking weakly in an attempt to regain consciousness. He fights back into the world and the weight of what has just happened hits him like a semi-truck full of bricks.

His brother, his baby brother, is dead. Again. And, like last time, it is all because some psychotic asswipe wanted to hurt not the victim but Drew.

The guilt washes over Drew like the tide washing over the shore, he feels the familiar sting as he lays in the bed and attempts against hope to rationalize what has occurred in last few hours of his life.

Or has it been longer than that? Drew is not sure, realizing just that second that he is now in a bed, a bed in a home he has never seen before in his life. He jerks up and looks around frantically for a sign, any sign, of what this location may be but sees nothing but the hospital bed he is lying in. The walls are bare in not only this room but all others from what Drew can see gazing down the hall. Nothing adorns this habitat, no personal effects clutter the world around him. Drew cannot even for the life of him find a clock to determine how long he had been unconscious for. Normally, that would not be a problem for Drew as he has an impeccable internal sense of time but something about him still feels...off. He chalks it up to perhaps some type of pain medicine given to him at the hospital or urgent care or wherever he had been treated after being found in the ruins of the restaurant.

Drew tries in vain to pull himself out of the bed but cannot do any more than throw one leg out of the bed. The pain is excruciating, he feels like he has wrestled a hundred matches in a day's time and gone all out in every single one of them. He is absolutely exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open as he struggles to keep from drifting back to sleep, a sleep perhaps well needed but not at all wanted due to the pace at which is mind is currently working. Drew moves his left arm and feels every muscle strain against him, every old injury flare up at once to defiantely tell him no. Despite his wishes, Drew can do nothing but lay there for now, unable to attend to the one million different affairs of his that needed attending to, the most pressing being finding out how Exodus did that to his brother and exacting a painful, torturous revenge upon the foul beast.

First his son, now his brother. Exodus shall pay.

However, that payment cannot be exacted now; not with the physical shape Drew has awakened in. The only thing he can seem to do is rest, remaining entirely bedridden due to the pain surging through his body like a live current. The pain is unbearable, forcing him to sink into the bed even when he hears footsteps entering the room. All Drew can make out is a dark form slightly to his right, a form that scoffs at the man below him.

Wayne: Pitiful little fuck, aren't you?

His stepfather, Wayne Michaels; the opposite of all that Drew believes in and perhaps the one human being Drew hates more than any other.

Wayne: Are you finally awake down here or were my eyes just fucking with me from down the hall?

Michaels: I...I am here.

Wayne: Bout fucking time.

Michaels: Where am I?

Wayne: My home. Isn't it just fucking grand? After SOME little asswipe went to the press about some...details of my time as mayor, I was disgraced. My “friends” all abandoned me when I became tainted and radioactive and I was sued into the fucking poor house, quite literally as you can see, by a group of citizens who claim to have been mistreated during my tenure. Funny thing is, they had a much better lawyer than they had any right to be able to afford and word is he took the case pro bono. Something about a religious fucking calling...

Wayne stares down at Drew, accusing his son of crimes against him that Drew knows he very well did commit and is still proud to have done so even after finding himself in the care of the bastard who tortured him in his youth.

Michaels: Still not sure why I am here...

Wayne: When they found your ass, I was apparently the first person they thought to contact. Even with your whore of a mother dead, I am still stuck with you forever it seems.

Michaels (Weakly): Fuck...Fuck you.

Wayne (Laughs): Always defending the fucking tramp to the last breath, story of your goddamned life. Maybe one day you will learn she isn't worth and never was worth your time.

Drew decides right then and there he was done with this abuse and, despite the immensity of the pain he was suffering through, pushes himself up and out of the bed. As his feet hit the floor, the pain rushes through him anew. It comes in waves, each one crashing down harder and more violently than the last could ever have hoped to. However, still Drew perseveres; step by step fighting his way out of this devil's home.

Wayne is simply amused.

Wayne: And where exactly do you think you are going?

Michaels: To take care of my business here and get out of this forsaken place.

Wayne: That business being...?

Michaels: You could not hope to understand.

Wayne: Fucking try me.

Michaels: There is a demon here, something somehow even more foul than yourself. A vile monster who is perverting the people of this city in an attempt to draw me out for an attack. And fuck it all to Hell, it worked. Now it is my turn.

Wayne is silent for a minute before speaking slowly and deliberately.

Wayne: I think I know what you are looking for.

Drew stops dead in his tracks and turns away slowly to stare at his father. His mind is racing to attempt to comprehend the information presented to him with those few simple words. There just can be no way that this could be possible, that it could be so easy.

Michaels: Please do not fuck with me on this...

Wayne: No...No, I know. There is this group in town, they do some really fucked up shit. A few of them run in the higher level of society and I dealt with them during my tenure as mayor. Really whacked out fuckers, they worship some kind of demon in hopes of gaining even more wealth and power.

Michaels: Sounds like the proper description of that which I hunt...

Wayne: I can take you to their meeting place.

Michaels: Why would you do this for me?

Wayne: This isn't for you fuck-up. It is for me, these fucks tried once to take me out for not joining their little cult and a chance to get back at them AND possibly get you killed in the process is just not one I can turn down.

Michaels: Such paternal love...

Drew sighs, accepting his fate as the scene again fades to black...


The scene reopens in the basement of the old Florence Mall, a once thriving location now abandoned to a handful of large corporate businesses. Drew, despite growing up in the town, never even knew such a basement existed and now he travels it, though he does so extremely slowly due to the constant pain; a pain he has never experienced before. Even before, when something of his magnitude had stricken him, his abilities as both an Anak and as the Chosen One would kick in eventually and release a wave of endorphins to numb the pain as the particular ailment healed in an exponential fashion.

For some reason, this was not the case this time.

As they descend the stairs into the basement, Wayne turns back to this son and leans back to whisper to him.

Wayne: Now remember, we don't know how many of these fucks will be down here nor how they will react to us. Just be prepared for anything, the general plan is to convince them we are trying to join their fruity outfit.

Michaels: Not calling their perversion of a faith a “fruity outfit” is probably a good start...

Wayne: Not calling it a perversion is probably another.

Michaels: Fair enough.

Finally, the two men reach a closed door. Wayne attempts to knock rather strongly but instead the door opens wide upon his initial touch, revealing a full and spacious room lit only by torch and candle. Drew steps in cautiously behind his father and looks around, surprised at how empty it all is.

Michaels: No one is here...

Wayne: No one alive at least.

Michaels: What are you talking about?

Wayne directs Drew's attention to the floor and the Chosen One jumps back in shock. Covering the floor are an assortment of robed bodies, all bleeding out of identical stab wounds in their stomachs. The wounds at first glance seem to be from a blade but no indication of struggle of any sort are present. It is as if the men all just started bleeding from magically opened wounds and collapsed dead without any sort of warning.

Drew shivers at the coldness of the scene before him.

Michaels: What could have happened here?

Wayne: Isn't that your area of expertise?

Drew leans down and touches one of the wounds, hoping to feel something that could guide them in their thirst for discovery. However, he senses nothing. Likewise, he senses no evil in the room at all, unusual for a room so obviously full of death and despair. In fact, Drew can sense nothing at all like he normally is able to.

He feels blind even though he retains his sight.

Michaels: Something is seriously wrong here.

Wayne: Well that is a given.

Drew presses forward and finds buried under the largest pile of bodies a small statue, only a couple feet tall at best. The statue is squidlike in nature and pure obsidian, dark as the starless night. Drew recognizes the statue from somewhere but is unable to put his hand on the idea so instead puts his hand upon the statue and suddenly feels as if he has been whisked a million miles away in a second. Instead of the dimly lit room, Drew feels like he is standing in a swamp. The ground below him is no longer hard but instead marshy, soft under foot. He looks around frantically but does not even catch of glimpse of his father nor the deceased men in robes. Instead, he only sees a figure who seems to be a life-size version of the statue he had seen earlier.

Michaels: What are you?

The being laughs, a laugh that echoes unnaturally through everything.

Being: You are smart enough to ask what instead of whom yet not wise enough to decipher the answer yourself. It amuses me.

Michaels: That is...good I guess. I aim to please random squidlike monsters in creepy marshes.

Being: Monster? No, I am no monster. I came before such a term and I will outlive such a term.

Michaels: Then again I ask, what are you?

Being: An elder among even the oldest ones, I predate time itself. I came forth from a Blasphemy and spawned with my golden eyed brother. I am the darkness given form yet care not for the mortal distinctions of morality. My mere mention invokes terror in the normal man and I rule this plane as my own for millenia.

I am Cthulhu.

Michaels: Bullshit.

Cthulhu: Do not test me mortal, it is only by Her hand you are not waste in the swamp like the remains of R'lyeh.

Michaels: Her?

Cthulhu: Gaea of the Outer Gods, the Earth itself. Though I am not of Her plane, I respect Her power and knows She is stronger than even ancient Voorhl.

Michaels: And She protects me?

Cthulhu: You are Chosen by Her avatar.

Drew thinks for a minute before the lesson taught to him by Jacob Mobius, the mortal form of the treacherous Morningstar, rushes back into his mind.

Michaels: Gaea is God and God is Gaea.

Cthulhu: Different names for the same being. The Earth itself empowers you or at least once did.

Michaels: What do you mean?

Cthulhu: The trace of Her touch remains but only in the form of remnants. Your true blessing has been blocked by the foulest of magicks.

Michaels: Meaning the abilities granted to me by my blessing are gone. Somehow something finally makes a touch of sense...

Cthulhu: The magick blocks your connection to the source of your power.

Michaels: Leaving me defenseless against the enemies around me such as the demon still loose.

Cthulhu: A lower spawn, perhaps a distant child of the Demogorge.

Michaels: The god-eater.

Cthulhu: Your knowledge is impeccable, I see why Gaea has Chosen you.

Drew decides to not tell the Elder God he learned that from a comic book.

Michaels: Why am I here? Why did you call me here using the statue?

Cthulhu: I did not such thing, I cannot due to my curse nor do I have any desire to do so even if I could. My existence is solitary and filled only with my slumber.

Michaels: Except now.

Cthulhu: No, I slumber even now mortal. What you speak to is only an avatar of my unconscious mind. In my full glory, I would destroy your mind and leave your body a trembling, useless wreck.

Michaels: And Gaea would not like that so you spare me out of respect for Her power.

Cthulhu: Correct again.

Michaels: Well that is good at least...

Cthulhu: However, it does not answer the question we both seem to have, why you are here at this point and time.

Michaels: I have no clue. I was investigating what I thought was a cult of demon worshippers, it turns out they were your followers.

Cthulhu: The Cthuuloids.

Michaels: Works for me. Anyway, I found them all dead from identical wounds and, while examining the remains, I found a statue of, well, you. I touched it and found myself here.

Cthulhu: Intriguing, intriguing indeed mortal. Sounds as if some power is out to have you removed from the field of play.

Michaels: Oh, well there is a list of those; a list constantly growing.

Cthulhu: A war brews on Gaea's realm.

Michaels: I think “brew” is the understatement of the year at this point.

Cthulhu: And you find yourself in the center of it?

Michaels: Right in the middle.

Cthulhu: Then I shall send you back and I shall restore your blessings.

Michaels: You can do that?

Cthulhu: I can do many things, the magicks used on you are old and powerful but some are older and more powerful yet. Find that which did this to you and exact your vengeance, I shall slumber and pray that I shall not be awakened in this conflict.

Drew nods as Cthulhu's avatar sinks back into the swamp and he feels his body, his mind, and his abilities all restored instantly. He takes a deep breath and feels the tug of the transport home; smiling slyly Drew gives himself to the pull as our scene fades yet again to black...


We return to the story in a graveyard at midnight, a scene as spooky and creepy as it sounds. Drew is gingerly making his way through the murk covering the ground, closing his eyes at random intervals and taking a deep breath. Drew knows this cemetery and prays that what he expects to find is not fact and instead another trick. However, Drew pushes forward down what to him is a familiar path and finds himself in front of a headstone he has laid eyes on many times before.

It is that of his mother, Mary Michaels.

Drew feels the sting of guilt rush through him as he considers the fact that the only reason he is even here is because of a demonic influence. He should come here more often, he should be there to pay respects to the woman who did nothing wrong but love him and suffered silently in an attempt to give him the world. He knows that he was never the best son but she was easily the best mother he could have ever dreamed of having.

Which makes this all the harder.

Drew has tracked the source of the corruption in this city to this place and now knows exactly why it has been chosen over any other. In a bid to fuck with Drew through his life, attacking his mother's grave is one of the highest insults along with assaulting his wife or child. However, it is obvious that very thing has happened as the cross engraved upon the headstone has been scratched out and a word scribbled across it. Drew nods slowly, recognizing the word and realizing his initial concerns were correct.

Michaels: Belphegor.

Drew reads the name out loud, giving credence to one of the dreaded Princes of Hell. He had assumed this particular Prince was involved in the recent events and now he was proven correct. Drew feels a shift in the winds around him as he stares down at the tombstone and knows that soon things were about to pick up around there.

Michaels: Reveal yourself!

The wind hisses at Drew.

Michaels: Reveal!

The wind hisses again and Drew feels something moving under his feet. Stepping backwards quickly; he sees a small, feminine hand burst out of the ground where he had been standing. The hand searches frantically for Drew's foot but finds nothing, diving back underground before the entire Earth explodes forth. Dirt flies through the air as Drew shields his eyes from the incoming hubris. When he looks back again, he sees a form standing before him. A very familiar form...

His mother.

Drew is taken aback, it is obviously his mother before him; however she more like a zombiefied version of her old self. Drew knows this is a trick, he knows that his mother's actual bones are probably not even under the “skin” of the being before him. For the amount of time she has been dead, nothing but bones should be left at this point anyway. Drew's logical side knows all too well this is just another mind game being played by the infamous coward Belphegor...

But it still hurts.

Michaels: Demon, leave that form be!

“Mary”: What are you talking about Drew?

Hearing his mother's voice again causes Drew to choke up. He fights back tears.

Michaels: You have no fucking right!

“Mary”: I...I'm scared Drew. Protect me, please!

Michaels: What is your endgame Belphegor? You expect me to let you walk away simply because you were able to animate a corpse? You slaughtered those people, the cultists! You have done nothing but run ruckus over the people of this city simply to draw me out! There is NOTHING you can do to save yourself here Belphegor!

“Mary”: Then strike me down son, do what you must. If you have to destroy me to save countless others, I will understand. I raised you right Andrew and I expect you to do the right thing no matter what. So do it son...

Hit me like your father used to.

Michaels: HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!?

Drew throws his left hand up and the corpse before him explodes into a thousand tiny pieces, a violent display of the pure power that courses through his body. Drew is breathing heavily now, knowing he is acting rashly and not caring either way.

Michaels: You just do not get it, do you? You consider my familial ties to be weakness, to be a burden that allows you to strike as you please. You have used my family to get at me but what you have not considered is that all you have done is driven me more; made me STRONGER! Family is a bond that cannot and shall not be broken, not by you and not by anyone!

Just like my cousin Nicholas, just like William McKenzie; you do not get it. I will do anything for family...

Drew continues to extend his left hand and feels the renegade energies of the mad demon raging around him. He focuses all of his might into containing the beast and contain him he does; just as he had done with his brethren before him. As the storm subsides, Drew collapses into a pile, grasping tightly on the stone in his palm. He falls on to his mother's headstone, no longer scarred by the demon's dark presence, and weeps openly, knowing what he has lost and what could be lost still.

Michaels: Anything.

The scene fades to the final black...

Darkness surrounds me. From all directions, I hear nothing but hideous laughter. Right behind my ear, there's a harsh, familiar whisper.

"You thought I loved you, Damien? You thought I actually cared about a psychotic murderer like you? Naive little Damien. No one really cares about you."

I turn to find Jess standing only inches away, her beautiful face twisted into a hideously malevolent smile. Her blue eyes seem to glow with an eerie green tint.

"Jess," I whisper. "Please--"

"So stupid!" Green fire engulfs her body, and she begins to drift away. "So easy to manipulate! You know that I've done nothing but hurt you, and yet you still long for me."

She throws her head back and laughs. A serpentine tongue slithers from her mouth, only for a breif second. She floats further and further away from me. I panic.

"Jess! NO! Come back!"

****

"JESS!"

I awoke from that terrible nightmare with sweat covering my body. My eyes burned with ever-present tears, feeling as hot and corrosive as acid on my face. The desolate and dark bedroom felt cold in spite of the sweltering heat outside. The heavy quilt wrapped around me wasn't even enough to stop my constant shivering.

As I gatherd my thoughts, the door opened, a whisper in the near pitch black darkness. Barely audible footsteps sounded on the floor, advancing upon the bed. I reached for the dagger hidden beneath my pillow, ready to launch it at this intruder.

The quilt rustled as a short sillhoutte crawled onto the bed. The figure breathed deep and steady, with a certain senuality to the rhythm. As she crawled a croos me, she planted one lingering kiss upon my lips, and for just a moment, my heart lit back up.

"Jess," I sighed, and wrapped my arms around her.

She wiped the tears from my cheeks and ever gently kissed each one. Euphoria rushed through my body, like a junky finally getting a fix after so long waiting. She placed her lips next to my ear, and whispered, "I can be whoever you want me to be."

My eyes snapped open as realization dawned over the ignorance in my head.

"E-Eliza?"

I nearly kicked her off of me, but she held on to the sheets with more strength than I'd thought possible in her comparitively petite frame.

"Please," she implored. "I just. . . I just can't stand for you to suffer. Let me ease your pain."

I rolled over on top of her, and her arms snapped into place around my neck, her legs around my waist.

"Yes," she moaned, drawing the word out. "Take me. Take it all out on me."

Part of me wanted nothing more than to just let go right there. It would've been so nice; so. . . refreshing and soothing.

But that part of me wouldn't be getting a damned thing for a while. Using all of my strength, but being as gentle as I could manage, I puhed her off of me and jumped off of the bed.

"Dam--"

"Hush!" It probably came out much harsher than intended,but at least I'd gotten my point across. I walked to the door and gestured for her to go.

"Damien, ple--"

"Leave."

She started to say something else, but fell silent. Her head hung low in reluctant surrender, she stood and walked to the door. As she stepped into the faint light spilling in fom the doorway, I realized that in my disorientation caused by the nightmare and my exhaustion, I hadn't noticed that Eliza was completely nude.

As you can imagine, that other part of me was thoroughly pissed at me at that moment. I focused on her face, careful not to let my eyes wander. She stopped next to me, turned away and bent over to retreive her discarded robe.

I averted my eyes, and that other part screamed at me, told me how stupid I was. I honestly couldn't bring myself to disagree.

She shrugged the robe back on and tied it closed. She took a deep breath, turned to me, and looked me dead in the eye. Disappointment and patience held equal rule over her eyes.

"I understand," she said. "You need time to get past her betrayal. I can wait. Take your time."

Before I could venture a response, she was out the door and gone.

Some sadistic god up in the heavens must find shitting all over me pretty hilarious.The girl I love cheated on me and tried to kill me. Eliza seemed to be obsessive. I couldn't win a fucking match for the life of me.

And then I had a splitting migraine.

Fuck.

* * *

Minutes passed before an agonizing knock came from the door and nearly shattered my sanity with pain.

"What?" I screamed.

I slight pause ensued before an agitated growl replied.

"You watch your damned tone with me, boy!"

Oh. Robert. Shit.

I walked to the door, fully dressed and awakened by the escapade with Eliza and the migraine that followed. Upon opening the door, I found Robert standing there, glaring at me menacingly in, I shit you not, a flannel patterned work shirt and a black kilt. I could barely keep from laughing.

"You've got a lesson boy. Get your arse outside."

I tilted my head in confusion. Looking down at my watch, I noticed the time was 2:54 A.M.

"A lesson. Outside. At three in the morning?"

He smiled, knocking five to ten years off of his features. "Oh, ayae. No better time than the darkest parts of the morn to play with fire."

My eyes widened and a pyromaniacal smile spread across my lips.

"Hell yeah."

As we walked through the house, I once more noticed the weapons and homages to days passed. Between displays of weapons no doubt centuries out of date and worth more money than I could venture a thought to were paintings depicting battles long forgotten, most involving what looked to be vikings. One particularly old painting showed a rather burly viking warrior aginst a background of a landscape battle scarred with spears, swords, and flags stuck in the ground. Lightning struck the dirt somewhere in the distance.

The warriors hands were outstretched above his head, and as if held there by some unearthly force, a great war hammer floated inches above his reach.

"Thor."

"Aye. The mighty Norse God of thunder and lightning. The great protector of all mankind."

I grunted in approval. "I've always had a mind for mythology. My favorites were Egyptian and Norse."

"No doubt two of the most interesting."

Silence reigned through the rest of the walk to the foyer. More age old weapons and paintings of vikings vanquishing their foes adorned the great hall.

"Quite a collection, Robert."

"Thank you. Theyre all old and quite battle-worn. In fact, all together, they've probably seen nearly as much war as myself."

I stared at him for a moment out of the corner of my eye, but let the point drop.

Jesus. How old was this guy?

The grounds surrounding the mansion were extensive, complete with wooded all around, and a fucking nine foot tall hedge maze. Statues of gods of multiple pantheons decorated the flatter and clearer areas. Depictions of Zeus, Ganesha, Kali, Isis and Osiris, Aphrodite, and Pan, among others, filled the area. However, in the center of it all, set above all others on the highest pedestal, was another depiction of Thor, hammer held high above his head.

Behind me, Robert said, "Right. Time for your first lesson in pyromancy."

I turned to find him with his hands together in a position akin to prayer. He breathed steadily, gathering his focus.

"Wizard's fire," he continued, "comes from what makes the wizard who he is: his heart, and the emotion there-in."

His hands reached togther above him, and then separated, much the pose as in the portrait of Thor.

"The more intense and passionate the emotion used, the hotter it burns.

"Each wizard's flame manifests in a certain color, representing the spirit of the user."

Between his hands, a sphere of royal blue flame came into being, then exploded into the air like a roman candle, lighting the night ablaze. The way the fire slithered through the air reminded me of a dragon in flight.

Then, as quickly as they burned into existence, the flames disapeared. Robert crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at me.

"Your turn, Damien."

I stared at him blankly for a moment, confused by his rather vague tutorial.

"Er. . .you sure about that?"

He nodded, a full smile on his lips then. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Ya know, given your name and such, you think this'd come naturally to you," he remarked amidst a chuckle.

I glared at him momentarily, then let the joke pass, closed my eyes, and gathered my focus. I brought to the forefront of my mind all of the bullshit I'd gone through lately, and the emotions that accompanied them; sorrow, pain, rage, guilt. I poured it all out, along with all the will and power I could summon.

The result: a pile of fucking nothing.

Robert burst into a long cackle. "Focus, boy! You allow the emotion to control you instead of the other way around. It kills the focus."

I could have punched him right there, but that would have been a useless waste of perfectly good anger.

This time, I kept my breathing steady, my mind focused upon flame. All of my emotions, this time, become so vivid, so fresh, it was as if I was reliving each event over again simultaneously.

When I opened my eyes this time, I let it all loose. Crimson red flame foured from my hands. For an instant, I thought I saw something in the flames.

The head of a lion.

I must've imagined it.

Robert vame to my side as the flames dissipated. He clapped a hand on my shoulder a let out a laugh of pride. "I knew you could do it, my boy! You found the fuel for your fire. And your spirit; the red. Courage. Passion."

I sneered. "And guilt. And wrath."

He shook his head. "All things that can be used to any end. Good or bad."

I didn't answer.

"Boy, you are not nearly as awful a person as you make yourself out to be. You were willinng to risk yourself for more than two hundred people you didn't know at that hotel. You need to stop the self-loathing and needless punishment. You're a bloody hero, hoss."

There was no time to retort to that lie. As my mind formulated a response, a loud cry issued from the woods. Seconds passed, and several more rose up from the trees, and dark figures made their way across the clearing, human in form, but more akin to predators in the way they moved.

"Christ," exclaimed Robert. "Vampires!"

"They descended upon us in feral glee, growling like wolves on the hunt. There were five of them, dressed in grunge casual wear. Faded t-shirts, torn up jeans, and an unbearable smell.

I turned to see robert cut his arm rather deep and rub the blood on his shirt.

"Get in the house, boy," he yelled. "I'll take care of this!"

As I looked on, the vampires ignored me completely and converged on my new teacher. A small part of me wanted to follow his order. I knew he could handle this easily.

But I just couldn't abide cowardice.

I gathered my focus and my rage and let loose a column of fire that engulfed one of the vamps and burned him to a crisp. It felt good to barbecue the blood sucker.

I reached into myself for the power to repeat the spell. . .and found nothing waiting there.

Two of the vamps turned and ran towards me; confusion was kicked out of the way in favor of survival instinct. Without pause, I pulled a pair of Bowie knives from my belt and vented my anger another way. As the vamps closed in on me, I couldn't help but bait them. I drew a small cut on my arm and laughed as they roared in hunger. The first tried to lunge and bite, only to be met with one of my blades slashing his throat open. Blood poured out, and he seemed more concerned with that than any pain, trying to catch the blood in his hand and swallow it.

His buddy turned and pounced on his comerade without thinking twice. His mouth closed on the wound and a sick slurping sound filled the air.

I can't stand this shit, I thought. I plunged one of the blades into the feeding vampire's skull, using it to pull his head back. He exhaled sharply, and I took my other blade and sloppily decapitated the monster. The injured vamp laid there staring up at me, half conscious. As I pulled the blade from his friend's skull, another, old part of me tried to reemerge.

It whispered in my ear ear intoxicating it would be to torture this already pained animal. It urged me to take my knives and slowly, agonizingly cut him up. Being a vampire, he would have stayed alive until he'd been decapitated or had his heart pierced. That would leave a lot of time for some fun.
But this was another side of me who would remain disppointed. I couldn't allow myself to give into such vices again.

One more messy beheading later, it was over. I turned to find Robert standing over two corpses. One had had its head crushed, and the other had a gaping hole in its chest the size of a dvd.

Holy shit.

"What the fuck just happened," I asked, not even making the attempt to hide my anger and confusion.

"Vampire attack," he snapped. "Obviously, you stupid little prick! What part of get in the god damned house don't you understand?"

I rolled my eyes at the old bastard. "Does it matter? We're both fine. No fuckin' harm done."

"Not exactly," a new voice replied.

From the shadows around the house came a man slightly shorter than myself with much longer than mine and a deadly pale complexion. He wore a long brown trench coat, spotted with what looked like dirt. His face bore no emotion. Not as if he was hiding what was there. That would have been too simple; too human.

He walked up to me and held out his hand. "Damien Inferno, F.M.W. Superstar. It's an honor to meet you."

I only stared at his hand, suspicious of this stranger.

"Who the fuck are you?"

His smile faded. "I've gone by a few names over the years. I suppose you can call me. . . Blaze."

"Blaze," I said, and paused in thought. "Didn't you compete in L.P.W. a while back?"

His smile returned, invigorated. "You recognize me, eh?" He ran his hand through his hair and spread his lips wider, revealing a long pointed fang on each side of his front teeth. "I'm flattered."

I knew my intincts should have told me to get away, or kill him, but instead, this felt comfortable. I felt a strange familial bond with him, some sort of kinship.

Robert cut in between us abruptly. "What in the blue hell are you and those other blood sucking pests doing on my property?"

"Pests?" The word spewed from Blaze's mouth like deadly venom. "We came here looking for sanctuary. If you are ignorant of current events, my species is in the throes of civil war. On one side, the Dark Queen, Tyrant of the Gluttonous. Her view on humanity is that they should be subserviant to their 'eternal superiors'. On the other side is the Magister. He wishes for us to live amongst your kind, invisible and peaceful. In his vision, we would be there, living among the humans, only revealing ourselves when absolutely necessary."

"Alright," said Robert. "Now you tell me why your friends attacked us."

Blaze shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I went to take a leak. When I came back they were all gone, and there was a shit load of yelling all around. We were going to visit during the day, to show our honesty, but thats in the shitter now."

I squinted. "During the day? Wouldn't that kill you?"

Blaze chuckled, genuinely amused by my ignorance. "No, no. My species of vampire isn't effected in such a way my Mr. Shiny up there. It makes us damn near blind with out sunglasses, and sweaty and hot as fuck, but that's about it."

". . .Species?"

The chuckle grew into a full hearted belly laugh. "You really thought there was only on kind of blood sucker?"

I looked to Robert for help.

He sighed. "He's sort of new to this world."

Blaze shook his head, smiling to himself. "Typical."

I could've mouthed off, but something occurred to me. A sneaky suspicion had hit me. I walked over to one of the corpses, bent down over it, and reached inside my head to pull up the Third Eye.

What I saw chilled me to my bones. The vampire's spirit looked like it'd been torn to pieces, chunks ripped out. Vague writing, like tattoos, adorned the unmarked areas. The same word, over and over, in different scripts and languages: Gluttony. Around his head, digging into his flesh, was a crown of thorns, somehow glowing black.

The other corpses looked much the same. It brought back memories of Rome. Isabella, crucified to the outside wall of the arena.

Oh, gods.

What the hell was happening?

To be continued. . . .

-Ammunition 13.2-
Live from the Greensboro Coliseum Complex in Greensboro, North Carolina


Tag Match
The Craig Ryans and Kyrian Hunter vs. Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Anwyl vs Nick Dream vs Atlas Adams vs Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm vs Damien Inferno, Christopher McEllens, and Butters (w/ Slegnadamus)

C-4 Rules Match
Jeff Whitt vs Abel Steele

TV Title Match
"Outlaw" John Andrews vs DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin vs Alex O'Rion

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT vs. Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

Tag Match
The Craig Ryans and Kyrian Hunter vs. Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Anwyl vs Nick Dream vs Atlas Adams vs Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm vs Damien Inferno, Christopher McEllens, and Butters (w/ Slegnadamus)

C-4 Rules Match
Jeff Whitt vs Abel Steele

TV Title Match
"Outlaw" John Andrews vs DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin vs Alex O'Rion

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT vs. Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

“How can I help you sir?” Asked the middle aged receptionist at the Raleigh nursing home.

“I want to see my grandmother, Irene Adams.” I responded promptly, while looking around the little space before the door into the nursing home, feeling slightly nausea.

The woman tapped a few keys on the keyboard for the office PC and looked up at me with a smile.

“Name please?”

“Atlas Adams.”

“You do know that your grandmother has Alzheimer’s, right?” A touch of concern came from the receptionist’s voice.

What a dumb question, of course I knew. “Yes, I know. She’s had it since I left for the Marines.” I took a deep breath, to control my rising anger, “I want to see her, I’m in town, and I just want a few moments. Can that be arranged please?”

The receptionist nodded. “Why of course, just wanted to make sure if you knew what you were in for. Irene has her good days and bad days. She may be very lucid or she may not remember who you are, just so you know.”

I sighed, I just wanted to see my grandmother, and I didn’t need a lecture on the effects of Alzheimer’s.

“What room please?”

“Ah yes…. Two –oh- one. Take the elevator on the right to the second floor and her room should be on the direct left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Then I turned on my heel and headed for the elevator.

As the elevator slowly rose to the second floor, I thought about the last time I saw my grandmother.
It was the day before I left for the Marines; I had come to the Carolinas to try to mend fences with her.

See, she’s my grandmother on my father’s side. She always loved me but understood that my father, Zeus’s decision to be an absent father. It infuriated me. I couldn’t understand how she could think walking away from your family was acceptable behavior.

The elevator doors slid open and my reverie was broken as my senses were assaulted with smells of disinfectant and a familiar smell I knew too well.

The impending smell of death.

To a normal person, it would be nauseating, to me? I felt right at home. Watching others, dying, you get used to it after a while.

I quickly spotted my grandmother’s room. The name plate on the door that said Irene Adams was on my direct left. The door was slightly ajar so I knocked then opened the door to announce my presence.

“Nana?" Are you awake?” I called out, before I saw her sitting in a rocking chair, wearing a worn cardigan. Her eyes were closed, but he fingers were moving too much for her to be asleep.

“It’s me, Atlas, your grandson.”

Still no response, just more spastic hand movement.

“Zeus’s son?”

Irene’s eyes shot open, her eyes were clouded a bit but she pointed at me frantically, her finger shaking.

“Zeus? Is that you?? Have you come to see your mama before your big match??”

I stepped closer into view. I knew that my grandmother probably wouldn’t have remembered me but it seemed she was thinking of my father, Zeus from about twenty years ago.

“No, I’m not…” I stopped myself as I grabbed my Nana’s hand, I would freak her out I was sure if I told her I wasn’t her son, Zeus.

“I’m not about to have a big match, Mama.”

“You’re not? Then who are you wrestling tomorrow?” Clearly, my grandmother was thinking of Zeus during his brief wrestling career. I decided to tell her about my match somewhat and hoped she would buy it.

“I’m wrestling three nobodies in Greensboro tomorrow.”

My grandmother’s hand tightened around mine. “Don’t underestimate them, my son. They just want to make a name for themselves at your expense.”

“I won’t Mama.” I was a little taken aback by my grandmother’s knowledge of wrestling. Something I never expected.

“You shouldn’t be here. You should be preparing for your match."

My grandmother pulled her hand from mine and closed her eyes.

“But I just got here, mama.”

My grandmother’s eyes shot open again and glared at me. “GO Zeus, I don’t need your pity. I know I’m sick; I can take care of myself. Go take care of Atlas, he needs you right now."

My mouth hung open at that statement. I wasn’t even born yet when Zeus was wrestling and then my grandmother brings up me a second later? She was obviously flipping back and forth in time in her mind. I didn’t want to push but I had to know something.

“I thought you were okay with my decision to walk away from Atlas, mama?”

A smirk crossed my grandmother’s face. “Are you crazy Zeus Roland Adams? You need to do the right thing and take care of your son. Your ex-wife and two other children are dead. For once in your life, be a father.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, I had always thought my grandmother had supported my father’s decisions. I needed to get out of there, before I said something to make things worse.

“Mama, I gotta go. I’ll take your advice.” I patted my grandmother’s hand and smiled weakly.

She smiled back. “Come back and tell me how it went son. Kick ass.” It seemed she had reverted back to my dad’s wrestling career. I watched as she closed her eyes and then I left the room quietly.

Walking across the parking lot, my hands began to nervously tremble. Could it be that my grandmother gave my father the same advice and he ignored it?

Anything was possible. Growing up, I never thought I would have killed forty people by now. Or become a Television champion pro wrestler.

OR be a no impact, FMW rookie.

Opening the door to my 2000 Honda rental car, I slid and quickly started it up.

Driving away from the nursing home, I turned on the radio and thought of two things nagging at the back of my mind.

If my grandmother disapproved of my father’s treatment of me and his family, then why did she say nothing to me?

Two, what was going to happen to my FMW career if I lost a fatal four way match to three nobodies?

-Ammunition 13.2-
Live from the Greensboro Coliseum Complex in Greensboro, North Carolina


Tag Match
The Craig Ryans and Kyrian Hunter vs. Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Anwyl vs Nick Dream vs Atlas Adams vs Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm vs Damien Inferno, Christopher McEllens, and Butters (w/ Slegnadamus)

C-4 Rules Match
Jeff Whitt vs Abel Steele

TV Title Match
"Outlaw" John Andrews vs DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin vs Alex O'Rion

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT vs. Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

-Ammunition 13.2-
Live from the Greensboro Coliseum Complex in Greensboro, North Carolina


Tag Match
The Craig Ryans and Kyrian Hunter vs. Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Anwyl vs Nick Dream vs Atlas Adams vs Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm vs Damien Inferno, Christopher McEllens, and Butters (w/ Slegnadamus)

C-4 Rules Match
Jeff Whitt vs Abel Steele

TV Title Match
"Outlaw" John Andrews vs DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin vs Alex O'Rion

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT vs. Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

Tag Match
Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm

C-4 Rules Match
Abel Steele

TV Title Match
DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

Tag Match
The Craig Ryans and Kyrian Hunter vs. Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Anwyl vs Nick Dream vs Atlas Adams vs Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm vs Damien Inferno, Christopher McEllens, and Butters (w/ Slegnadamus)

C-4 Rules Match
Jeff Whitt vs Abel Steele

TV Title Match
"Outlaw" John Andrews vs DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin vs Alex O'Rion

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT vs. Drew Michaels and Hannibal Frost

PROMO ONLY until MONDAY April 18th at 11:59pm EST, VOTING and PROMO until WEDNESDAY April 20th at 11:59pm EST
[/quote]

-Ammunition 13.2-
Live from the Greensboro Coliseum Complex in Greensboro, North Carolina


Tag Match
Eddie Chamberlain and Nick Gray

Fatal Four Way
Matt Ashburn

Six Man Tag Match
Leviticus, Matt Dunn, and Storm

C-4 Rules Match
Abel Steele

TV Title Match
DGS(c)

Last Man Standing
Chris Austin

Main Event:
Tag Team Match
Nick Bryson and TyranT

PLUS: The future of the FMW Tag Titles and MORE!