[// FORWARD \\]

October 22nd 2014 - the date is set. War Games. Six captains, each with a hand picked arsenal of guns for hire at their disposal and each with only one thing in mind - victory. Let us not be confused, this truly is no ordinary night.. this will be war. The line in the sand will quite clearly be drawn, five men on either side willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that the spoils of victory are theirs and theirs alone. Blood will be spilled, loyalties tested and the mental toughness of each individual will be pushed beyond breaking point. Oh yes, this is war, but it is in times like these you truly see what men are made of. Who will rise above all others? Who will stand, hand on heart with a crimson face, on the bodies of the fallen? Eli James has assembled a very.. unique group of individuals. Some have called them weak. Some have called them inexperienced. The truth is, Eli is smarter than you all think.

"To win without risk, is to be victorious without glory."

Eli James knows the risk behind selecting such unknown quantities is great.. though in war.. it is the art of surprise that has always been king. When the dust settles on that fateful night, Team Eli WILL stand victorious.. and our glory shall be plenty.
Let the games begin.

[// END FORWARD \\]

:: I stand there, my feet rooted to the cold hard tiles of my Philadelphia home. White-knuckled, I find myself clutching at edge of my kitchen bench staring down into a sink full of dirty dishes. "How did I get here?" I wonder, with no recollection of even leaving the comfort of my own bed. This abrupt instance of amnesia makes me feel uneasy.. I begin to notice cold beads of sweat dripping from my forehead and onto the dishes below. I can feel the pit of my stomach churning, and my legs begin to shake - I know whats coming. I try to hold it back, to fight it, but instead almost choke on whatever it was I had for dinner - I can't remember that either. I begin to vomit uncontrollably into the sink below, a mixture of day old pizza and Jack Daniels splashes off the dishes and sprays my forearms with the vile combination. A few painful dry reaches later and I'm already starting to feel a little better. I swallow hard a few times, my swollen glands makes it feel like I'm swallowing a golf ball. I lean over and grab a cloth off the counter, using it to wipe my forearms clean ::

"Great.."

:: I utter to myself as I grab a fresh glass from the cupboard above my head and flick on the cold water, filling up the glass. I turn off the tap and take a couple of mouthfuls - I can still taste the vomit. "War Games just around the corner and I'm getting sick. Perfect.", I think as I finish off the glass. Though physically I am feeling better, my mind instantly returns to that haunting fact.. there I was, standing white-knuckled at my kitchen bench in nothing but my underwear without even the slightest clue how I'd got there. Was I sleep walking? ::

"I told you..."

:: In a split-second, the realization came crashing down on me like an anvil that had been dropped from a ten-story building - it was them. The voices. I let go of the counter and spin around. The fluorescent tube lighting in the roof begins to flicker as a fly crawls across the tube. The lighting is inconsistently dim as I edge forward towards the table. The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to dissipate, evidence of my ever-growing relationship with these voices in my head. Are they really inside my head though? The seem so real. Speaking to me in calm, measured tones not unlike those of a Morgan Freeman prologue, I find it extremely calming. ::

"I told you they would all doubt you, that to them you would be nothing more than another face in the crowd.."

:: I gaze around the dimly lit room, as if expecting to see a physical representation of my own insanity, but there is nothing. I begin to move forward, walking slowly around my oak dining table. I drag my fingers along it's surface, feeling the imperfections of the grainy wood beneath my fingernails. I bring my gaze to the center of the table, and allow my eyes to rest upon the fruit bowl that occupies it. The fruit is rotten, decayed apples and oranges sporting a mossy covering of mould. Odd, I think to myself briefly, the fruit was fresh this morning. I reply to the voice in a measured tone of my own.. ::

"It was to be expected, I've offered them little knowledge of myself to this point. What they think they know about me and what they will come to discover are worlds apart. But of course, you know this..."

"I do,"

"I mean, it was you who brought me here. You're responsible for my entering the XWF and, in turn, all the destruction that will follow. But you're right, nobody here is taking me seriously yet. That needs to change."

"Soon enough.. soon enough. Give it time."

:: I stop walking around the table and pull my hand away from the grainy surface. A smirk breaks across my face as I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sour oxygen that is filtering through the room. ::

"Time.."

:: I reply, with a slight chuckle. ::

"You know I'm not a patient man. That time is now, little more than a week away. War Games - that's where I'll make my mark. That's where I will make everyone stand up and take notice. All the doubters, all the haters.. one by one they will all begin to see. I'll show everyone what I have known my entire life, what you have helped me to embrace.. that I am simply that much better than everybody else."

:: The voice replies swiftly, the casual tone no longer present and instead replaced with one of urgency. ::

"Yes, yes, War Games shall be your night Justin. However, do not underestimate the task that lies ahead. These are no ordinary men you'll be stepping into the ring with.. they are sick, twisted.. monsters is what they are.."

:: The smirk wiped clean off my face, I stare blankly into the space in front of me, listening intently. ::

"Don't forget why you came to me for help in the first place, why you pledged yourself to me. There are many horrors in this world Justin, and it just so happens that most of them reside within the confines of the XWF. If you want to succeed here, and you shall, you know what you must do. In order to beat a monster, you first must become one yourself. Break those shackles and unleash what lies within, the evil that threatens consume you. Together, you and I, we can control it.. harness it.. use it to our advantage. It's always there Justin.. always has been, you know this.. you just need to embrace it."

:: I know what the voice speaks is the truth.. we've had this conversation before, however, I'm always conflicted. It would be a lie to say I wasn't a little apprehensive about turning myself over to the voices inside my head; the evil that lies within. I don't want to completely lose myself, who I am. Deep inside though, the realization is great that if I want to succeed, I must surrender my soul when the battle-lines are crossed. ::

"I know. I will embrace it. At War Games, I will unleash a side of myself that even I haven't seen - one the XWF surely won't be expecting. For all the talk that's bound to go down this week, there will be one constant.. I will be perceived to be a weak link; a chink in the armor for Team Eli. But they are oh, so wrong. Azrael, Avery, Aerial, Steven, Jack - they will all witness my rebirth first hand as I take myself to the very depths of hell itself inside those caged rings. I promise you, I'm ready for this. My salvation will come in the form of five lifeless bodies piled beneath me as I stand triumphant on the battlefield.. by any.. [I smirk and narrow y eyes to create a look of foreboding evil].. and I do mean I any.. means necessary."

:: I hear clapping coming from directly behind me and quickly snap my neck around to look. Nothing there except the empty bottle of Jack Daniels from last night, laying dormant on its side on the kitchen counter. ::

"Oh, bravo Justin! Most inspiring. You do have some more pressing matters right now though, if you even want to make it to War Games. Somebody wants to see you."

"Wha.."

"Wake up, Justin!"

:: The voice echoing through my head like somebody is screaming into my ear with a megaphone, I clutch at the side of my head as the bottle of Jack Daniels comes rocketing off the counter..

WHACK!

I sit bolt upright in my bed, my alarm clock screaming like cat with it's tail caught in a mouse trap. I reach over and slam my hand down on it hard.. I'm not sure if I hit it too hard as it doesn't really shut off, but ore winds down with the volume trailing into nothingness. Great, I think to myself, another dream. I look over at the clock on the wall and almost fall out of bed. I've slept in.. like, really slept in. I've got a flight in just over an hour, some bullshit psych evaluation the XWF is making me go through before I can officially compete. Are these guys kidding me? There's a guy who thinks he's from planet who-gives-a-fuck in the fucking stars, and I need evaluating? The mind boggles. Still, though I'm not looking forward to it, it should be a fairly straight forward affair and not take too much time. Throwing myself out of bed, I grab an old pair of jeans off the floor, pull them on and throw on a t-shirt. No sense in dressing up for the occasion. I finish getting dressed and quickly go to brush my teeth before leaving.. that's when I notice it. Looking into the mirror, I see a lump on my forehead with a two inch cut just above my right eye. No, no it was just a dream, it's always just a dream - that's where I always hear them. It wasn't real, I think to myself.. It couldn't have been. ::

:: So I've been sitting in this damn waiting room for almost an hour now. I've had two cups of coffee, three glasses of water, made two trips to the bathrooms and eaten more jelly beans than I care to count. Just on the jelly beans - the ones on the counter - I'm not exactly sure I should be taking them, every time I do the receptionist looks at me like I'm stealing her daughters virginity. It's a jelly bean for fucks sake, relax. She doesn't need it anyway, I'm surprised she fits behind her desk. I sit there, elbows on my knees, staring at my palms.. they're glistening with a very thin layer of sweat. I don't know why, maybe I'm still a bit rattled from my dream.. or episode, whatever it was. I don't feel nervous though. I am perfectly calm, if not a little bit impatient. I just want to get this damn psych evaluation out of the way so I can get on with preparations for War Games. ::

Ring... ring... ring...

:: I glance up as the receptionists answers the phone. It's an extremely polite and brief conversation. Soon after answering, she covers the mouthpiece and turns to me. ::

"The doctor will see you now."

"It's about fucking time.."

:: It was out before I had even thought it, I swear. I'm the victim of piercingly unpleasant frown from the receptionist and probably deservingly so. ::

"Sorry... thanks."

:: I fumble my way through a half-hearted apology and make my way over to the doctors room. I knock on the door and a voice beckons me inside. Ahhh man, this guy is totally gay, I can already tell before I open the door just by the soft tone of his voice. Don't get it twisted, I don't have anything against homosexuals, but I know he's going to want to talk feelings and shit. I open the door and take one step - Uh huh. Called it, gay. Flowers every-fucking-where, a pink feature wall with white and silver pin-striping. This place is awful. There's a fireplace on one side of the room, though it's not lit. A large black leather sofa sits on top of a massive white fluffy throw rug and a round stained glass coffee table occupies the space in front of that - upon it sits Justin's file, a couple of stamps and a video recorder. The psychologist sits in a black leather seat on the opposite side of the coffee table to the sofa. He motions for me to sit down and I oblige, careful not to touch the pink cushions on the sofa. He reaches out his hand for me to shake. ::

"Hi Justin, I'm Dr. Grayson, but you can call me Kyle."

:: I shake his hand, it's a limp-wristed handshake just as I'd thought it would be. I withdraw my hand and the psychologist grabs for the video recorder and turns it on, facing it towards me. ::

"Mr. Sane, do you know why you're here?"

:: My gaze drifts down to the recorder. I'd better choose my words carefully. Or not, what the hell do I care. I'm getting that paper signed one way or the other. ::

"I'm here because for some unknown reason the pencil-pushing pin dicks at the XWF offices say that before I compete in an XWF ring, you need to sign that piece of paper."

"Mmm.. Justin, these 'pencil-pushers' as y.."

"I called them pin dicks, it's okay doc, you can say it.."

"No, that's okay. Mr. Sane, XWF management has come to me with some minor concerns over your mental well-being. They seem to think you are a bit.. unstable."

:: Is this guy kidding me? No shit, Sherlock. ::

"Are you serious right now? That's it? No offence Kyle, but have you seen that place? Half the fucking locker room is unstable! You've got guys who think they are from outer-space, a fucking midget who is so tripped out on LSD he actually believes he is a video game character.. hell, the other day I saw some faggot - no offense - walking around with a bunch of dildos taped to his head. I'm the unstable one? Let me make something perfectly clear to you before we even get started.. this is a mere formality. I know you want to get inside my head, see what you can find, try and trigger something but it's just not going to happen. See, this is how it's going to go down. You're going to sit there, I'm going to sit here, we'll wait about ten minutes or so and then you'll pick up that big green stamp there - the one with my name on it - and you're going to plant it smack bang in the middle of my file. 'SANE', signed, sealed and delivered straight to War Games where I am going to do exactly what nobody thinks I can - WIN."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple Mr. Sane. You see, this is being recorded so if we were to sit here twiddling our thumbs in silence for fifteen minutes, I don't think your new employers would see that as a fitting assessment, do you?"

"This.. [ I point to the video recorder ].. They're going to hear this? [ Kyle nods ] Well so much for fucking confidentiality, but you know what? You want something on the tape? I'll give you something on the tape. Since you are all oh-so-interested in my mental stability, let me make one thing perfectly clear to you. I don't care what you think. I came here to the XWF for one reason, because I know I have what it takes and I need to prove that to myself. You say you have the best competition in the world? You're damn fucking right you do.. and if I need to get a little bit crazy.. if I have to get downright fucking insane to come out on top, that's what I'll do."

:: All of a sudden I can feel a surge of adrenaline pulsating through my veins. I'm not even sure when it happened, when my calm and collected demeanor was replaced with vigor and intensity, but it felt good. It was like drawing in a lung full of crisp, fresh air after spending months locked in a basement. It was freedom. ::

"Since I've arrived here I've heard nothing but "rookie" this and "pretender" that. Well come War Games, that all changes. After it's all been said and done there's not a man in that locker room that won't know my name, of that you can rest assured. Eli James.. he gets it. I was his second pick.. his second pick.. without even knowing a damn thing about me, because he sees it. He senses it. He knows theres a storm coming and you either stand behind it or you get ripped apart by it's sheer devastation, which is EXACTLY what is going to happen to Azrael Erebus and his little group of misfits."

:: I lower my tone just a little, and speak slower, more deliberate. With a glint in my eye, I offer one of my trademark evil smirks to the camera. ::

"Ohhhh Azrael, how I am sure all of you think he would dispose of me in a matter of mere minutes. Unfortunately, the script I read from is far different. 'The man who came from the stars", how cute. I hold no fear for Azrael and his so-called supernatural abilities, nor do I care much for anyone else he has aligned himself with. I mean, what threat could they seriously pose to us? Outside of Azrael, who is going to step up and be counted when their team needs them the most? Jack? I don't even know what the fuck it is. Looks like a mummy had sex with a grass-hopper and then Frodo stuck his dick in it's eye. I mean seriously, it goes back to the point, you let transsexual mutants in here without any issues and you want to test me for fucking insanity?"

:: Kyle goes to interrupt me, but I hold my hand up to his face. I can feel my blood boil just a little, the audacity of that man. Wasting my fucking time in this fruity-ass pink palace. ::

"And Kessler? Yeah, I'll pay some credit where it's due.. kid can talk the talk. He's reeeeal good at shooting of that mouth of his. Let's hear how good his promos sound through splintered teeth and busted gums when I know a few Screws Loose. Fun fact, that's the superkick I'm going to use the knock his teeth straight down his throat. I didn't come here for amateur hour and I certainly didn't come here to listen to that hypocritical piece of shit Aerial Knight. One minute he's honorable, then he's not honorable.. and for fucks sake, which one of you idiots come up with the idea of putting a microphone in his hand? I watched about thirty seconds of one of his promos and found myself praying that death would take me before the end. If you see him, can you give him a message for me? Tell him Justin Sane says, 'I now dub thee... royally fucked'."

"Justin, I really think.."

"Did I say I was done? [ Kyle just stares at me, un-intimidated it would seem, but prepared to let me continue nonetheless. ] Then you've got Avery, he's not much better than Aerial. Every time I hear that guy talk it's like nails on a chalkboard, it just drives me nuts. Oh but don't worry, I'm only telling you all this so you have a little something to listen to on your tape. I'm going to have a much, much more personal conversation for all my adversaries before War Games. I just thought you might like a little bit of a show, maybe judge for yourself if I was unstable or not. Rest assured, I am very much in control of my emotions, for the most part. However, at War Games.. Team Erebus will all take the pledge."

:: It's at this point I realize that the psychologist has been pouring over my file once again. He slowly looks up from the pages in his hands and into my eyes ::

"And.. what about.. what about the voices?"

:: I narrow my eyes and study him for a moment. I hadn't expected this question, I wasn't even sure how they knew. I didn't care though.. that clearance was as good as signed as far as I was concerned. I tilted my head to the left as I stood up and considered the doctor in front of my. Now he was intimidated. ::

"You want to know about the voices? The ones inside my head? [ I chuckle menacingly ] Oh, what sweet nothings they whisper in my ear. They've told me things, you know. Lots of things. I hear them mostly in my dreams doctor.. you want to know about my dreams? They're interesting enough, I suppose. They usually begin with me vomiting uncontrollably with no recollection of how I got to wherever it is I am at the time. But these dreams, they're not.. not your ordinary dreams."

:: I begin to make my way around the table, walking slowly and not for a moment taking my eyes off the doctor, or changing the gravelly undertone in my voice. ::

"They're real doctor. I try to convince myself otherwise sometimes, but I know it's true. Look at my forehead - you see this lump? See this cut? [ Kyle swallows hard, then nods. ] I got this in my dream last night.. the one where the voices spoke to me. Told me what I must do in order to make a statement at War Games, how far I must be prepared to go. Some would call these dreams nightmares, but not me. I welcome them. You said they were worried that I might be unstable? You have no fucking idea just how unstable I can be. But here's the deal, Kyle."

:: I grab the scrawny psychologist by the scruff of his collar and reef him to his feet. The paper file falls out of his hand and onto the table. I explain to our good friend that he is going to sign my clearance, or he is going to see first hand just how unstable I can be. With a quivering hand he reaches into his shirt pocket and withdraws a pen. He signs the clearance and I let him go. ::

"T..There, I've signed it. Now p..please, just go."

"Well now that wasn't so hard now, was it? [ I lean down to grab the file ] Oh wait, you forgot something."

:: Instead of grabbing the file, my hand wraps around the cylinder shaped handle of the stamp next to it. Before the doctor can react, I hold the end of the handle against his forehead and with my free arm, grab him by the back of the head and drive his head down with a quick, snapping force. The stamp makes contact with the paper and I can see drops of blood splatter onto the page around it like rain lashing a car windshield. I gotta' admit, it felt good. Really good. I throw the doctor back into his chair and pick up the file. I hold it up in front of the camera so they can quite clearly see in big green letters 'SANE'. With blood dripping off the bottom of the file, I release it from my hand and allow it to fall back onto the table, so that my face is visible on the camera once more. ::

"Doctor says I passed. See you at War Games."

:: And with that, I turn and take my leave. It wasn't exactly how I had envisioned this going down, but it was effective nonetheless. I make sure I tell the receptionist to check on the doctor as I leave.. and to lay off the jelly beans. ::