The Key That Breaks The Lock.

Dear diary...

Tonight was not a good night. Danny said his dad came home today. He was quiet and sullen and wouldn't open up to me but there was something in his eyes I didn't like. Why is it every time that man comes around now, something behind Danny's eyes goes away? It frightens me. But... then there was an incident at the gym. Two of the boys that always pick on Danny started getting on him about his father being a drunk. They shoved him and made fun of him. I felt so helpless. But then he moved faster than anyone I've ever seen. I know that I love Danny. But I've never seen anyone capable of such... rage. I don't feel good. I'll keep updating this entry tomorrow.

Downfall: If we are who we are and our choices define us, Warpath's past has always been someone who mirrors mine. For quite some time Warpath was almost as ruthless as I was, almost as uncaring... almost. For him there were lines he wouldn't cross, things he wouldn't do to ensure his immortality. But at his core, back when we were competing hard against each other for the first time back in 2003 I truly believed that Warpath was someone who would do anything to get ahead. And over time, even after I put him out, I watched him, closely. Even after I was gone, I watched him in the IEW and his rise to the World Championship and saw his attitude soften, his methods become less severe, his attitude become more reactionary in some ways and relaxed in others. I've seen Warpath relax his guard. I've seen Warpath put on the defensive. I've seen Warpath, who in 2007 put the longest reigning competitively active World Champion in IEW history out on his ass, spend 3 years chasing that title. 3 YEARS. Three roller-coaster, up and down years. He went from beating me in a match that I created specifically for the purpose of eclipsing the House of Pain to... nothing. To feuding with Christian Stylez over the United, read third-tier championship. He entered a tournament to crown a number one contender and I won't judge, he did get past some of the toughest competition despite hard circumstances and double booking. But when it all shook out and he faced Jason Twisted, he could only come out with half a win and half a title. And afterwards? He spent, five, six months chasing Matt Rison in a Red Hood costume, a scrawny, puerile parody of what I was supposed to be. It wasn't the victories or losses I was watching at this time, though... it was the Warpath he was becoming. The man who once defined ruthless intensity and uncaring brutish power was always on the defensive. The man who once beat Khrystal Walker within an inch of her life and left her tied up in a warehouse was forced on a weekly basis to respond to childish insults about him being boring, being too overconfident and being behind the times and rather than just say "fuck what you think", he actually seemed to care about what the peasants were saying. What happened there, Warpath? What happened to the man you were supposed to become? Had you spent too much time erasing the pencil lines of who you were, to the point that you couldn't see what you would have said once? See, the one thing I want to impress on you is this, Warpath. This ongoing battle between you and my Inner Circle mates, you may think that it's solely because of a thirst for power or gold. But it's not. It's always been in it's purest form you facing me. You had many battles with Jason Twisted, my protege but in the end, you were facing what some people saw as my lasting legacy, and that's what Jason was holding on to, whether he liked it or not. Even as you and Jason went fist to fist, it was always a continuation of that blood feud you and I had in the summer of '07. And it was always meant that way because you and I are the rivals that defined each other, that shaped each other's experience.

(He turns a page, and looks up into the camera, eyes piercing, intense, cold.)

Downfall: Because we are who we are. And while I once believed that entailed that we were ruthless, destructive and dangerous men, there's more to it than that, as I've seen over the years watching you since. I've seen everything there is to know about you while my time on the independent circuits and in the XWF and EHWF you only know second hand. Hell, I know trivial matters like how you harbor some sentimentality towards your extended family and sent them money when they fell on hard times. I know who you are and what you've become from the road you took and your responses to people's criticism. And honestly, Warpath, it's made me see you in a much different light. See Warpath, in life there are fucked up people, and there are those that are relatively well adjusted. And we've seen so much of your backstory come to light. Orphaned as a little boy, forced to survive on the streets, made your way to Mexico where you pickpocketed and stole to survive until you were recruited by a wrestling promoter who saw something in you and started training a young skinny boy to become a champion. But you were still that little skinny 15-year old kid... you weren't the trained and honed and dedicated athlete I was by that age. But you were someone with a will that couldn't be matched and you made yourself stronger. Despite everything in your life and all the bad things you had to do to get your foot in the door you are not a bad, fucked up person. You had your code of morality. Perhaps it got a little shaded at times, but you weren't defined by that. You were a child on the streets that made sure that nobody would ever see you as small and weak again. But then you come to me... and I had everything going for me. I wasn't homeless.

(Expansively, he waves his arms around him, encompassing the room, the house, the memories therein of him growing up.)

Downfall: I had a woman who tried to raise me as her son when my father was on the road and my mother was gone, I had a good suburban family life! But that isn't what shaped me. I am who I was born to be, the legacy imprinted in my blood by DNA wrote my diary for me in ink that won't wash away. I was corrupt from the day I was born and as I grew older, and I grew, myself from a skinny little kid that would NOT be ignored, I knew deep in the pit of my soul a burning hatred for all those kids who had things I would not. But my point is this. I am a fucked up person, Warpath. I embrace that, I revel in it. It's always been about getting ahead with me. If it would get me ahead of the pack I'd beat my own mother with a broken pool cue until her retinas detached, but I digress... you and I are dichotomous for that simple reason. That for everything you grew up with in your youth, you had every reason to grow into the ruthless person I am, one with absolutely no code... but you didn't. And I wonder, is that a manner of hiding who you are as Tommy Contour does, allowing it to bubble to the surface every once in a while? Or were you always made of weaker stuff and the ruthless facade was just a paper mask drawn in crayon? Have we ever seen the real Warpath? You say, we're seeing him now. You say, that right now you are fighting as if every last second of your career depends on it, that every match could be your last so you can't afford the code anymore. So maybe the gloves are off again...

(He chuckles darkly.)

Downfall: So you say. Time will tell if you're on my level. But I have to say it, Warpath... as I see you, the real you... you're not on the same level. Want to know how I can say that? Because fucked up people can deal when shit goes down in their life. Fucked up people have the advantage of wading through any adversity possible, to the point where well-adjusted and centered people are taken off their game, some are even broken. And you may think that your list of victories and impressive feats gives you an unbreakable aura... but it doesn't. Remember who you're talking to. I've been there to see you at your lowest moments. In 2003, Jason Twisted and I put you out of the IEA by taking you from the top of the ring crashing through a table in the aisle and gave you a career threatening injury. I saw what you went through afterwards, Warpath. And you've always seen it as your sign of strength, that after being decimated like that that you picked yourself up and trained yourself to walk again. But you weren't the same man. You were a shell of yourself. In 2005, a year before your comeback and surprising alliance with me, you tried to come back but the Warpath we got was a weak, doddering and addled fool. You were sad, humbled... easily crumbled. That is what happens to someone who is centered when their world falls around them. You broke, Warpath... and for a while, you weren't the same. But you know what made you start to pull yourself around? Me. You saw the success I was having and it ignited a fire under you. By your own words you came back because all those months of rehab and rebuilding your muscles, you did so with the mind to give me one thing... gratitude. For bringing you back to the man you were. And then you stood by my side and pretended to be a member of the Inner Circle. But I was watching, Warpath, and I saw your eyes. They were gauging me all that time and they saw the strength. You couldn't have that so when the war began, you did everything you could to tear me down. And a war it was. I beat you. I left you poisoned and unconscious... you came back. I smashed your head with a damn shovel and buried you alive... you came back! Finally it became apparent that the only way to settle this was with our careers on the line and it was then that you finally beat me, sent me sailing down to the bottom in defeat and humilation. But I never broke, Warpath. I rode through the humiliation, I swallowed that bitter pill and I kept wrestling, even when people whispered about me. I was a king, dammit. A desposed, nationless king without his servants, for the first time but by god I never fucking broke, YOU DIDN'T HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BREAK ME!!

(His voice is rising like a hurricane wind, his eyes are blazing coals set inside his face. Each last word is a whipcrack of stentorian thunder.)

Downfall: Because victories, wins and losses, even careers as they're measured by the time spent in one promotion, they're fleeting... but real life, those are different. A loss may not break a man down and make him question his entire nature, but then that's not what makes a man indomitable. Your will carried you through rehab and learning to walk again, your will carried you through double bookings and beating World champions and finally winning the World championship on your own. But it failed you just as often because you don't know how to deal when the shit really goes down. When the world gets dirty and plays rough, for so long you just sat back and criticized it. When Jessica Matheson choked you out, you snarled about her tactics. When Hiro Sasuke, Nate Shaw, Spiral all got by you via technicality, you let them go. When Matt Rison of all people put a red mask over your head and embarrassed you, you had to either play dumb and act like you never knew what the deal was about him or face more ridicule. That's not who Warpath was once, but you have always been struggling to reconcile the two in some fundamental way, wondering just how much to hold back. And now that you're not holding back anymore... why? Was it some pep talk given to you by an old lady at a diner? Or was it because you saw me looming in your rear view mirror, and once again after you'd broken you used me as motivation to pick yourself back up! See Warpath, once again we come back from your vacation post-IEW and see you a broken, much different man. But are you the Warpath that put me out in 2007, or are you the weakling of 2005, before my success ignited that fire once again? You've been living almost like a homeless man again, shamed and hiding from the world almost like a little cocoon because you find yourself at fault for the death of the IEW. Because you, as her World Champion, were responsible for righting the ship and you feel like you failed it. That cut you deeper than any defeat by Jessica Matheson because it once again forced you to question who you are. And I know you, Warpath. I know you, like you did in 2003 before the catalyst of being critically injured, BY ME, made you look inside yourself. You were thinking about hanging it up. Oh, don't try and deny that was a thought that went through your head. You'd already quit wrestling several times before. In 2003, in the fall, even though you entered that year as a nearly undefeated Tag Team Champion, you left wrestling to pursue managing. You'd retired, you said, because you'd accomplished everything you set out to do in wrestling. Really, Warpath? You were satisfied with your one Extreme and Tag Title reigns and few minor belts in places nobody gave a crap about? At an age of not even 30 yet, you were then content to step back and manage a man named Saturnine, who burned like a Roman candle for three months before fizzling out and never being heard from again? You were, weren't you. You were content to let that be enough, you were CONTENT with what you had... until Jason and I broke you. And you had to go through the pain. And you saw, all the benefits I reaped in your absence. How can you console that man with any version of yourself, Warpath, the man who was willing to walk away from the business because he'd done enough? If you did it once, stands to reason you'd do it again.

(He turns back to the diary, flipping through a few pages.)

Downfall: But then that's who you are. A man who's always having to reconcile what was with what is with what will be. A centered man who is always trying to make the world fit like a jigsaw puzzle. Ordered, in your own way. Even though you often put your foot in your mouth you try to make it fit. I even seem to recall a time you said to Jason Twisted that he was defined by his lust to do anything to hold on to the World Title and his obsession with being the champion. But you, by contrast, never needed the World Title to validate yourself. Really, Warpath? It seems to me that now that you're the last possessor of it, you've changed your tune, because you're still carrying the IEW Title around with you even now. I thought the belt didn't define the man, Warpath, so what are you hanging on to? Is it pride, or is that a cross you're bearing to remind people, so that when some asshole uses the old chestnut of "you must have been a shitty World champion since the IEW closed with you in the main event" you can deflect it by saying it already. But that belt did define you... or rather, your chase for it did. All that promise, all the buildup of over two years to get back to it, and your first acts with it fell short of that established mark. But I won't begrudge you that, I'm sure that little lady was quite a toughie. Still, the point is that when it all comes down to it, you are defined by your quest for the big gold. As we all are. I'm in this business to be the World Champion and you're goddamned right I'm obsessed with getting it. Does that mean a belt defines me, no! It means that I'm taking my rightful place on the top of the mountain. For so long, Warpath, while you were on the hunt for the World Title, you played yourself up as equal because you were the man everyone was gunning for. A victory over Warpath would show you were one of the big dogs, and so pretty much every newbie to come through the doors was put against you to test their mettle. But did that make you the man? Not at all. You were second rate. You never became the man like beating me should have made you, and I'd love to see you try to dispute that. Yes, it got you victories, but smacking down every loudmouthed punk who wanted to beat you by pointing a finger in your face and calling you arrogant doesn't have the same ring as being the man. All that time, Jason Twisted sat on top and reaped the benefits of your leftovers, because there was scarcely anyone you could beat that he couldn't. See, Warpath, in a way you were still doing my work for me, by proxy. But you weren't the same when I was gone, and I can admit it, in my other tenures in smaller promotions, I never achieved my potential. Because I never had someone like you to drive me.

(He smiles as he reads a few of the words. He's getting to the last page now. The climax intrigues him.)

Downfall: But even in this, we were meant to clash, because this newfound fire you've got burning in you, I feel it too. Hotter and brighter than ever, burning white hot and molten in my heart. Like you, this is a must win situation, Warpath. For you, and definitely for me. We're two aged fighters on a comeback trail, and some may even say that we're two sides of the same coin. You, broke and penniless and learning how to be this Wrecking Machine, this Proprietor of Violence like you once were, and me, body scarred and pitted, making my return to big-time wrestling promotions after half a decade away. You and I were made to be the upper crust of this federation, no matter what. You defined yourself for so long by how you reacted to my darker tendencies, and it could be said that when I went missing from the IEW that that's what blunted your edge. Because how could you keep sharp without my stone to constantly sharpen yourself against? Being honest here. You and I were made to be the ultimate rivals, but there can only be one person that comes out ahead in the end. And I know, you had the last laugh in the IEW.

(His head snaps up, and his fingers close into claws around the diary, as his lips split into a snarl.)

Downfall: You took something from me, a long time ago, Warpath. And now, like the curse of Davey Jones, six years later I've emerged from the depths to take it back. This is not a skirmish for a lower title. This is not a grudge match. THIS IS WAR, motherfucker! And it's a war by god I'll win. You think that you've showcased what makes you stronger this time around, that you're ready to pull off those gloves and show these fuckers how to really get it done? Well I'm finally- FINALLY ready to step up to the plate and smack you out of the park. I've seen you falter, and fall, and break. I've done it with my own hands, but this time I'm just not gonna be satisfied with the way it all shook out when me and Twisted jumped you. This time I'm going to hand you another defeat, another setback that really makes you question yourself. And when that's done, you'll see my success again and be motivated to rebuild, yet again. Because that is what I want. You and I are going to be the cornerstones of TWF, Warpath, that's just natural. And when comes time for a World Champ to be declared I completely expect you to be standing across the ring from me then. But that's not what this is. This match, you versus me, on the second show. Now that we've got our respective feet in the door and shown what we're all about it's time for you and me to SET THIS FUCKING PLACE ON FIRE. We are going to give birth to this place, I know that. Our efforts are going to breathe life, give a soul, set the bar for "The Wrestling Federation". Every single person who sees the output of Downfall versus Warpath this week is going to be blown away... but when it comes to you versus me, we're going to lock eyes in that ring. You're going to stare right into the eyes of the man who's been dreaming, thinking, envisioning every moment of this confrontation for FIVE FUCKING YEARS. You are going to stare into the eyes of the man who put you in a coma and severely injured your body. You are going to stare into the eyes of the man who's seen you at your lowest, most feeble points, and who's cut right through all the contradictions of your puny, ordered little life. Nietzsche said, "Be careful when you battle monsters lest you become a monster, and when you gaze into the abyss, be wary, for the abyss gazes also into you." You are going to be staring right into that abyss... this blackened, fucked up and shattered thing I call a soul, and I swear to god you are going to blink first, Warpath. You're always the one who blinks.

(He finally gets to the last page. He remembers it well. It was the one she'd written just before their last night together. Michelle and he had spent that whole week together, but that one night, two nights before his departure... and yet, she'd come back. Why had she stuck with him so long, he wondered? Were they always destined to be this way, two moths circling a flickering candle-flame? Intrigued, and a little saddened, but unable to look away, he looked at the few tense sentences, no longer the girly, happy diary of a young girl. When she'd given him this journal a few days later she was a woman, a tormented, conflicted woman.)

August 30, 1996

Danny hit me tonight. Part of me can't do this anymore. He's always so cold and distant now until provoked and I never know what can set him off. I've never been so scared, but I can't abandon him. Why is he this way? All I wanted was for him to stay. He doesn't have to do this. He doesn't have to follow his father's dream. Or is it his, has it been his all along? That makes me so sad. But I can't turn away from him. May god have mercy on me, I love him so much, and even though he's going away, I'll always be there for him. I just wish I knew what he was going to be when he comes back. I miss my Danny. But this stranger with the ice-cold eyes and unsmiling lips has slowly stopped being him. He's chasing after something I don't know if he'll ever find. It hurts me so much, because at the beginning, the only thing we wanted to chase was each other. But that Danny has gone away through repeated interference from the ghosts of his father in his head. Whereever you are, Danny, if you read this, I hope you come back safe. Come back to me, Danny.

Love,

Michelle

(He softly closes the diary, and taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, hand resting on top of the book.)

Downfall: You may think that you have all the cards, Warpath. You may think that you haven't shown me the depths of what you're really capable of. That cuts both ways. You've never really seen what I can do shifted into the highest gear. You've been on the receiving end of my beatings, you've been the victim of me manipulating and cheating the system, but you've never felt the side of your cheek caving in under the full force of my boot. You've never felt the electricity running up my arm as my taped fists meet your skull. You've never seen the Beast, truly unleashed. That's not a nickname I came by lightly, Warpath. It was a name given to me by people who saw me for who I truly was, and this demon inside me is enough to wreck any machine, close down any proprietor's shop. This monster I am is strong enough to take your best and keep coming. I HAVE taken your best and I've never been put in a hospital bed, never been left a shell of a man inhabiting a trailer park going to the elderly for advice. I've seen you for what you are and now, you've handed me the keys to the kingdom.

(He replaces the strap around the diary, fitting the clasp, and he takes that small silver key, putting it in the lock. And, with a quick twist, he breaks the key off inside of it.)

Downfall: With my own two hands, I am going to break you. With my own two hands, I am going to come at you like nothing you've ever seen before in your life. Prepare yourself and dig in deep, Warpath. I want your best this week so that when I finally and irrevocably fuck you up everyone will see it for what is it, and what it always will be now. This is the new order. This is the way of things. This is who I am, and nothing, not even you can deflect that. The time has come, Warpath. Let the games begin.

(He stands, and walks out of the room, leaving that diary with it's key broken inside of the lock as a small, quiet memento of his passing.)