Christmas Yet To Come

[Deleted]

~# Prologue #~

Christmas; the ultimate fictional tale.

The virgin birth of the savior of this world occurred in a stable. The married mother-to-be explained that her pregnancy was an immaculate conception to her husband, who believed her. They travelled miles upon miles to Jerusalem where the child's birth took place. This birth saw wise men gathering together to give the baby gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

This child then grew up to walk on water, feed thousands of people with just five loaves of bread and two fish, healed hundreds of people with his bare hands, turned water into wine, was crucified for impersonating a deity and then, three days later, rose from the dead.

There are people out there that actually believe those things happened. Human beings with active brain-cells think one man did impossible things his entire life, including before he was born by even cheating "original sin".

We celebrate these tales by putting up fir trees and buying each other iPads, televisions and other ludicrously expensive items.

This is "Christmas".

Is this what your "lord and savior" envisaged when he sacrificed himself for you all? A society that takes a religious holiday and turns it into a facade to afford its own benefits? A world full of materialistic people who are more excited about what they get as a gift than celebrating the birth of a man who performed miracles?

Of the people who even celebrate Christmas, how many of them actually believe in these ridiculous fables? A small fraction I'd care to guess.

There are approximately 2 billion "Christians" on this planet. There are more than 2 billion people who celebrate Christmas. Of those approximately 2 billion "Christians", a fair portion of them are non-practicing and I believe even fewer of them have even read anything contained within their holy book, The Bible.

A religious holiday? No, a materialistic joke.

Christmas; the ultimate self-sufficing facade.

~# The Doting Father #~

Malibu, California: not exactly the most Christmas-y of locations but it's where I want to spend mine this year.

I haven't seen my son in far too long.

It's not been due to a lack of effort on my part. I've tried to get out here to see him as often as I can, but it never seems to work out. It's either Amelia is busy when I can see him or I'm busy when she can let me see him.

Maybe she's mad about the last time I saw him.

I did have sex with her and leave without so much as a goodbye.

Yeah, I'm a classless prick, but she knows that.

She knew that when she first decided to fuck me; knowing I was dating another woman. She knew that when she decided to keep the baby we accidently conceived. And she definitely knew that when she decided that she would sleep with me again.

I don't know what she expected. Maybe she thought I'd move to California to play happy families? Maybe she expected me to ask her to come to New York and move in with me? Maybe she just wants to have sex to hold it against me?

I don't know how that woman's mind works. I just know she's the mother of my child and, to have any kind of relationship with him, I have to have a relationship of sorts with her.

This is going to be a rough one.

I take a long deep breath as I pull up to her gigantic Malibu beach house in my rental car. I don't even know what the fuck this thing is, I just know it's black, it handles pretty well, it gets me from A to B and it's a lot cheaper than the sort of cars I usually pay out the nose for.

I turn off the ignition, remove the keys and put them into my pocket before sitting in the car for a few moments, composing myself for whatever lies inside.

I don't know whether I should be afraid or not. I guess I'm about to find out.

I open the car door and step out onto the concrete driveway before closing the door behind me. I take a few steps up the driveway and the doubts start to really hit home about whether or not this will work out.

The pessimist in me expects something will go wrong.

In all honesty, I can't know for sure, nobody ever can, but I can hope.

I ring the doorbell and await my fate.

It's nowhere near as bad I expect. Amelia answers the door and seems happy to see me. Happy enough anyway. I can feel an underlying tension on her part but she's a grown up about it and doesn't let it get in the way of a father seeing his son.

I hear Angelo attempting to run to see me so I lean down and he stumbles right into my arms as he reaches me.

He's gotten to be so big.

We seem to click immediately as we play for hours and hours but it seems like just minutes. The time just flies by in an instant.

Before I feel like I've even had the chance to say hello, it's almost 8PM. More than late enough for a 2 year old.

I take Angelo up to bed and tuck him in before he pulls me back and asks me to tell him a story, so I tell him a few wrestling stories that send him sailing off to sleep within seconds.

That leaves me and Amelia alone together in the living room. She retrieves a bottle of wine from the cabinet before a glass for each of us.

Alone with Amelia and a bottle of wine? That can't be a good combination.

She pours a glass for me, filling it almost to the rim, before pouring herself a matching glass. I take the glass and have a small sip of wine. I don't want to overdo it and end up doing something I'm going to regret.

Amelia, on the other hand, takes a deep long swig, almost downing the entire glass in one fell swoop.

"You shouldn't drink like that," the hypocritical alcoholic says, judgingly. "It's not good for you."

"And since when did you care about what was good for me?" She bites back with her sharp tongue, her words covered in venom. "You haven't for the last two years so there is no need to start now."

"It's almost Christmas, Amelia," I say calmly. "Can we please try and get along for Angelo's sake?"

"You're right," she says, coming to her senses. "You're absolutely right. We should try and make this work for Angelo's sake."

At that moment, she leans across and attempts to kiss me.

If this were a different time, a different Dante, I might have accepted. Reciprocated even.

For now, I just care about being with my son. I don't want to do anything that could put that at risk.

"Woah there," I say, cutting her off before she can plant one on me. "I think you're already a bit tipsy."

"Don't patronize me," she retorts with more bile directed at me. "I'm a grown woman who can make her own decisions, alcohol influenced or otherwise. You just don't want to kiss me. Why?"

"Why?" I let out a light chuckle. "We've been through a lot and I've made a lot of mistakes in the way I've handled our relationship. Last time I saw you, I slept with you knowing that it wasn't going to go anywhere because I didn't want to be with you. That was a mistake. Now, I'm going to make every attempt to be honest with you to keep our relationship on amicable ground for Angelo's sake."

"If you didn't want to be with me," she begins, seeming somewhat confused. "Why did you sleep with me?"

"Oh God," I respond, rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry Amelia, but do you not know me? We've done this dance before and it ended the same way then. I think you're an amazing woman, beautiful and smart, but I just don't feel that way about you. I'm sorry."

I reach out to rest my hand upon her shoulder but she quickly shrugs it off.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Don't touch me."

"But Amelia," I respond, attempting to reach out again. "Come on."

This time, she swipes at me, pushing my away as forcefully as she can manage.

"I said don't touch me," she repeats, far more aggressively this time. "What part of that do you not understand?"

"Alright," I retort, holding my hands up in a defensive manner. "Alright, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Yeah," she says, nodding and smiling in what is a clearly an ironic manner. "Of course you didn't mean to."

"I bare no ill will toward you, Amelia," I state. "You're the mother of my child and I do care about you..."

"Just not enough to attempt to make this into a real family," she snaps back at me. "I get it."

"Hey," I begin, leaning in close to her. "You know it's not as easy as that."

"Of course," she responds, moving away from me. "What with you still being in love with that Jessica girl..."

Jealousy City. Population: Amelia.

"What?" I struggle to deal with the implication that I'm still hung up on this girl. "What are you even talking about?"

"I'm talking about the woman you got engaged to after you first slept with me," she yells. "The woman you were so hung up on that you avoided the woman who was carrying your child for months."

"Amelia," I begin. "Jessica and I have not seen each other in almost two years. There is no communication of any sort. For all I know, she's married with two kids..."

"Or, better yet, maybe she's dead."

Well that was uncalled for.

"That didn't make you sound like a psycho ex-girlfriend at all," I say, rolling my eyes. "You don't know her, Amelia. Don't wish death upon people just because you view them as a hindrance to your 'happily ever after' dream."

"You're incredibly defensive of a woman you haven't spoken to in two years," she offers in a malevolent tone. "Kind of makes me wonder..."

"Wonder?" That's a flat out a lie if ever I heard one. "You seem like you have your thoughts about that entire situation set in stone. I'm telling you that I have had nothing to do with her for almost two years and you don't believe me, so what's the point in arguing with you about it? Believe it or don't believe it, it's your call, but don't try and make this into an issue and use my son against me."

"I'm not using your son against you," she says, genuinely believing the lies she spews. "I'm trying to convince you that the right thing to do is to be a family."

"And I'm telling you I can't do that," I counter. "This isn't all about what you want. This is about what's best for everyone. Don't you want what's best for everyone? Don't you even care what I want?"

"No, I don't," she says coldly. "You don't have parental rights past your name on his birth certificate. If you want to see him, we'll settle it in court. Until then, I think you should leave."

"Don't be ridiculous," I respond. "He's my son and I just want to spend Christmas with him. I don't want to fight you on this, I want things to be amiable between us..."

"You should have thought about that before you decided to treat me like a whore," she says. "Now leave."

"I didn't mean for that to happen the way it did," I state as a fact. "I got an important call and..."

"And you ran off to deal with more important things than your son and his mother," she says, cutting me off. "I got it. Since neither of us really matter at all to you, I would appreciate it if you just left."

"He's my son," I almost cry out. "Amelia, he's my son."

"Didn't you hear me the first time?" The most monotone of rhetorical retorts. "I don't care, I really don't care."

"But Amelia," I begin, almost pleading with her now. "He's my fucking son!"

She shoots me a glare, that glare where you can see she's about to reach her breaking point and, at that moment, I know I've lost this battle.

"Dante, just..." She pauses, clearly angered, and takes a breath to compose herself before continuing. "Just leave please."

Without saying another word, I tuck my tail between my legs and admit defeat.

Another Christmas, another failed attempt at being a good person.

Fuck this, I'm going home and getting drunk....

The Best In The World™

Was there ever any doubt?

Of course there was!

This entire FGA roster is full of doubting Thomas's and it's shameful. The reality is now clear to them all that AshTon were never going to be a match for this Infinite Empire. How could they be?

I don't think people are yet to quite comprehend exactly how dangerous we are. Individually, RJ Palmer and Tomoko Hanahara are both World Title-level competitors. Alone, I am above and beyond even that.

Bound together as a trio? There is literally no limit to what we are capable of. That's the scariest thing to me. I genuinely have no idea how far we can go.

We've got the ability, between us, to be the most dominant force in the history of professional wrestling. Together, we could overcome any combination of competitors that anyone wishes to lie before us.

People still doubt, some believe that we're going to be stopped.

That is just not the case.

Final Frontier will indeed be a finale for someone but I can guarantee you it won't be for a member of the Infinite Empire.

It will be one of your fan favorites from the pitiful team assembled by Dan Herrera. That's a promise and The Best In The World™ always keeps his promises.

It may take some time but, eventually, you'll realize that's not just a moniker.

I really am The Best In The World™.

~# Christmas Yet To Come #~

The flight back from LA was not one I particularly enjoyed.

I endeavoured to get as much of the journey done while asleep as possible. Turbulence put a quick end to any potential shut eye, so I decided I'd watch some Dan Herrera matches to get a better feel for his in-ring style.

At this point, my laptop decided it didn't want to work.

Getting more frustrated by the minute, I thought I'd just watch a good movie but they were suffering "technical difficulties" with the planes built in electronics.

So I said fuck it and ordered myself a bottle of Whiskey, drunk it all in about 5 minutes and fell into an unconscious state for the last hour or two of the flight before being woken up by an air stewardess upon landing at JFK. Her eyes were just as judging of me as every woman I have "wronged" throughout my life, just the cherry on top of a shit sundae.

Jack was on the other side of customs to pick me up, silent as ever which was exactly what I needed.

I got about an hour of sleep in the car ride into Manhattan before he dropped me off at my apartment. Stepping into my apartment felt akin to the most blissful hot shower after the coldest of winter days.

Relieved: the perfect way to describe how I felt.

I take a moment or two to take in the feel of home before I notice the blinking light on my phone informing me that I have one voicemail. I stroll across to the phone and, one press of a button later, the message plays.

"Hey faggot, it's RJ. Tomoko and I are in New York for the show and we decided you wanna meet us for a drink tonight. 9 at Heddy's in NYC somewhere. If you don't know it, Google it. See you there."

I look at the clock in my kitchen. It's midday, I have 9 hours before I have to meet them and all I want to do is sleep.

I remove my cell-phone from my pocket and set an alarm for 7. That gives me enough time to figure out where this place is, get ready and then get there.

For now? I head up the stairs, enter my bedroom and collapse onto the bed.

As my alarm rings, waking me at 7, I set it to snooze. 5 minutes later, we repeat the cycle. This continues two more times before I get sick of said cycle and turn off the alarm altogether before falling back to sleep.

It's 8:46 when I finally rise from my slumber feeling refreshed and re-energized.

I look to the time and don't give it a second thought. I'm still waking up, things aren't as obvious to me in this state as they should be. I get up and jump into the shower. It's a full 5 minutes before I finally realize I'm going to be late.

"Fuck!"

Yeah, I actually yell it aloud in the shower. Not really sure why but I do.

I quickly grab a towel and exit the shower, midway through my routine, dry myself off and start getting ready.

Getting ready includes Googling the location of this Heddy's place and calling Palmer's cell.

"You suck, Palmer," I say to his voicemail. "I'm gonna be late. Don't know how late. Overslept. Long flight. Explain later. Bye."

I rush through everything like they actually care whether I'm late or not.

They probably expected me to be.

It's irrelevant however as I'm out the door by 9:10 and on the subway by 9:20.

It's not a long journey. By the time I reach the bar, it's 9:40.

40 minutes late, by my standards, is impressive.

I enter the bar and quickly scan the place. It's not exactly the busiest of places but it's not the worst bar I've ever seen in my life.

I throw my eyes towards the bar and there are Tomoko and RJ, sat at the bar, drinking, looking miserable.

So glad I came out.

"Hey losers," I holler at them from across the room. They both turn to look toward me. I don't know if it's my accent or if they genuinely answer to the name 'losers' but I let out a chuckle either way. "What's good?"

"Everything until you showed up," RJ retorts with a sick burn. "You're late. Where have you been?"

"Awwwww," Tomoko cuts in. "You two are cute. Just like an old married couple."

We both shoot her a glare.

You know the glare, the 'shut up or die' glare.

Yeah, that one.

"Do you never check your voicemail?" I shake my head. "I left you a voicemail. Like the one you left me... faggot."

RJ doesn't look too impressed as I take up the stool next to him and order up a glass of whiskey.

Whiskey really has been my drink of choice of late.

It's not long before we're all being utterly bitter and horrible. Totally into that Christmas spirit.

Several minutes and several drinks later, I feel the urge to use the bathroom coming on. After announcing this to RJ and Tomoko, Palmer decides he wants to follow me.

Gay.

Actually, he decides to go out for a smoke but it's still pretty gay that he wants to leave when I do.

I head to the bathrooms, flipping the door open and heading inside when a flash of light blinds me, the sheer intensity of the blast almost destroys my retinas.

I'm sent tumbling down to the floor. It's a cold concrete floor, certainly not the floor I was standing on just a few moments ago.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask this as if an answer will come. Of course, it doesn't. I get to my feet and look around to take in my surroundings as my eyes begin to focus once again before I continue. "This clearly isn't the bar we were all at. There's no miserable people. In fact, there's nobody at all."

I laugh to myself, realising that the streets are completely abandoned. Not a person visible through the icy fog that engulfs the area.

As I attempt to gain my bearings, I feel my blood run cold as a hand lands upon my shoulder. I look up to see four long, thin, bony fingers stretching out from a long black cloak. The blood drains from my face as the weird reality of this all begins to settle in.

Is this a dream? Is this real life? Is this... death?

I swallow hard and slowly turn around to be greeted by the sight of a hooded figure carrying a scythe.

For once in my life, I don't know what to say.

If this is a dream, it's the most realistic dream I've ever dreamt.

I open my mouth but no words come out as the imposing hooded figure, who must be well over seven feet tall, seems to be staring at me. His hood masks his identity, all I can see is a black shadow where his face should be.

"I... Is this reality?" I stutter and stumble over my words, struggling to get anything out. "Is this real? Is it a dream? Am I... Am I dead?"

The figure does not respond. He just continues to stare a hole right through me.

"This is creeping me out now," I say, still a little intimidated by this figure. "So if you could just point me in the direction of the nearest bus station, I'll just..."

The figure raises his left hand up into the air, stunning me to silence in an instant.

I'm actually intimidated right now.

The figure extends his forefinger to point in the direction of a small flickering light.

"You want me to go over there?" I notion in the direction he is pointing and the figure slowly nods. "Alright, I guess that's where the bus station is."

I slowly walk through the cold, icy fog, making my way towards the light. Step by step, I get closer and can make out the shape of a small but cosy-looking family home, covered in Christmas lights and decorations.

I turn back to look towards the hooded figure who continues to point towards the house. I get the feeling he wants me to gaze inside the home.

I open the small front gate and step up the pathway leading to the front door. I cut off before I reach the front door and head down the side of the house, an overbearing feeling driving me in this direction. I slide down the side of the house and eventually come across a window toward the back of the house, which I look into the home through.

I'm greeted by the sight of a kitchen.

I can see a woman slaving over a Christmas dinner, preparing everything for later in the day. Suddenly, a small child of no more than 10 races into the kitchen and the woman turns around to greet him. He runs into her arms and she lifts him...

No...

No.

It can't be?

...Jessica?

It's Jessica, the love of my life. The woman I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with... but she's older, at least fifteen years older than when I last saw her.

As she talks to the child while holding him in her arms, another person joins them in the kitchen; an elderly gentleman, maybe 50 years of age or so. He grabs the child from her and hosts him up high in his right arm. They both exchange a few words with the youngster and they share a laugh, all three of them laughing.

As I do the math and put the pieces together, I realize what this is.

My worst fears are confirmed when she leans in and kisses the elderly man, a kiss that sends me collapsing straight down onto my knees. I feel myself losing breath from my lungs, my heart feels like it's about to explode.

What is this?

I lean against the wall of the home and stagger back out of the front gate before addressing the hooded figure.

"I don't know who the hell you are," I yell at him. "I don't know what the hell this is but I know I would like it to end. Now!"

The intimidation the figure held has disappeared through the rage that has consumed me. I can't feel the blooding racing through my veins at 1000 miles per hour.

The figure reaches out and places his hand upon my shoulder once again and another blinding flash of light appears. I'm smart enough to guard my eyes this time, keeping the light from damaging my vision.

I crash down to the floor once again. Only the time, it's different.

It's not cold and it's not concrete, it's wooden flooring. We're inside somewhere.

Before I even have a moment to address the hooded figure who brought me here, I hear footsteps coming down a flight of stairs.

I barely have a chance to realize what the noise is when I am greeted by the sight of.

"Angelo?" I stare at the twenty-something I recognize as my baby son because he has my eyebrows. "Angelo, is that you?"

He doesn't react to the sound of my voice. He can't hear me, so I doubt he can see me either.

"Am I dead?" I turn to ask the hooded figure. "Is this the afterlife? Watching all the people I love be happy without me?"

The figure points at Angelo whose face suggests he is far from happy. He stands staring at a bunch of what I assume are family photos. There are several of him with an elderly Amelia and other people I assume are family members on his mother's side.

It's about then that I notice something that begins to bother me: there are no photos of he and I.

"Angelo," I say to him, knowing that he can't hear me. "Why are there no photos of us? Why are there no photos of you with your father?"

Angelo smiles before heading across to the coffee table, upon which several letters rest. He flips through them, as if he's looking for something specific, stopping at one envelope.

He rips it open and removes the letter from inside, quickly reading it.

I walk across to glance at the letter but my eyes are drawn to just one thing.

The name on the letter: Angelo Karin.

"You changed your name?" That stings. "I know I'm not the greatest human being in the world but the name is my legacy and you're my son. I want you to take that name forward for generations to come."

As I plead with him about the name, he can't hear or see me, so it has no effect on him. He continues reading the letter and the realization of the situation hits me. If he changed his name, there is no way I could have been around for him because this is not something I would have allowed him to do.

As I turn back to face the hooded figure, another flash of light engulfs the entire room and we land outside once again.

This time, the entire ground is covered in inches of snow. I push myself up off the ground and I'm greeted by the sight of snow in every direction, as far as the eye can see.

The hooded figure heads in the direction of the only thing that is even remotely visible through the snow: an old building that looks something like a church. As we reach the build, we come up to a sign that reads "Rockford Springs Cemetery".

"Rockford Springs?" I read the words aloud out of sheer confusion. "Rockford Springs, Wyoming?"

The hooded figure beckons down to a pathway leading down towards a graveyard and a sense of dread overcomes me.

I generally don't like graveyards. It's just a bunch of rotting corpses deep underneath the ground, with gravestones reminding you of everything they left behind.

It's morbid, it's cold and it's filled with nothing but misery.

This graveyard, in particular, makes me feel incredibly uneasy.

I really do not like this place.

The hooded figure leads me down the snow-covered pathway, a pathway which seems to go winding on forever.

After what seems like an eternity of walking, the hooded figure stops and motions towards one specific gravestone. Immediately, I head across towards it without muttering a single word.

It's like something is drawing me towards it.

I lean down in front of the gravestone and wipe the snow off the cold stone to uncover the words beneath...

"Dante Anglais

21st April 1982-19th October 2029"

Any 'life' that was left in me disappears as I collapse onto my knees, not believing what I'm seeing.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, this can't be."

Tears begin to fill my eyes and the reason I had been carrying a sense of dread since the moment I arrived in this graveyard becomes clear to me. I turn to ask again but, before the words can even escape my lips, the hooded figure nods at me.

"How?" I ask this, not entirely sure that I want to know.

Do I wish to know how I die?

I don't get a chance to contemplate the thought as a vivid flash of images come into focus right in front of my eyes. I'm sitting in a bar, drinking alone. I'm older, ragged, looking like I haven't slept in weeks.

The images jump forward to me step into a car and then to me driving down the highway.

Inside the car, I take a swig from a small bottle of some kind of spirit. I can't make out what but it doesn't really matter.

Did I really allow myself to get to that point?

A moment later, the sound of a horn draws my attention as I spin the wheel to avoid an oncoming 18 wheeler. Spinning wildly out of control, I struggle against the steering wheel in an attempt to regain control of the vehicle but it's far too late as the car is sent, in a wild spin, flying off the edge of the highway and into concrete.

A cough and a splurge... I'm alive!

BOOM!

The car explodes. The entire vehicle is quickly engulfed in flames and my ultimate fate is sealed.

With that, the flash of images disappears. My question is answered but I sure don't feel any better about it.

The tears are flowing more than they were before I knew.

"But I..." I struggle to get the words out. "I didn't mean... I don't want..." I look to the hooded figure. "This... This isn't what I want."

The hooded figure does not move.

"I... I must be able to do something..." I begin. "I must be able to... to change all of this. Why else would you have shown me all of this?"

Again, the hooded figure does not move.

Thoughts race through my head like fast cars on a racetrack. Everything is a mess though. I can't compartmentalise everything.

It's all too much.

I grasp at my head as it feels like it's about to explode, my breath gets heavy and my heart crashes against my chest like it's about to burst clean out of my chest.

I can't focus as my vision becomes blurred and I...

I...

A blast of light brings me back to where I was before all of this took place: back to the bathroom I had gone to take a piss in.

It's at that moment I realize I didn't get to take that piss!

"Well that was weird," I mutter to myself as I shake my head and unzip my fly before relieving myself. "Ah, sweet relief."

This is all an elaborate attempt to brush it off like it was nothing.

But it wasn't nothing, it really wasn't...

(Still) The Best In The World™

When The Infinite Empire debuted in the FGA, everybody sat up and took notice. It was a moment that anyone who saw it live, who caught it on DVD or even illegally downloaded it, will never ever forget.

The whole roster was abuzz, simply asking questions: who? What? Why? How?

Then, within a week, the bloom wore off the rose. Most people quickly decided to write us off as loud mouthed individuals, claiming that we would be gone within a few weeks.

Fast forward to today and those same people are now deathly quiet, fearing that they might be next if they open their mouths too wide. That level of fear cannot be manufactured, it can only occur naturally, and it has consumed the FGA locker-room. Only a handful of people will even mention our names, much less step into the ring with us. All this built up within such a short space of time demonstrates just how legitimate we are.

When all of this started back at Capital Combat, I didn't truly know what to expect. I knew we'd draw attention but I didn't know how long we'd have to tear this place apart before someone had the guts to step up and oppose us. Would it be days? Would it be weeks? Would it be months?

I didn't care, I just knew we were going to make ourselves heard and, if nobody would willingly listen, we would just get that much louder.

Dan Herrera was the first within days.

We were loud enough to draw the attentions of one of the most respected competitors in the company. A former FGA World Champion was the first to face up to us. Immediately, we were given the chance to gain more exposure than any other group or superstar within the FGA had ever had within such a short period of time.

To this date, we have not wasted a moment of it and things will continue in that fashion come Final Frontier.

But everyone with half a brain-cell knows, by now, that we can't be stopped.

Speaking of lacking half a brain-cell, if I was Captain FGA, I damn sure wouldn't trust Cindy Parker. It's not like she's really given Dan much of a reason to trust her, is it? Jump back to Capital Combat and Dan Herrera was on the receiving end of an unwarranted ass kicking. Cindy would have you believe that this was all just frustration, a small lapse in the middle of a ferocious battle. Truth is, I know an untrustworthy lying bitch when I see one and Cindy? She's a dime a dozen.

Everyone knows a Cindy Parker: easy, naive, arrogant and, most crucially, deluded.

When pushed to her breaking point at Capital Combat, she snapped. I don't know whether she genuinely believes that wasn't a sign of things to come or that the same thing won't happen at Final Frontier because she worked "really hard at it". That's not how life works Cindy. Once we reach our breaking point, we need to step away from whatever it is that drives us in-fucking-sane. Repeating the same things that got you into that situation in the first place aren't going to help.

Hey, look at me playing psychologist over here. Being all friendly and helpful.

It's not a facade, I would genuinely prefer not to have Cindy Parker in this match because it just makes things that much easier for us.

If you're the 3 in a 3 on 2, it's always better than 3 on 3. I guess with Cindy being as unstable as she is at the minute, it could become a 4 on 2.

Heck, with her even out there, it misleads the audience.

It's almost like Team FGA decided it would be a good idea to tie a lead anchor to its ankle in an attempt to drag itself down.

Yeah Cindy, I'm calling you fat. The fuck are you gonna do about it?

You're just a nuisance to Team FGA in the end, a shadow of doubt immediately cast upon the proceedings and we are just starting with the nut-jobs being more of a hindrance than a help.

If Cindy Parker is unstable, Cordelia Stevenson is a complete fucking lunatic.

Having suffered the ignominy of losing to Jimmy Page, Cordy just flew right off a cliff. I saw her in a straight jacket being rolled into the arena all Hannibal lector-like once. Pretty scary stuff. I know she'd try and have you believe otherwise but I know she's not dealt with those demons yet. Thoughts of Jimmy Page are still lingering around her like a bad smell. She just can't shake it off no matter how hard she tries.

You could see it in her promo for the match with Johnny Karma, she was talking about Jimmy Page, about the World Title, about how she needed that win. No mention of the Infinite Empire or the big challenge in front of her at Final Frontier. She was too busy sulking over her defeat at Capital Combat.

I took that quite personally, Cordy.

That's a level of ignorance I can't let slide. It's stupid, Cordelia, because you know what I'm capable of and you over-look me on the basis that you feel shunned about a World Title that you feel you deserve.

If everyone got what they felt they deserved, everyone would be World Champion.

You did not deserve to be World Champion which is why you did not win.

Get the fuck over it and move on, you whiney cunt, because this is just pathetic.

It's that sort of lack of focus on this contest that has me continuing to doubt that this FGA team has any level of cohesion within its ranks and it also has me questioning Dan Herrera's judgement regarding his choice of accomplices.

Why choose to bring two emotionally and mentally unstable women into war?

It just doesn't make any sense to me. In fact, I almost feel bad that we've already been handed such a grand head-start. No matter how talented Sex Sells believe themselves to be, neither of them are truly focused on this match. Team FGA are at a handicap because of Dan Herrera's poor decision making.

I know I said I almost feel bad at having such a head-start but that doesn't mean I have a problem with taking advantage of it and I will when I use my boot to crush Cordy's skull into the canvas over and over and over again and I'll enjoy every last second of it.

I guess that leaves but one, the man who ultimately brought this all together: Mr. FGA himself, Dan Herrera.

Dan Herrera stands atop the peak of the FGA mountain, defender of the kingdom.

How does that feel Dan?

How does it feel to lead a false army into battle? How does it feel to be opposing the greatest empire to have ever existed? How are you possibly going to compete in this war?

I don't think you understand exactly what is in store for you at Final Frontier.

You bore witness to the Infinite Empire at half power. We overcame talentless hacks like AshTon and Noelle Smith with little to no effort at all. Not only did we overcome them, we simply decimated them.

If that was merely a fraction of our talent, what happens when you face it all?

You get destroyed, Dan. You get decimated, flattened, killed. You do not win, you do not draw, you do not lose, you do not survive. Quite simply put, you reach the end. The end of your career, the end of your life, the end of you.

Everything culminates here, Dan. The bad decisions you've made throughout your life and your career have led you here to face me. That is how karma gets you, by leading you to meet your maker.

I questioned your sanity when it came to believing you could stand against us. Now I'm starting to realize it wasn't a choice. Fate brought you here. You could have stayed away on that first DVD taping but the result would still have led you here. This was your destiny, Dan; I am your destiny.

I am your Final Frontier.

This is what I've really been waiting for. This is what everyone has been waiting for.

The two front-men for this whole war will finally come to blows.

Are you excited, Dan? Can you not wait to get your hands on me? Is it playing over and over in your mind how you're going to beat me down and teach me a lesson?

Sorry Dan, reality is calling and it's going to greet you with my fist connecting with your jaw.

Reality can be a bitch, huh?

I guess it doesn't matter to you, though. You don't seem to live in our reality as you suffer your delusions of grandeur.

The pain people who live with delusions of grandeur suffer is unbearable. In this case, the belief that he can bring the Infinite Empire down drives Dan Herrera forward towards this Final Frontier.

Daniel, you truly believe yourself to be the savior of the FGA, its own personal Jesus. I am here to tell you that Jesus isn't real. This delusion of yours will soon become a nightmare and I, Dante Anglais, will bring infinite suffering down upon you.

After all, this is the word of the Infinite God.