Blood runs thicker than water...but faith flows ever so shallow

The camera fades in upon the shadowy property of Waverly Hills Sanitarium. The cold winter wind has blown seemingly all the leaves from the trees and only the branches moan in the chilling breeze. Lightning flashes in the background as the camera nears the entrance to the grand building.

Once inside, cobwebs decorate the building so plentifully and a heavy dust has fallen upon the floor, for it has been some time since anyone has inhabited the building. As the camera surveys the foyer we catch a glimpse of a ghastly figure darting down one of the halls. Damning himself, the cameraman’s curiosity must be appeased as he follows the hallway in which the figure departed. The hallway is the long hallway down to the banquet room. Not a single door lies between him and the banquet hall, just the long, dark hallway that seems to never end.
Slowly he begins trekking down the hall, constantly checking his surroundings and behind him as well. The door to the banquet hall slowly closes shut and the sound echoes down the hall loudly. The cameraman stops for a moment unsure if he will continue down the hall or not, for he is midways. For the longest time he looks from the door, to the end of the hallway from where he came. After several glances he decides to investigate further into the house and turns back. After about six or seven steps and dark shadows appears at the end of the hall. The shadow is shaped like that of a great hound or wolf with glowing red eyes that pierce through the darkness. It sits upon its haunches and just watches the cameraman. The camera has begun to shake as he cannot recall a time in which he has seen so many odd things in one night, especially since he neglected to look at the history of the short lives of the cameramen for Crimson Skull.

He takes a step towards the wolf shadow, but it growls menacingly, and the echoes make it appear as if the wolf is directly in front of him. So he decides to take a step back, but as he does the wolf takes a slow step forward. For each step he takes back, the wolf takes two. But once he pauses, the wolf does too. The wolf shadow seems to predict what he is about to do as it lunges in the air, the cameraman turns around and bursts in to a sprint. Knowing that the wolf is irrevocably faster than him, he still can’t go down without a fight. The distance between them would give him a good head’s start. He could see the door was just a few steps in front of him, but the heavy padding of the wolf’s feet were gaining on him. He gets to the door and tries the knob, it is locked. “Grand fucking day” he says aloud to himself as he turns around and sees the wolf leaping at him.

Just when the wolf is inches from him, the door opens behind him and he stumbles through, the wolf disappears in thin air as he falls into the dark room. The door closes slowly as he lies on the floor not knowing whether to urinate himself or pass out. But the extravagant beauty standing before him takes those thoughts away. Tamara stands by the door in her very provocative crimson dress that is split right to her voluptuous breasts, her raven hair rests upon her shoulders in sensual curls. The cameraman is taken in by her extravagance and completely forgets the reason that he was even there in the first place.

Ah, now my guest shows his face.

Well, the beauty was too good to be true. Here he was, the big fucking evil himself. The cameraman knew he more than likely would not be walking out of here alive, or leaving this room alive at least.

Do not fret, dear friend. I know what business brings you hear. I’ve grown accustomed to the modern technology and the constant need for hearing combatants thoughts constantly. Please, do not fear to do your job here. I mean you no harm. This place is just teaming with dark thoughts and shadows of yesteryears.

The camera finally spins around and we see the titan that is Crimson Skull sitting upon a throne, which appears to be made out of human skulls. If it wasn’t human, then it was an insanely good impression. His lengthy right leg was crossed over his equally lengthy left leg and his elbow rested upon the armrests of the throne. His posture was that of relaxation and thoughtfulness. Surely even in his domineering presence, he meant what he said that he meant the cameraman no harm. Skull begins to chuckle, as if hearing what the cameraman is thinking. Wouldn’t be surprising.

I grow tired of this nuisance that is Tiffany Starr. The constant spewing of her ignorant mouth jabs at my patience and my nerve...

I see that the pity I took upon you has gotten you nowhere in your stupidity. Wise would have been the decision to keep that harlot mouth of yours closed, but instead your mouth remains open...just like other appendages to your body.

If quantity trumped quality, this match would be yours...but you ever-so short and pointless segments become very tedious after so much of a time. In just this one match, I haven't even faced you and I grow tired of your voice.

You claim you know me...but you know nothing of the sort...your fragile mind could not possibly fathom the knowledge I have attained in my tenure inside and outside the ring...and that same fragile mind could not possibly wire itself to understand the actions or the thoughts of Crimson Skull...let me show you, dear girl how you become to know an opponent.

Skull nods towards Tamara who exits the screen's view momentarily to return with a sealed document. Skull turns the document towards the camera.

You pride yourself on your education, Miss Starr...but I painfully notice that your grammar lacks such an education as displayed here with your proof of completion of a doctorate's degree. Quite colorful I must say...I'm sure it's one of your favorite things about it...colors are such a marvelous subject for the lame of thought like yourself, are they not Miss Starr?

You appear to have been quite the intelligent child, although I faintly recognize the stench of some poor yet pretty girl who barely made amends to pass most of her classes throughout her standardized school career, wearing short skirts, tight pants, or lower cut blouses to catch the eyes of those teachers who enjoyed the fairer sex...As for your collegian career, I'm sure it was quite hard keeping out of those many professor's spouses watchful eyes to make sure their marriages stayed in tact while your records of your grades stayed quite impressive.

You might have had success in other federations, but that matters not. What matters is your first true test in NLWF, and that is facing me. Although I am quite the new blood here, my sheer presence is enough to administer my veteran ability to trump your insignificance.

You have made all the many mistakes my victims have in the past. You wear your personal life upon your sleeve, and you announce all of your weakness to the world...your neck injury in the past...your darker moments of weakness in your life like being raped...the loss of your poor mother...and most importantly your child...

Your threats mean nothing to me...perhaps if your child's safety were at stake it might provoke you to do better in this match...it is doubtful...even if you were provoked to raise your talent level, it would still not help your cause. My defeat in this match is of purest fiction...just like the life you have led all these admiring fans of the NLWF to believe you've lived. It's time for the truth Tiffany....tell them of how your days as a two-bit whore have been your entire life since your bosom had bloomed beyond training bras...tell them of how you really were placed in this business. As the addict girlfriend of some talentless jobber who impregnated you. Your career would rival his, and you would find success, but only to feed the mouth of your child. That poor child...to be raised by such an unfit mother as yourself...never home to show him care...but when you are, you look at him with anger...jealousy...

For this child is innocent, something you haven't felt in a long time, have you Tiffany? The taint of darkness has shrouded your life for as long as you can remember, has it not?

You find anger at this child, for he ruined your free life, did he not?

Why don't you let someone relieve you of this insignificant drone you have bore onto this world. The title of loving mother doesn't fit you as well as your lifestyle suggests.

Skull reaches the document back to Tamara as she leaves the screen once more. Skull reaches to his side and ignites a lighter to let the flame flicker and dance in front of our screen.

You see Tiffany, you are a lot like this flame. In the dark of night you burn bright, but in the daytime, you are barely noticed...and in the blink of an eye...

Skull blows the flame out.

Like your career, it can end in an instant...

He ignites it once more.

Most see a flame as a symbol of evil, of destruction, of an end....I however believe it to be a symbol of change, a symbol of life, a new beginning. Through flames brought me my new life, which I have enjoyed considerably more than I would had my mother remained living. Her poor view on happiness being greater than wealth was what put us in the position that would one day take her life and change mine forever. It was my father who taught me that through intelligence anything was quite possible...you however were not blessed with such a luxury as a fully operational brain...

A pity it is to see such a young mind gone to waste, a pity to see such a bright young soul inside your child with such an unfit mother.

Tamara enters the screen's view once more, she has a picture in hand.

Now, this would be the precious item in conversation, your son. You have threatened me greatly if I ever brought your son into this, but you insulted me highly whenever you assumed you could defeat me.

Just a quick lesson for you, little girl. I've been in this game long before you were on your back, legs spread for all the little boys in high school, college, and now locker room.

There is no taking me to hell. I AM Hell. If you haven't noticed, I stay there. My own personal hell is far worse than the purgatory your beliefs have taught you to fear. I can show you more fearsome things than anything you've thought possible.

There is no killing me, and there will be nothing of me dying. That happened 34 years ago.

And there is nothing that you have accomplished, seen, or been a part of in your small career that I haven't completed tenfold. I am a completely different league of talent than you are, my dear. You'll see that soon enough though.

As for the boy...

Skull holds the lighter which is still ignited up to the photo of Tiffany's son, which begins to engulf in a flame.

He's about to have his first dance with the Devil.

The picture falls to the ground has Skull arises from his throne and walks off camera. Tamara stands there watching the photo burn on the ground until it turns to a pile of ashes. She slowly looks up from the crumpled photo and smiles at the camera.

As my husband goes to visit your son, Tiffany...He has left me to speak for my own, seeing as you opened your big mouth and brought me into this fight. You see, I can hold my own against you, and I'm definitely flattered by all those things you've said to me.

I'm not worried however. Victor has faced more serious threats than you before many times, and usually hasn't even broken a sweat. You're but another stepping stone on the path to glory here in NLWF, something that won't take very long for him to achieve once more. There are bigger and better things to worry about than some punk rock slut who thinks she can wrestle.

Consider what Victor and I are going to do to you a late Mother's Day present....

But, Tiffany...remember this one thing...

Fear the Reaper....

Tamara's maniacal laughter echoes in this building as the camera goes to static and then fades to black.