“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

[Kyle Travis]

::The room is dark. There is no light. There is no sound. There is nothing but the darkness.::

“In the beginning, there was nothing and then God said “Let there be light.”.”

::The lights suddenly come on to reveal a large silver screen. Standing in the ring is “the Once and Future King”, “the Canadian Legend” Kyle Travis. Travis is dressed in a pair of black pants and a navy blue short sleeved dress shirt. The crowbar, his signature weapon, the tool he has used for acts of carnage that have made his legacy, is slipped into his belt like a sword.::

::Travis paces a bit in front of the screen, running his hands through hair, sliding them over the back of his head and around back of his neck. His hands slide over his jaw and then cover his face. He slides his hands down his face.::

::The room darkens and the sound of a projector starting up can be heard. On the silver screen appears footage of the shelves in the trophy room of Kyle Travis where he keeps his replica championships.

“You know what, McBride, I tried. I honestly tried to show some people respect. I tried to turn over that new leaf because someone told me that I really should respect my opponent. And yet EVERY SINGLE time I do, EVERY TIME, I show ever the slightest bit of respect to my opponent, all I get back is them telling my how great they are and how much I suck. And yet, when I go on about how great I am, what I have accomplished, and who I am, I get nothing but the accusation that I am an egomaniac with delusions of grandeur, but the man who declares himself a god, to be an object of worship? No, that is clearly the epitome of a humble man.”

::Travis does not turn to look at the footage being aired. He keeps his eyes forward.::

“Like so many others, all you see is the gold; you do not see what it represents. To others, it is just me having an ego trip, a self-aggrandizing tribute to me. You just see it as a room with shiny bobbles. I thought you would see it for what it is; conquest. I confess myself disappointed McBride, I really do.”

“You to not see that every single championship on that wall represents a broken dream, a crushed hope and the suffering of another person I stepped on to get to where I am. You see the trinket, not the history in the item. I can’t bottle some rich kid’s screams like one would a firefly. I can’t but someone’s anger into a trophy case as if it were a bowling trophy. I can’t put someone’s unhinged mind into a plastic sleeve like a rare baseball card. But I can look at the UWA North American Championship and know that for all her rage and anger towards me, Jeszika Gautier was completely impotent. I can know that while you may be tugging her emotional strings, I was the loss that broke her. I can look at the NEW No Limits Championship and remember exactly why I left. I can look at the OWO World Championship and know what the moment I won it, I became an iconoclast.”

::The footage stops rolling, but the lights do not come back on.::

“I am not here to collect the abstract like a child playing make-believe, pretending I can mount someone’s suffering or a person’s screams on my wall. I collect an object that has a story, that has a history and has memory attached to it. Gods come and go, they fall out of worship, which is why you do not see people praying to Zeus, Odin, Thor or Ra these days. You, the god the Children of Nephilim give prayer to will fall to a force greater than yourself; history.”

“I make history. You have minions abduct people and act like you are the embodiment of the divine; an avatar. I carve a path of blood through wrestling. You are the footnote McBride. I, however, am immortal.”

::Travis stands in front of the screen, looking forward with those cold predatory eyes of his.::

“You think I fear some wannabe god running a group of backwoods rape folk with two Asian women and a couple of Samoans as the only named minions because they are nothing more that sheep?”

“No. I did not fear Dark Camelot when their leader threatened to end my career. I have not feared any man or woman I have ever stepped foot into the ring against and I am not about to start for a man who looks like he should be an extra in “Deliverance”.”

“Do you think I am scared that ONCE again, your hillbilly cult abducted yet ANOTHER person, which clearly seems to be the ONLY trick they actually know how to do right, and you are having them torture the person?”

::A smirk forms on his face, then quickly fades.::

“I am really not. The only thing I wonder about when I see that is why on God’s green earth someone would take one look at you, a guy who CLEARLY looks like he should be legally required to tell people when he moves into a neighborhood and is not allowed to live within 100 feet of a public school, park or playground, and sell you what I can only assume is the van you use to abduct people. The other thing I am wondering is why I didn’t hear “Dueling Banjos” in the background as you got all rapey on yet another captive. How many people do you have tied up in your home? And, seriously, how many of them are there because “they have a pretty mouth” and you want to make them “squeal like a pig”? I am just curious.”

“Seriously, how do you keep just abducting people? Should I just start calling America’s Most Wanted every time an abduction story comes on just on the basis that you probably grabbed that person for no reason other than you needed someone bound and gagged for a promo?”

“I don’t really care about your storytime or what you are about to order your cult to do to yet another person you kidnapped for whatever reason you keep kidnapping people. And really, you pick a random name, a name that means nothing to me when there are so many others out there like Jon-Boney Ramsey or Natalie Holloway, whose body was NEVER recovered, or the Lindbergh baby? Or should I just expect those people tied up in you house somewhere?”

::For a brief moment, Travis chuckles and allows a smile, but it quickly fades.::

“You accuse me of blasphemy? At Monday Night Mayhem, I am planning not only to blaspheme, but I am going to get sacrilegious.”

::Travis raises his arms like a preacher lifting his arms towards Heaven during a mass. He looks upward.::

“Bless me Father for I have sinned! I am very good at it and I am going to do it again and again!”

::He lowers his arms and looks down, facing forward.::

“Do you think I am afraid of the puppet master?”

“No.”

“Do you think I really expect you to bow to me?”

“No McBride, I do not expect you to kneel in supplication to me as your followers kneel to you. There are, however, other ways to bring a man, and even a god, to his knees and I will still count it as bowing to me.”

“Do you think your abducting Broderick Montgomery III has me all that concerned?”

“Honestly, I really do not care about Broderick Montgomery. He is not paying me. If he was then we would not be having this conversation, because the Children of Nephilim would no longer be a factor. And just because I feel the need, I would tell you exactly how I would do it.”

“The first target is your high priestess, Mikado.”

::Travis reaches behind him and pulls out what looks like one of the robes worn by the Children of Nephilim. He holds it up as if to display it.::

“You have so many people in nice robes that make such great disguises that it would almost be too easy to either get one made or even take out a minion who manages to fall behind or has to run an errand.”

::He casts the rob down, throwing it to the ground.::

“Maybe I break one of her arms, or a leg, or just collapse a lung so she cannot pray to her false god? There are options as to what I can do to her.”

“After that would be Bene Elohim, and again, those robes provide such a nice cover, but they would be a more hit and run tactic. Maybe take Sariel out by just dragging her under the ring and breaking an arm, or her neck. And then, I’d pick off the other two.”

“Then finally, it is you. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details, but it would probably end up on my wall. There would be blood, some fire, this crowbar, it’s really more a go with the flow improve sort of act of violence I think than one I could really plan. All I can say for certain is that a god will bleed.”

::Travis places a hand on the curve of his crowbar.::

“But as I said, Broderick in not paying me, and I trust you are not stupid enough to go after my family, because if you do I will flay Mikado alive with this crowbar and ram her stripped flesh down your throat until you choke on it. That, McBride, is not a threat but a promise. But I doubt we will come to that.”

::Slowly, “the Canadian Legend” slides his hand over the curve of his crowbar. He taps a finger against the dark metal.::

“Are you familiar with Norse mythology at all Joshua? All of Norse myth, everything seems to ultimately lead to an event known as Ragnarok, literally the end of the gods. See that’s the thing about the old Viking gods; they can be killed and they can die. Ancient Central American cultures like the Aztecs also believed that because the gods do not have blood, they must receive a daily blood sacrifice or they die. Some other cultures believe that if a god loses worshippers, then he loses his powers and may even die.”

“What happens to you if you lose your followers? What happens to the new god if one after another falls to another hand and they realize the one they worship is not a god, but a man? What happens when Ragnarok comes for you?”

::Travis allows himself a cruel smile.::

“What happens when I make a god bleed?”

::His smile quickly fades. Travis slides a hand over the curve of the crowbar, tapping it a bit. It is almost like a man holding a sword.::

“Do I think you are actually playing chess? Yes, in a sense that it was the easiest anology to use. You can say whatever you want about how no one knows what you are playing, but you are playing chess. Everything you do, every action you take, has a reason. Even the insane have a reason for doing something. The reason they do it may be completely out there, but there is always a reason. Chess is a mental game, checkers is not. You are playing mind games. Honestly, I really shouldn’t have to explain the analogy.”

::He draws the crowbar from his belt and looks at it. He starts to twist it back and forth in his hand.::

“The simple fact of the matter is even chaos is an endgame. Even anarchy, pain, destruction, and mayhem are all endgames. Pretty much anything that can be considered to be a goal in an endgame. I never said you had this great master plan, nor did I say that the UWA Championship was the endgame. However, I somehow do not see you refusing Aerynn if she gave you the title shot. Anything can be an endgame.”

“Just like anything said by a false prophet or a false god is considered rhetoric, a dogma for the masses to follow. You are the shepard to their sheep. It doesn’t matter what you say because they will follow every word you say. It is a story as old as religion itself. Or is this the part where you tell me you are the wolf leading the army of sheep?”

::The house lights start to dim, getting lower and bringing on the darkness. Travis steps back, slipping into the darkness.::

“So you showed me yet another person you abducted and are about to torture like it is supposed to impress me.”

::There is no light, only the darkness. There is no sound. There is only the voice of Kyle Travis, who remains unseen.::

“Why do I call myself a legend?”

::The projector starts up again as the lights start to come back up a bit. Images start to appear on the screen. As the start, “Carmina Burana”, the version by Carl Orff, is played.::

::A younger Kyle Travis, about fifteen years younger, leans against the ropes in a wrestling ring. His hair is shorter, and he is clean-shaven, he has yet to gain that predatory mindset and that look in his eyes, but it is no doubt still him. His tights are simpler, long tights with a Canadian maple leaf on the rear with “Kyle Travis” written across and a trapezoid on his groin with “KT” on it. In his hand, raised upward, is the CEW Cruiserweight Championship.::

::That same Kyle Travis, fifteen years younger, stands in a ring. He is not yet the man who dresses the part of the champion, not yet the man who will wear a suit, with no tie, or dress that business casual look to convey the image of a champion. He is dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt with the logo “i2K” written on the chest. He has the CEW Television and Tag Team Championships over his shoulders.::

“I have climbed the mountain again and again. Time and time, I have become a champion.”

::A bit older Travis, about a year, still clean-shaven, but with his hair a little longer, is moving up an entrance ramp, with the OWO World Heavyweight Championship in his left and one of the OWO Tag Team Championship belts in his right, raised high above him as he walks back towards the back, looking at the ring.::

“I have been in the main event of numerous pay-per-views and sold out the biggest arenas in the world.”

::A slightly older Travis, his hair grown out a bit more, but still without the beard, but now dressing more that business casual look, stands in a ring with the LAW Mark Man Championship over his shoulder.::

::A somewhat older Kyle Travis, walks to the ring with the FUW World Championship around his waist past a jeering crowd.::

::A masked man, wearing a black mask with a rattlesnake on the side, stands in a wrestling ring with the LAW World Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder. The man pulls the mask off to reveal himself to be Kyle Travis.::

“I do not claim to be a legend, to use the names “the Canadian Legend” or “the Once and Future King” to sell t-shirts or hats or novelty items to the masses. These people will buy anything with our names on it as long as it is put out there, whether they hate us or they love us.”

::The Kyle Travis everyone is familiar with, the long hair, the unshaven look, thrusts the ACW Television Championship into the air as the first man in history to ever win that title.::

::Travis rolls out of the ring, holding the ACW United States Championship, the first of the two he will win, his second making history, against his chest.::

::Inside Madison Square Garden, considered the greatest arena in the world, at an ACW pay-per-view, Kyle Travis walks down to the ring with the ACW World Heavyweight Championship around his waist.::

::At the Spring Slaughter pay-per-view, a referee raises the arm of “the Once and Future King” and hands him the UWA North American Championship. Travis raises the title into the air.::

::A 13 years younger Travis hoists a man dressed in red, white and blue, with a mask bearing the image of an eagle into the air with a suplex and drops him back down. This ::

“I have wrestled some of the biggest names, some of the all time greats that this business has seen.”

::Travis catches a dark haired man that bears a bit of a resemblance to Connor Murphy, but looks a few years older, in an armbar and locks on the Pridebreaker, his unbreakable submission hold.::

“Do you think I am the puppet to dance for you when you want?”

::As the new footage rolls, “Night on Bald Mountain” by Modest Mussorgsky, a piece of music made more famous by Disney’s “Fantasia”, where as darkness falls over a village, the demon Chornobog summons the spirits of the dead and demons for a night of dark revelry before the sun rises.::

::An older man, roughly in his 50s but still with an decent build, dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, with military dog tags around his neck is jogging on a track. This is the former LAW commissioner known as the Colonel. From out of nowhere, Kyle Travis runs up from behind him and clips him in the leg with a crowbar taking the man down. As the former soldier holds his knee in pain, Travis stops running and turns back, twisting the crowbar in his hand.

“Ask yourself what has happened to EVERY single person who thought I would do what they want?”

::A slightly balding man in a suit, his suit torn and his face bloody, goes flying out of a window and rolls onto his own lawn. As he crawls across the lawn, over the broken glass, Kyle Travis walks out from the man’s own front door. He twirls the crowbar in his hand.::

“Ask them what happens when they believe that they can screw with me because they think I will allow it, because they think that I will take it and smile and do nothing about it, and know that I cut my strings long ago and made puppet masters bleed.”

::A dark hair man with a large nose, wearing a suit, the NEW owner Mac Danny, scrambles into the ring as Kyle Travis follows him in, crowbar in hand.::

“You can make Areynn dance. You can make Arsenal dance. Make whoever you want dance, but try me, and I will slaughter your precious family like the sheep they are.”

::Travis grabs the arm of a beautiful young brunette girl and brings her to the mat with an armbar. He twists, locking it on tighter and breaking her arm. This was it, the very first act of senseless carnage to prove a point or to make a statement that Travis ever employeed. This is the night he broke the arm of Pippa Pilkington, an OWO backstage interviewer, the first innocent victim in a long list of victims.::

“Why am I a monster?”

::Kyle Travis leans in the driver’s seat of a car with a crowbar in his hand, it is not yet as blood-stained as it will become, not yet having earned its reputation as his weapon of choice. This is the moment it became his weapon, his tool. Next to Travis is an unconscious man, blood staining his face and his suit. This was the epiphany of Kyle Travis in LAW, when he began his reign of terror on those he believed screwed him. This, however, was just a backstage interviewer he assaulted for no reason other than to make the statement, and because the man often mocked him around others, yet never to his face did the man do anything like that.::

“You think you are evil?”

::A rather disheveled Kyle Travis, looking like he had been through a beating after a match, which is what happened, is still dressed in his wrestling gear with his crowbar in hand and seated in a folding chair. Around him are the ruins of what was once a seamstress station. The sowing machine is smashed. Fabric and costumes are torn to pieces. A woman, the seamstress, has been driven through the table. Her hair is a mess, her clothes torn and she is covered in blood. Travis strikes her with the crowbar.::

“You think you are the darkness that will consume the world?”

::“The Canadian Legend” throws a woman with purple hair in dark clothes, Kyona Eph’Pha’Tha, against the hood of a car. He pulls her back and then throws her into a windshield. He strikes her with the crowbar. It is clear that this has been going on for awhile.::

“You are not. You hide behind the darkness, trying to use it to sow fear and intimidation when in reality, you are a coward hiding behind delusions of grandeur and an army of sheep just waiting to be sent to the slaughter you lead them to, like pawns on a chessboard. They do the work, you reap the reward. You have yet to get your hands dirty, to feel the blood, to embrace the monster.”

::He pulls Kyona off the hood of the car and throws her on the ground, dragging as he pulls the car door open. Travis places Kyona against the car and throws the door into her. Grabbing the crowbar, he swings it into the door.

“I have shed more blood, ended more careers and crushed more dreams than you ever could McBride.”

::Kyona slumps to the ground, rolling away from the car, still moving, dragging herself away from the car. Travis just swings the crowbar against her ribs, causing her to rolls and hold her side. He takes a few steps away.::

“You think you know evil?”

::Walking back over Travis is now holding a red can of gasoline, the crowbar slid into his belt. He steps on Kyona’s body as he opens the can and starts to pour the gas all over her. Taking a few steps away, Travis sparks a lighter and tosses down onto Kyona who immediately bursts into flames.::

“We have both stared into the abyss McBride, but the only difference is that when the abyss stared back, you blinked. Good, evil, right, wrong, these are nothing more than concepts designed by those in power, those who believe themselves morally superior to other and they impose those rules upon their fellow man. Good men are capable of some of the most horrifying acts of evil if they believe it is for a good cause; if they believe that they are the righteous.”

::Kyle Travis just stands there watching as Kyona, a wife and mother burns. As trainers and EMTs come running in, Travis barely glances at them, moving the crowbar just an inch and causing them to back way as Kyona screams and burns.::

“But, I embrace the concepts because I know the deeds I have done in the ring, the actions I have taken, the blood on my hands, not the hands of my minions and my followers, but my own, are never going to be judged as righteous or good or noble. People call me evil all the time, but I am a necessary evil for without me there can be no heroes. God needs the Devil.”

::The footage stops rolling and the music stops playing, but the lights do not come back on. There is no light. There is only the sound of Kyle Travis speaking.::

“Ragnarok is coming Joshua McBride, and a god will fall.”

“The Bible calls it the battle of Armageddon, when the armies of Heaven battle the hordes of Hell. You once warned me about the devil McBride. The problem is that you do not know the devil. I am the devil and I have heard you knocking.”

::A dim light begins to fill the room, allowing Travis to be visible.::

“When Jesus died on the cross, He went to Hell. The Messiah went down to the fire and brimstone and ice and he looked upon Lucifer and from that realm of suffering and pain and fire and torture, and He raised souls He deemed worthy and brought them tpo the Kingdom of Heaven to know God’s embrace and on the third day he rose.”

“Let us see if the Dark Messiah can survive his ordeal in Hell, because this time, the Devil is not allowing anyone to escape.”

::Once again, Travis raises his arms outward, like a preacher or a priest would when he gives a sermon.

“At Monday Night Mayhem, if you followers believe that you are god, then I will make them believe I am the devil.”


::Rather than looking upward, as he usually does when he does this, Travis lowers his head. He does not look up towards Heaven, but instead, he looks down to the ground. He looks down towards the direction of Hell.::


“Through me the way into the Suffering City,
Though me the way to the eternal pain,
Through me the way that runs among the lost.
Justice urged on my high artificer;
My maker was Divine Authority,
The Highest Wisdom, and the Primal Love.
Before me nothing but eternal things
Were made, and I endure eternally.”

::Kyle Travis looks up towards the camera, those cold predatory eyes stare forward as he recites the words that the Italian author Dante wrote in “The Inferno”, the first part of his “The Divine Comedy”, describing his journey through the pit of Hell, the mountain of Purgatory and his flight through Heaven. The words Travis recites are from Canto III of “The Inferno”; it is the inscription above the gates of Hell.::

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

::The lights go out again, bringing back the darkness. All that is heard is the sound of his footsteps as Kyle Travis leaves.::