Numquam Fidelis

Beams of white from light posts lining the street pounded against the glistening pavement below, a canvas of black dotted with stars stretched out overhead. The moon watched along the skyline, a slim piece of yarn keeping it from plunging into the faux-Earth beneath.

The frontal cortex activated, firing off sparks to the neurons that gave life to the lifeless scene in the blink of an eye. Men and woman popped into existence, kids scampering in between the chaos. White beasts explore the natural hills just beyond the skyline, hulking in size and ready to exterminate an entire race if given enough of a reason.

A walking cliche stumbles through his thoughts with his hands slumped into his jeans while his head hung low. Disappoint hitting hard, he cursed under his breath, a hushed mention of fornication that nobody dared to admit they heard in the immediate vicinity.

"You've been spending an awful lot more time in here, haven't you?" Her voice was familiar, connected to the curvy imaginary friend who resided just underneath the flaps of Lifer's brain, tucked beneath some layers and hidden away to rot in a city such as this.

"Scar, what the fuck are you babbling on about now?" Zack grumbled. "I have no other option, alright? Real life isn't exactly filled with rainbows and good times right now." His sideways glance led him to tilt his head to the side; an annoyed expression plastered over his face.

"Look, I'm sorry you hardly love your wife anymore—" she began while her petite pencil legs propelled her forward towards her unmarked destination.

"Hardly's putting it mildly," he scoffed. "She won't even look me in the eye anymore, Scarlet. She can't forgive me for all the things I've done these past few months," he mumbled, trying his best to paint out his apocalyptic situation with the brushes and the paint he was given. "Alanna and I have been disconnected, friends moved on and went on to do their own thing without me, and I'm just fucking left in a creek without a fucking paddle."

Lifer snarled at the prospect, annoyed with the thought that his reality was going downhill in such an immeasurable catastrophic way around him.

: So, what are you gonna do about it?" Scarlet asked smugly, black tank top draped over her black heart deviously intermingled with the rest of her relatively normal organs trapped inside her torso. "You just gonna bitch and complain about it without doing anything, or are you gonna fight for your happiness?"

"Honestly?" the defeated man stopped in his tracks, looking at the woman right in front of him with a sense of overwhelming pessimism boiling in his veins. "I'm not gonna do a thing about it. Let's be perfectly honest with ourselves, alright? I'd rather be in a fucked up loveless marriage than die alone. I mean, half the damn country probably agrees with me. It's better to stay for Alanna than make a whole fuss about whatever the fuck's going on in your head,"

"You die a little inside," he continued, voice boisterous and obnoxious. "You die a little every single time she refuses to recite the same tired three-word mantra you hardly believe anymore. You die a little inside when the woman who used to be the girl of your dreams can't even look you in the eye, but what are you gonna do? You can't do jack shit. All you can do is hope that shit gets—"

A giant white beast ran into town, his gnashing teeth chowing down on a woman ten yards away. Pink flamingos flew straight above, silhouetted across the light features of the moon. Lifer's eyes darted towards a white ring on his right hand, the material wrapped around his digit and marked with a powerful mystic glow. While the woman died before him, he laughed, turning a blind eye to the transgression and heading in the opposite direction, blood-curdling screams over his shoulder.

More beats overcame the city, desperate to destroy toe residents of this fair city without rhyme nor reason. They avoided Zack like the plague, forcing the others into a bloody pulp instead of wasting their time on menial food that came from the surrounding forest. Blood began to cake the sidewalks, streaming from every which way as crying filled the night air. One after another, every man woman and child were a bloody puddle of organs that soaked the monochrome city in crimson red.

Once the city was purged, a portal opened into the ground - fire and brimstone cooking inside. With a callous grin, Lifer followed his call, leaving the drenched city he once called his home in favor of a much more sinister playground.


"Nick?" her sweet voice called out to him, standing at the door frame of their bedroom while he lied in bed staring at the ceiling. "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" he answered, his voice harsh as ever while he slowly stammered to get to his feet again. He knew it was time for dinner, autopilot taking over once more.

"Something's wrong," he noted, almost like it was a revolutionary discovery. "What happened? Are you feeling okay? Do you think the medication's still working?" That's when it hit him. His whole marriage was determined by whether or not he kept eating his cocktail of medicine every morning. At least, that's how his eroded mind, jaded from the recent circumstance.

"No, I— I'm doing fine," he lied, trying to give her the best smile he could muster. He eagerly walked passed her and into the hallway, stomach growling as he smelled dinner from here. "The medication's working like a charm, don't you worry."

"Good," she smiled, hands playing with the fabric on her shirt, following him to the dining room. "Just keep up the good work, okay?" He nodded, headed to join Alanna while the ravioli dinner waited for itself to be served from the counter.

"I will. Promise," he grinned, sitting in his seat while his mind toiled away at the thoughts inside his head once more, reveling in the insanity that overtook him.



DeMarcus.

Hardaway.

Hannigan.

Oh, I see what you're doing. You thought it'd be funny to pair the raving jerk you don't quite comprehend with everyone's beloved favorite "The Hammer" in the opening match to start the festivities. I have no problem with it. If you want to subject yourself to the match, I won't walk away this time. I'll give you exactly what you crave.

I'll give you a match you'll remember for a long time, how does that sound? I'll give you the fight of my life and start ExPro #38 with a goddamn bang. I'll shoot the big man down with a swift kick to the temple before he can throw the first punch.

Oh, but don't get me wrong. I'm not underestimating the man. He's strong. I won't deny it. Way stronger than my scrawny ass, but I've fought strongmen before. I've taken down the unstoppable giants back in xWo and took out quite a few in PDW. Not to mention all the hard hitters I've defeated in the RIMAC, but I digress.

Okay... Okay, fine. I'll let my guard down. I'll tell you the absolute truth... My record hasn't been nearly the level I promised myself it'd be. I was gonna make waves in this company, was gonna prove why I belong in EXODUS - the company I fucking love - but it just hasn't turned out that way lately, has it? I mean, what have I done since taking down Chuck Matthews? Nothing. I've done nothing. It's time for a reboot.

It's fitting I'm at the top of the card. I suppose that's where I belong right now, fighting a guy who came straight from a beat 'em up game as the main antagonist with five layers of health - Kingpin to my Daredevil, Hulk to my Wolverine, Bane to my Batman. Needless to say, the odds aren't in my favor, but considering my six years experience, and considering his relative newcomer status in the company, well...

I'm still gonna aim from the hip and shoot for the head. I'm still gonna do my damnest to give him a concussion, but quite frankly, I thought you might wanna know that strength isn't an easy thing to combat. Speed sure, intelligence, that's a way too, but when you look at it objectively on the table, one good move on his behalf and I'm done for the count.

No, no, I can't go soft now. That's bullshit. You're a (R)evo kid. You're learning, sure, but you haven't done anything noteworthy aside from a few tweets. This isn't about who's more popular. This isn't about Twitter followers, isn't about public opinion. I'm possibly the most hated man in EXODUS right now and I could still kick your ass, 'cause your ass is too concerned with the next thing he's gonna tweet while I'm busy training my ass off in the goddamn gym!

You're not Kingpin - that would imply business sense, a smart head on your shoulders. That would require a leadership role, something you sorely lack the ability to acquire. You're not The Incredible Hulk, 'cause face it, you're far from incredible and that'd imply you were an unstoppable force. You're not unstoppable, you didn't bask in the glow of gamma radiation. All you are is the guy in the Planet Fitness commercial - you lift things up and put them down - while you walk out that fucking door and head mindlessly into the parking lot! Oh, hi Allen.

I'm the Chosen One, and you're literally Horrigan - the hulking experiment gone wrong stuffed in some modified power armor who's all action, no substance, and we all know how Fallout 2 ended. The only difference between you and him? He actually stood for something. You? You hardly even know why you should hate me. You hardly understand why you need to take me down. So, how about a history lesson to really make this interesting?

I choked Heather Halliwell, former EXODUS World Champion, numerous times. I took out Lexi Chapel and Adrien Cochrane in one damn night and I beat Fiona and Jon Collins when I first got here. I outsmarted the smartest man in wrestling and took him down before he had the chance to do the same to me, and I beat Zero McHannon - another former EXODUS World Champion - in a PDW ring fair and square way back when.

I'm a consistent thorn in this company's side, always willing to let my thoughts be heard, and people like you try to steal my right to free speech like I'm some kind of third-rate citizen. That's why you should hate me. 'Cause I'm not afraid to speak my mind, and I'm not afraid to take down anyone standing in my way to get there, so when we stand face to face in that ring, when you hear that bell toll, I want you to give me a favor. It's simple, really.

I want you to try. I want you to try with everything you have. I want you to stretch that brain to its limit, 'til smoke comes out your ears. I want you to flux every muscle in your entire body if that's what it takes to defeat me. I want you to feel the brunt of EXODUS' employee's livelihood resting on your goddamn shoulders, 'cause this is damn important.

Should you win, you did so honorably. I'd commend you for it, give you a rousing toast at my dinner table, but should you lose? Well, let's just hope you can say you tried. That's enough victory for one day, isn't it? And you did it for EXODUS - the company you love just as much as I do. Just as long as you don't slack off and give this as much thought as you usually do, ExPro #38 will be the night they actually started to take you seriously.

And even if you win, you still lose. "You and all your friends are gonna join me in a big ol' mushroom cloud sendoff." Not now, but one day. It's only fitting, right? We'll keep in touch. It'll be fun, I promise.


The staircase was long and winding, each step more taxing than the one before it. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here stays here" was spelled out in neon cursive writing on a big red sign, the distinction that this was more Vegas than Hell. A smile crept across Lifer's visage, arriving at the gate.

Dark shadows and crimson red flooded the scenery like nothing else he's seen before, and once he actually took in the sight, he realized nobody stood at the gate. There were no lines like in the books, no gatekeeper making sure you had a right to be here. No, it was simply a three pronged metal contraption that made sure you couldn't leave as easy as you came, akin to the one from Six Flags. Once Zack passed the barrier, the new prong clicked into place with a loud roar and he was free to explore the scenery, a carnival filled with strip joints, casinos, magic shows and talents.

His eyes widened, taking in each and every sight as men from all over the world looked to get their paws on a ticket to see Harry Houdini escape from a straitjacket hanging over a shark tank, a flame lighting up the rope above. At least, that was the poster on the side of the rather large building, an automated android walking the streets to tell everyone that the show was about to start and that the price was so cheap you couldn't miss.

Zack fished through his pants pocket to find the suggested forty dollars. Maybe this new playground wouldn't be so bad after all, he thought to himself. It was a brand new world to explore, and a brand new way he could ignore reality's responsibilities.