It is said that you never feel the shot that takes you down.

It was true.

Because for Kristoffer Arroyo, all there had been was an explosion of sound at his ear, and then a big wide awake nothing. Floating in an abyss absent light and sound, yet still oddly cognizant of having a body. Kris looked down, finding himself intact.

This was new.

Because Kristoffer had died and been brought back by Samael Dyson’s machinations before. And both of those times it had been like a scene simply cut out of a motion picture. There. Not there. And there again. Kris had, in effect, experienced nothing at all.

But not this time.

This was so much worse than simple non-existence. Kris could feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest as his mind struggled to make sense of the void. As his body tried to find balance in a setting completely devoid of gravity or even a surface to anchor to. And it was in these harrowing moments that Kris became aware of another fact. He was moving towards something. It started out as a mere ember in the distance, but as Kristoffer gathered speed and momentum from some unseen engine or presence, the spark grew and grew into a portal of flame. A portal Kris now understood that he would have to surrender himself to.

He screamed as he passed through the searing fires and into a maelstrom of scorching buffeting winds of ash. The fiery winds sank down his throat like a vile proboscis, burning him all the way down. He coughed and wheezed, eyes watering and all the while plummeting, plummeting….towards what?

That’s when the first strike came.

A…creature ...or at least Kris supposed that was what it was, flew past him, and in so doing tore through his bicep with a blackened wicked claw. Kristoffer saw the flesh of his arm slough off like cooked meat. And then another strike came, this time from something rising from below him. As it flew up it carved a path up his sternum, setting the flesh in his chest to flapping uselessly in the winds. The pain was indescribable.

Again and again the creatures came, ripping, tearing and clawing as he fell. Kris could only watch helplessly as his skin was carried away by the winds in wet sodden chunks. He tried to scream so many times only to be choked again and again by that accursed ash. In little time, the only skin Kris had remaining was on his head, and soon enough that was gone too, torn asunder off his scalp by another of those dive bombing beasts.

Kris continued to fall, now nothing but exposed muscle and sinew. He couldn’t even close his eyes anymore to protect them from the hot winds for want of the blessing of eyelids. But not once did he pass out, not once was he granted that reprieve.

It was all suffering all the way down.

When Kris finally struck terra firma, he was stunned to have survived the experience relatively intact. Kris struggled to his feet, seeping blood from his exposed organs that puddled all around him. The ground he was on was craggy and blackened, and it was difficult to gain purchase on it. Kris stepped on a mound and suddenly felt a terrible pain in his foot. He looked down and to his abject horror saw that the mound was not a mound at all, but a face with gnashing teeth that had bit deep into two of his toes and severed them. Kris stepped back hurriedly, once more unable to scream but dearly wishing to. But he simply stepped back into another submerged face, this one biting deep into his heel.

Kris pitched forward. More bites. More of those terrible gnashing teeth. Struggling to get vertical  to escape, Kris stumbled forward at as much of a run he could muster. But his exposed musculature was pierced by constant agonies. And each misstep tore more flesh from his exposed feet.

It went on like this for hours.

By the time Kristoffer reached the furthest shore of this trial, his feet had been mostly ground down to bone. His forearms, which he had resorted to using to drag himself along, were also punctuated by multiple deep bites. Multiple times he had wanted to just surrender, but some force, some entity propelled him ever forward. Perhaps it was just that basic survival sense, the desire to escape, to be free of this madness. Or perhaps it was something worse, something alien forcing him to continue. Whatever the case, once free of the sea of biting heads, he looked up and a new horror befell him.



It was akin to a grand cathedral, but scarred and befouled. But as horrible as it was to behold, Kris reasoned there may be some avenue of escape within. Or at the very least freedom from the oppressive heat and biting winds that still buffeted him. So Kris dragged himself still further, through the open maw of this infernal house, only to be beset by further awfulness within.

Something lived at the center of this anti-church, but Kris could make no sense of it. It was like viewing a being through a kaleidoscope, ever changing, ever mutating. The creature was all impossible angles, sharp edges puncturing each other and forming a veritable puzzle of pure horror. It made Kris physically ill to look upon it.

That’s when it started “speaking”.

Its voice, for as much as it could be called that, was like bits and pieces cobbled together out of white noise. And there was no sound, just a manifestation of ideas and will assembled deep within Kris’ head.

YOU HURT.

The voice declared, somehow rife with scorn and ridicule at Kris’ pathetic condition.

“Please end this.” Kris tried thinking back at the thing, hoping it would understand.

NO.

The vampire despaired, but still summoned the strength to try another tack.

“Where am I?”

PUNISHMENT.

It declared. As if that was in it of itself a locale.

“Is this Hell?”

OF A SORT.

“Is this where I am doomed to remain?”

IT SHOULD BE. BUT NOT THIS DAY.

A glimmer of hope blossomed within Kris. “What do you mean?”

YOU’RE NOT TO REMAIN HERE. NOT YET.

“But…”

Kris never got to complete his thought. Because he was suddenly and abruptly cast out. That was the only term he could muster for what happened. Because the next thing he knew he opened his eyes. His pain was gone.

And Matty was crouched over him, squeezing a treacle of blood out of his forearm and into Kris’ mouth.

But all Kris could do was scream in reply.


“I’m not a foolish man, Dickie Watson. And yet, I have behaved foolishly. I tethered myself to a beast out of some misplaced sense of integrity and propriety. Samael Dyson saved my life more than once. So perhaps I was being loyal. Or perhaps my fealty to that bastard was motivated by something baser, more selfish.

Perhaps I just wanted to guarantee I’d live forever with that veritable font of the everlasting at my side.

Whatever the case, you’re going to call me out on it. You’ll deride me as despicable. As callous. As every bit the monster Samael Dyson is.

And you’ll be right.

Why shouldn’t I just admit it? For years I turned a blind eye to his atrocities. And for what? To buy Matty and I some protection? Some power? Because I felt I OWED it to him?

How dense I was.

So to you, to everyone in the XWF, I offer my sincere apology. Samael Dyson is here, infecting this company, in part, because of me. Because I paved the way for him. And the only thing I can do now is try to make this right by REMOVING him.

But please Dickie, don’t take my remorse for weakness. Because make no mistake.

I still intend to beat you.

Because the only way I can defeat Samael is from a position of strength. And to maintain that position I need to keep winning. I need to keep evolving. And while I’m sure you see fit to stymie my efforts, there is one pure fact that is in my favor.

You are just so fucking beatable.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not Jenny Myst. I’m not some myopic dullard clutching at a sliver of time for want of witnessing the whole. I know your record is good. I know YOU are good. I know you’ve achieved a great deal outside these doors.

But at the same time, the XWF has exposed so, so much of you. So much imperfection. So much weakness. There’s nuance to your success, Dickie, and that nuance comes in the form of getting pinned twice by a man more than twice your age.

Yeah, let’s start there.

Granted, you’re not the only one to have lost to Scoops McGee. But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one to have been pinned by him twice.. And honestly, for a man of your robust talents, for a man as athletic as you, as FAST as you, try as I might I just can’t see an excuse for that. I mean, Dickie, you were my pick to win the whole March Madness tournament.

So what in the seven hells happened?

Was it your nagging sense of allegiance to the man? In the end could you just not bring yourself to break the ties that bind and go full throttle? Well Dickie, I hate to break it to you, but that spells weakness like no other. The fact that you couldn’t set those feelings aside and keep it business first tells me a whole hell of a lot about you, Dickie. It tells me you’re a bleeding heart. And for you to be a bleeding ANYTHING when you’re about to go toe to toe with a vampire? Hmmmm….

Of course, the alternative is that Scoops is just better than you. And I don’t know which version of this tale is worse for you. Because listen cupcake, for as talented as Scoops may be he is still a geriatric on his last legs in this industry. A geriatric against a man who at the tender age of 28 already has THIRTEEN championships to his name.

Sir, I reiterate, what the fuck happened?

Beatable.

Beatable. 


And while we’re at it, let’s reach back to Snow Pain, Snow Gain, shall we? Or as I like to call it the genesis of your losing streak to Scoops. That’s the working title mind you. I’m also mulling over “Dickie Watson: Not Even the Final Boss of his First Pay Per View Defense.”

Dickie, you barely lasted longer than that walking sack of cholesterol Charlie Nickles. THE Dickie Watson! That should have been your show, your night, YOUR CAREER DEFINING MOMENT. And instead you were an afterthought to a fossil and a man you already beat.

Eh, eh, eh….I take that back. Not the fossil part. The “man you already beat” part.

Yeah, Dickie, sure…you covered Kieran King at War Games. And a referee DID count to three. But before that? Before my own team captain unceremoniously removed me from the equation? Dickie…

…you were DYING out there.

Kieran and I sliced through your team like a carving knife through so much supple inviting flesh. You were one up on us, man. And it just didn’t fucking matter. Game Girl, down. Scoops, down. SEB? Not even a blip on the goddamn radar.

Kieran and I OWNED you, Dickie.

That is, until Kieran King let fly his ballooning ego and sealed his demise.

Because you see Dickie, it wasn’t you that beat Kieran King. Not really.

Kieran King beat Kieran King.

And all you did was reap the largesse off a profoundly stupid man who couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Not so impressive when you parse it that way, is it?”


Kris skittered back on his haunches until he hit the wall of the freshly dug grave. Panting and delirious with fear, Kris tried in vain to invoke words but none would come.

Matty splayed his hands out in a calming gesture and walked towards Kris slowly."It's okay, Kris. It’s okay. You’re alive. Deep breaths buddy."

Kris looked up through the mouth of the grave and into a reddening evening sky. He closed his eyes and tried to reassert control, regulating his intake and outtake of oxygen and allowing his pounding heart to slow. It took time, but he was able to gain a semblance of grounding, at least enough to speak. “Matty what happened?”

“Samael had you killed. You were shot.”

The cruel imagery started to return to him then. Up until the point he died. His hands went to the back of his head, where an entry wound should have been there was just a small knot of scar tissue. “....how?”

“I brought you back. With my blood.”

It took the older vampire a series of moments to process this. “But that…that shouldn’t be possible…..unless…..” Kris’ eyes widened a bit. “Oh my God….” he whispered.

Matty shook his head. “I didn’t even know if it would work…” Matty started before Kris interrupted him.

“Matty, you’re an Archon.” 

Matty stopped short. “Well…I….uh……”

It made so much sense now. How Matty had been able to fight back against his use of the Voice months ago. And now this, using his own blood as a healing agent for other vampires.

“.....do you really think so?”

“I’d bet handily on it.” Kris looked back up at the mouth of the hole. “But let’s shelve that for now. We need to get the hell out of here. Where’s Samael, do you know?”

“I waited for him to leave. He just left behind two Insignificants as grave diggers. They’re not a problem anymore.” The boy spoke with a cool finality.

“Matty, I’ll give you a boost.” Kris turned to Matty and offered to help him out of the grave. Matty bounded out easily with Kris’ aid and turned to help pull Kris out as well. Once above ground, Kris surveyed the Insignificiants that Sam had told to remain, or what was left of them, and secretly wished for a world where Matty didn’t have to do things like that. “We need to get the hell outta here.”

“I’m already calling one of Alexandria’s drivers.”

Kris looked down and saw that he was covered in grave dirt. Brushing himself off, he also noted that Madison’s coffin was nowhere to be seen.

“Where was the coffin that was here?”

“They took it with them.” Matty paused. “It was Madison, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Kris breathed the word remorsefully. He would have at least liked to bring Madison’s body back to Lux, but evidently they weren’t finished defiling it.

Lux.

Jesus, she was not going to be happy.


“Sharing is caring, Dickie. So let me share with you some of my own personal current events.

I died and went to hell.

Literal hell. Nothing figurative about it.

And that does something to a man. Knowing what awaits him in the end. That is, unless I course correct.

And I’m going to course correct.

You see Dickie, my experience has given me a sense of clarity I never had before. It’s made me count my many, many sins. It’s made me realize that I need to supersede what I am and evolve into something better. Evolve into something JUST. Something DECENT.

It’s made me into a better man.

And losing to you doesn’t square into that at all.

As I said before, to beat Samael, to prove I’m his SUPERIOR and right my wrongs I need to keep my positive momentum going. And I think I can do that. Moreover, I think I can beat YOU to do that. And why?

Because I think you’re going to underestimate me.

You’ll do what you usually do and castigate me with an air of haughty decisiveness. You’ll lash me with that razor tongue and remain confident that you’ve successfully delved into my psyche and pulled out the core of what makes me ME.

But Dickie, I’m over 300 years old. I’ve seen more in that time than you can possibly fathom. Hell, I’ve experienced thrice the lifetimes that you ever will, boy. And in those lifetimes I’ve loved, I’ve lost, I’ve learned and I’ve fallen. I’ve struggled for perfection and always, always come up short. I’m not only more than you’ll ever be but more than you can even conceive of in ten minutes of paltry trash talk.

In short, Dickie…

….you don’t fucking know me.

But you’ll pretend to. You’ll try. Maybe you’ll make the same mistake so many others have and attack what I am rather than who I am. Maybe you’ll deride me as some cheap gimmick. Which would do nothing but prove just how small your world is.

I’m sure you’ll attack my time in the XWF. But to prove what exactly? In the six plus months I’ve been here I’ve only lost twice. I’ve been pinned once. By a team captain who stabbed me in the back. My other loss came because I fell on a shard of wood. Did you accomplish more in six months than me? Maybe. But I also allowed myself to be overshadowed by a monster.

No longer. No more. Never fucking again.

And that “never fucking again” starts with YOU, Dickie. I know you’re the greatest challenge I’ve yet faced. I’m not oblivious to that. Which makes me all the more determined, as I crawl out from under the shadow of a beast, to BEAT you.” 


Kris watched the grave dirt circle down the drain as he rested his forehead against the wall of the shower. The sound of that death dealing explosion rang in his ear again, and the images of his own personal hell came unbidden once more. He could feel his heart begin to race, his breaths coming shorter and shorter….

“Stop it. Stop it.”

Kris tried to will his body to stop the fight or flight response that was suddenly overtaking him as the memories continued their assault.

“Jesus, I’m going to be a vampire with PTSD…”

That was when the shower curtain was suddenly cast aside. And there she was.

Lux.

“You’ve got bigger problems than PTSD.”

She pointed the tip of her sword at his bare genitals.

“Try anything I don’t like and you lose them.”

Kris gulped in a gasp of air, his heart now hammering to escape his rib cage.

“Please…stop….”

Lux canted her head. “You really are all fucked up right now, aren’t you?”

The vampire tipped back, leaning his back against the wall and smashing his eyes shut, vying for control of his own autonomic responses. It was then that a single thought pushed its way through the chaos in his brain, forcing him to get it together.

“Where’s….Matty?”

“Fine. Asleep.” Lux held up a slender metal dart.

Kris’ eyes narrowed at the dart. He gulped down another breath, steadying himself finally. “What is that? What did you do to him?!”

“I said he’s fine. It’s a tranquilizer. It was either that or do something to hurt him. I’m sure you’ll agree this was the better option.”

A tense silence lasted a few moments.

“Can I at least put some clothes on?”

“You’re going to answer some questions first. Namely, are you still working for Samael Dyson? Bear in mind the sword that’s about an inch away from your testicles if you decide to lie.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Then why did Madison Dyson end up dead almost as soon as I tasked you with going back and protecting her?”

“I had to stop her from escaping to maintain my cover. I couldn’t have predicted….what he’d do…” Kris winced as he spoke those final words.

Lux paused, weighing the veracity of Kris’ statements.

“I can still help you.”

“You’re not an inside man anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m useless.” Kris pushed, catching Lux’s probing gaze. “Let me help. Let me make up for my failure to protect Madison.”

It was a few seconds further before Lux relented, pulling her sword away. “You’re goddamned right you will.” She reached for the towel rack, grabbed one, and threw it to Kris, who hastily wrapped it around his torso. “He’s going to go to ground once he knows you’re alive.”

“He probably already knows. He has his ways.” Kris finished tying the towel. “I need to break him down. Make him lose everything. His titles. His pride. And then his life.”

“We don’t have time for games.”

“It’s not a game.” Kris replied decisively. “I just need to make him hurt as bad as he made me hurt. As bad as he made Madison hurt.”

Lux studied him then, conclusively deciding that he was an ally. “Get changed. We have work to do.”


“This is going to boil down to who’s hungrier. Who has more to prove. Who, simply put, NEEDS this more.

Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, Dickie.

The answer is me.

Completely. Wholly. Utterly.

This victory goes a long way towards me staking a claim to be my own man again.

But what would it be for you? Just another accolade to hang on your wall next to your crowd of mounted heads? Another in a chain of multitudinous victories, each one more inconsequential than the last? I’m well aware of what my stature is here compared to yours. As far as the XWF is concerned I’m mid card, whereas you? You’re the show. Despite your recent losses. Despite your halted momentum. Your one of the places this company hangs its hat now.

And just because I’m beset with a quest for vengeance, doesn’t mean I don’t see the Earthly prize this win grants me. Pinning you puts me in Universal title contention. It has to. And now that I don’t have Samael anymore, I’m on my own. Just me and Matty. And I can’t turn a blind eye towards guaranteeing our futures.

I’m not going to let you stop me from becoming an institution in the XWF. Not with Matty counting on me. Not with Lux breathing down my neck. Not with Samael waiting in the wings to laugh at me if I fail. 

You think your talents are enough to overcome all of that?

Not fucking hardly.

Because, point blank, you have never faced a man in such dire need in your entire life.

Call it desperation if it suits you. Call it what you will. Because at the end of the day I’m an apex goddamned predator with my back against the wall, teeth slavering for the kill because I simply don’t have any other options.

But I do look forward to seeing what that barbed wit of yours proffers up. I look forward to seeing just how much it absolutely PALES in comparison to the drive and desire of a 300 year old man with both EVERYTHING to prove and EVERYTHING to lose.

Dickie Watson, when it comes to this match, everything you are, everything you’ve been…all your skills…your talents….your accolades….

….they’re all just so damned INSUFFICIENT.

They pale in comparison to my WILL.

They pale in comparison to my NECESSITY.

And most importantly of all, they pale in comparison to my devotion to Matty and my desire to show Samael Dyson that I’m so much more than he’s ever bargained for.

But bring it anyway Dickie. I know you will.

Just don’t be shocked when I drag you to hell with me for a second go round with the devil himself.

See you in the flames, little man.