January 2nd, 2016

Home…home again, I like to be here when I can…the lyric to “Time” by Pink Floyd enters my mind as I step foot into the place I have resided for what I tell myself will be the last time. I have to get out of this fucking town I think to myself as I stick the key in the lock, twist and place my feet out of my shoes and onto the hardwood floor of the living room. As crazy as it is, I tell myself, I’d much rather be back in New York, or maybe in the mountains of Asheville, North Carolina. I still have property in both areas that I am sure are littered with cobwebs amongst other things. I drop my bags down on the floor that I am not going to bother to unpack because I have to be on the road for the SCW once again in two days’ time.

I feel a bit of pain in my ribs from having Auclair trying to shove his dick in my face before slamming me down on the mat. The son of a bitch never gets any easier to deal with. He made sure I knew that at the End of the Year special. Yeah Ace won, but I am not going to lose my mind about it. Unlike him, I’m not fucking broke so he can go eat a dick if I’m just being honest. I have bigger and better things to focus on like becoming number one contender to the World title.

I enter the living room and I see how empty the place is. I look over into the kitchen and I see the half full to empty liquor bottles littering the kitchen counters. Those are the only times this place sees any ounce of life. I let out a sigh as a single enters my mind.

I have to get out of this fucking town.

I tell myself that I would much rather be back in Montreal, and that is really saying something. With Sanders dead and gone, may he rest in pieces by the way, I have been telling myself that I need to do something in order to live a somewhat normal life. After the special was over, I decided to stick around Montreal for a day just so I didn’t have to come back and do the same shit just on a different day. When I am here, I just feel like something bad is going to happen, or that I have to look over my shoulder every five fucking seconds.

Being away brings me some sort of comfort given my current state of affairs, but something tells me that no matter where I’m at, the shit storm of a life I’ve landed in will find its way to catch up to me. So when I’m away, I do my best to try and enjoy the fruits of my labor so to speak. I walk into my room and I lie down on my bed, as the way I celebrated the New Year begins to play in my mind as my eyes rest upon the ceiling.

I went to the locker room after mustering up the strength to move around in the ring, took a shower then took a good hard look at myself. The image of killing Sanders played through my mind over and over, but when I looked into my eyes, I saw a soulless expression. I went out to a few bars, to have myself a night on the town. I am pretty sure I saw Ace at one point, doing what he does best and blowing his load well before he lets it develop and by that I mean, money. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend or someone to spend a few days with. I wanted someone I can control, just as I was able to control Sanders from the get-go. There was and still is something about the thrill, the rush that I get from it. It is something that I have a hard time putting into words.

I met a girl. She didn’t know a goddamn thing about wrestling, but she pretended to. I didn’t care either way. I just wanted to fuck, so I took her back to my room and had my way with her several times before finally kicking her out. She begged to stay but I told her that I didn’t know, that I didn’t trust her and I didn’t want her to rob me. I closed the door, ignoring her sobs and pleas. I got what I wanted so Happy New Year to me.

The next day my mind was back on wrestling. I went downstairs and trained in the hotel gym which could have been better, but could have also been a lot worse. While taking a break in between sets, I would glance at my almost non-existent Twitter account, reading all of the bullshit normally placed on there. Kennedy apparently wants to start saving lives. Alexis and Amy Chastaine, two of my possible opponents exchanged some Tweets that amused me. I discovered that Alexis truly is full of herself. I like it, but then I remembered she was all over Ace, which made me hate her even more, despite the fact that we could cross paths in the tournament. The thought made me train some more.

After training ended, I took a shower and got my shit together. I set a time and a place for my private jet to come pick up so I could be escorted back to the States. I use my own jet because I really fucking hate people and being near them for long extended periods of time. The trip home was calm and relaxing, but then I got here, and all of that disappeared.

I am lying here on my bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that Sanders made sure someone would come tie up any loose ends should anything happen to him. I don’t regret my decision to kill him. It is something that needed to happen. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I tell myself that when and if someone comes, if Death decides to show up on my doorstep then I will deal with the reaper when the time comes.

I will tell that son of a bitch that I’m not ready to die yet, that I have shit that I still want to do, that I have to do…

I mutter the words “Fuck Death” before sleep washes over me.


January 4th, 2015

I’ve got to get the fuck out of this town.

I’ve decided to catch an early morning flight tomorrow to get to Breakdown. I am spending today relaxing, making sure that I am mentally prepared for my match against Stacy Kissinger and whatever may come afterwards. Stacy has already spewed some bullshit about me. I’ve watched it a few times on my laptop, because I can’t get enough of it. Stacy could truly be something, no matter what division she is in but she is right about one thing. I do not give a damn about whatever shit she has been through in her wrestling career.

What I have through personally in my life since becoming a wrestler makes her tragedies look like a fucking cakewalk. She mentioned Gable breaking her heart, yet I am supposed to let go of all the shit I’ve dealt with in my career. Apparently, she is on a different playing field. I guess she sees herself as Alexis, where everything is about her.

Stacy needs to get a clue if you ask me.

There is a part of me that wants to feel sorry for her, because she spent a majority of her promo trying to convince me that she is the real deal and that she has what it takes to become number one contender and to turn her career around so that she can finally make something of herself. It made me scratch my head, because I know she has it in her, but I feel, when you peel back the layers, that it would be easy to see that Stacy is trying to convince herself of how good she is. I’ve been in that boat before, where I have questioned my abilities and whether or not I had what it takes. When I returned, I made a solemn vow to never question myself again. I’ve done it once and I nearly won the SCW Championship at Apocalypse.

I figured it was time to was best to put up or shut up. So far I have been on a roll minus the whole Tag Team Championship match at Final Level, or the End of the Year battle royal. I’ve come close in those matches, but coming close, I tell myself as I stare at Stacy’s face as it rests on the screen of my laptop, coming close isn’t a fucking option once I get to Breakdown.

I’ll make sure Stacy knows that what I bring to the table is far above good enough. That getting her head on straight and keeping it there isn’t going to help her because I am going to knock her into next week, metaphorically speaking of course, where it will set in that she lost to yours truly.

I close my laptop and go to pour myself a drink, as there is nothing wrong with catching a good buzz. That is normal right? I am so out of whack when it comes to living a normal life. There is a part of me that feels like I should be out selling drugs, or running drugs, or planning a bank robbery, just something that deals with crime, but I settle with the drink instead. I grab the Jack and the Coke. I grab m glass and fill it with some ice before popping the top off of the bottle of Jack. Right as I am about to pour, I hear a knock at my front door. To be honest, there is a slight hesitation, as I tell myself it could be Death just standing there, waiting to put the gun to my gut so he can pull the trigger before watching me stagger back into the house, holding my abdomen, trying my best to stop the bleeding before slowly slipping away from this life that I never truly got to live.

Fuck it, I think to myself before walking towards the front door. I look through the peep hole only to discover that it is none other than Agent Briggs, the by the book hard working American patriot, on the other side. I let out a sigh and shake my head before opening it.

Briggs: “James…”

James Evans: “Briggs…”

Briggs: “It’s been a long time my friend. How are you?”

James Evans: “It hasn’t really been that long has it? I feel like I could go a few more months without seeing you if I’m just being honest. Other than that though, I’d have to say that I’m doing alright. Enjoying a pretty nice day before I find myself performing in the circus again.”

Briggs nods his head and shrugs his shoulder, even flashing his little cop smirk, before looking back up and locking eyes with me.

Briggs: “Well in that case, I will do my best to not waste a lot of your time. I have some questions I need to ask.”

I scoff before shrugging my shoulders, trying my best to hide my uneasiness, as something tells me that Briggs may have questions regarding Sanders. I tell myself to just play it cool as I don’t want it to be obvious that I killed the bastard. I know Briggs wants to close his case and Sanders was his key piece. I’d love to tell him that what I did was personal but I’d rather not end up in prison.

James Evans: “Yeah, what the hell? Come on in…”


“Stacy, Stacy…the Southern Belle, it has been a very long time. Do you know what I’m talking about? I am referring to the year 2011. You and Gable were fighting the Gospel consisting of Chad and Katelyn for the tag straps. You traded them back and forth. I have not been in the ring against you in quite some time, but there has always been a constant with you during that time. You’ve always struggled. I am not knocking you, because I have been in the same boat. I was struggling back in 2011 when you, along with Gable, Warren James and someone else handed the Chosen its ass before taking from the group. I am not pissed about that because I hated the Chosen. I just never had the chance to show that I was able to beat you on my own, which is something that I have noticed. I have always done better on my own. Something that I feel like you were capable of when you first came into the SCW. You won the United States title from Katie Steward, and you were really making waves, but after that, you have floundered. You have always rushed into the arms of someone be it Gable or even those guys from Adrenaline Rush. I feel it is because you don’t believe in yourself, you don’t think you can be consistent on your own. And maybe you can, but maybe you can’t. You have a chance to prove that you can at Breakdown, as you are very close to competing for the SCW World Championship. All you have to do is get through me. Well, despite what you have done in the past, despite besting me when we’ve been on opposite sides of the ring, this tournament will be the closest you get to the world title, because you are not getting through me.”

“I am not burying you. I am not saying you’re going to be a walk in the park, because I know better. You have proven that when you really want something, you can go out and win it. I have proven the same thing. You and I have something else in common which is that we ride this wave we are on when you’re having a nice run, but when that run comes to an end, we slip and fall. We have a hard time recovering. I typically just leave while you remain, fighting you through it. I can admire you for that, Stacy because at times you have had more heart than me, but at Breakdown, that heart is going to be broken. Because I am tired of struggling. I am tired of getting on a run and having it come to an end. I can handle a loss, but I can’t handle not being able to recover. I know it will come at some point, but this is the best run of my career I’d have to say and I am just not quite ready for the ride to stop. So one of us will have to slip and fall. I am going to fight to make sure that it isn’t me. I am going to fight to show that I want this more than you, that I deserve this much more than you. You can try and be respectful, but I can’t be, Stacy, so if I have to hurt you in order to advance and become the number one contender, then I am going to make sure that I have a fucking field day.”

“You may question me and wonder how I know that I want this far worse than you do. I don’t know that for sure, Stacy I can admit that, but I am telling myself that I want it bad, because I know that I cannot afford to take my eye off the prize. I know that you have never had the chance to compete for the World title and you’ve been here way longer than me. You have been through some hellacious battles, but none of that matters to me. I am focused on myself and getting through this damn tournament, meaning I don’t care what I have to do in order to become the overall winner and number one contender. I know you can dish it out and fight harder than most of the roster, but you’re fighting me. I will be looking to make my mark and send you to the back in tear so you can be consoled by Craig Thomas while I continue to fight. You can give me your best shot and I wouldn’t expect anything less. I just think that it won’t be enough. I am not knocking you, Stacy but it is something that I believe. It is something that I have to believe, because if I don’t then that shows weakness, and in this game, when you want the World, you can’t afford to be weak and I refuse to do so.”


James Evans: “So what brings you by? Oh yeah…you have some questions. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speed this up so I can get back to my day of relaxation.”

As soon as the words exit my mouth, I hear the click. I know instantly that it’s a gun. I slowly spin around to find Briggs standing in the hallway going towards my living room, holding a gun pointed right at me.

James Evans: “I guess Sanders wasn’t kidding when he said he’d have someone come after me. I never believed it’d be you, Briggs. I mean, shit…you would have been the last person on my list when it came to being a rat.”

He cuts me off, glaring at me with his cold piercing eyes.

Briggs: “Where’s Sanders, James? What have you done with him?”

I smirk. James Evans: “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen since the day after Christmas. I’ve slept, drank, and slept some more since then. To quote one of my favorite movies, he could be in one spot or several…”

He clicks the gun again, cocking it.

Briggs: “This isn’t a game, James. I’m not fucking with you. Tell where he is. Is he dead or alive? Either way, I want to know where he is.”

I shrug my shoulders, letting out a sigh.

James Evans: “Well, I’m not fucking with you either when I tell you that he’s dead. I shot him. Repeatedly. It felt great to be honest. As to where he is…I’m not sure. I had my associates take care of it, keeping the gory details to themselves.”

I stand here as Briggs stomps towards me. He lifts his arm up and strikes me down with the gun, hitting me in the side of the head. I drop down to one knee, before looking up. I see him glaring at me still, grinding his teeth before driving his boot into mine as everything fades to black.


“Next up, stepping to the plate, weighing in at one hundred and fifty pounds, hailing from that place George Bush didn’t give a shit about…yes I am referring to New Orleans…is none other than Amy Chastaine. Let’s give it up for her ladies and gentlemen!!! WOOO HOOO!!! WOOO! WOOO! WOOO! And I am done…” I let out a sigh before continuing to speak, calming myself down, “That is how it is going to be for you Amy, because you’re the favorite. You are one of the ones the fans love, so they cheer you and they admire every single thing about you in and out of the ring. They will throw rose petals at your feet and hand you their babies so you can raise them ten times better than most of the white trash that watch our show, can actually do. You are a hero, Amy. You are a role model. You are one of the hardest working women in show business. And now, here you are, stepping into the ring, hoping for the chance to compete for the SCW World Championship. I am sure that last bit makes your fans cream their panties, giving the male fans an extra reason to stroke it at night, fantasizing about you more than they do their own wives. But even though you haven’t asked my opinion on the matter, I am going to give it to you anyway. The fact that you are in this match makes me fucking sick, Amy. You haven’t even been in this company for a year yet here you are…on the verge of a possible main event run. And people wonder why I have such a chip on my shoulder…it is shit like this…It just drives me absolutely insane, Amy. To sit back and see all of these new faces come in and somehow manage to surpass me so to speak, getting the matches I want and deserve in record time…It’s enough to make a man want to smack a bitch.”

“That is exactly what I will do should our paths cross at Breakdown. Now, Amy don’t get me wrong, I am not knocking your talent. You’ve obviously been doing this for a long time. Ten years, and you’re still managing to kick ass. You have won championships in various federations and companies throughout your tenure as a professional wrestler. You’re still active, even at your age and you haven’t shown any signs of slowing down. Your fans have to admire that. Hell, I am not sure a lot of the people in the back admire that. If I was a nicer person then there is a slight chance that I would admire that, that I would respect it, but you see….you’re my enemy, you’re a threat to my chance at main eventing the first pay per view of 2016. You’re a threat to my chance of competing for the SCW World title. That bothers me. That doesn’t sit well with me. Just like how you’ve gotten to this point without being here for a year or longer…that bothers me. I am not saying you shouldn’t compete for this chance. I just don’t think it should be right now. Stacy and I…while I hate to admit it sometimes…we both have the right to be here. Stacy and I have paid our dues with this company, we have put in a lot of time. I have been here years if you add up each of my stays with the SCW, yet I have never been this close…this fucking close to a world title shot. That bothers me, Amy and that is why when and if we step into the ring against one another, I am going to hurt you. I am going to use my size, strength, and weight advantage against you. I get angry when I think about those things, because it makes me remember just how sick and tired I am of seeing the same bullshit going on in the main event, in those long oversaturated television segments, as well as people like you, who may have done a lot of shit elsewhere but never here in the SCW, get pushed to the forefront.”

“I am not saying you don’t have what it takes, because you’re obviously a favorite for a reason. You have talent. You have skills. You have shown you can go toe to toe with some of the best this place has to offer, but you do not deserve to be at the forefront ahead of me. I have spent a lot of time as nothing more than an afterthought, Amy and that doesn’t sit well with me. It isn’t going to happen anymore. You can take the Shot of Adrenaline tournament. You can outdo Christy Matthews on a weekly basis. I will give you that, but I will not give you this victory, nor this number one contenders tournament, because I deserve it. I have had the talent for years. I have had personality and charisma for years. I have always had “IT”!!! And when and if we meet, Amy, it…no matter how good you are…it will simply be too much for you to handle. And don’t worry, I’ve had to say it to all the ladies and prove it. I have proven it so many times that I belong in the main event as a mainstay performer. I guess I will have to do it again. You can reach this level, but you will not do it at my expense, Amy. I will treat you like New Orleans and rock you like a hurricane, leaving you broken down and in shambles, before turning the other cheek like Bush and look elsewhere, like ahead, keeping my focus on and staring at what will soon be in front of me and that is the heavyweight championship of the world.”


The liquid is cold and crashes over me, waking me from an unwanted sleep where there was nothing but darkness, followed by the sounds of waves crashing. My eyes fly open wide as I let out a gasp, trying to catch my breath, as if I was fucking drowning. My head is pounding and my ears are ringing. I close my eyes and slow down my breathing, slowly catching my breath. I keep my eyes closed just as the ringing finally comes to an end. The throbbing in my head is still present but not as bad as when I first woke up. I open my eyes to find Briggs sitting across from me in the living room. I look down and see that I’m not tied up. I look over and see that he still has his weapon pointed at me.

James Evans: “You know Briggs, save us both the trouble and just kill me. If that’s what you’re here to do then go for it you rat fuck!!!”

Briggs: “That’s funny coming from you…I mean after all I recruited you to be a rat for me, just so I could use as nothing more than a puppet. You were terrible at your job. You didn’t give me what I wanted or needed in order to get rid of Sanders just so my boss could take over this fucking shit town. That is why I blew your cover, James.”

I look down at my feet, slowly breathing.

James Evans: “That’s funny as well, Briggs. This whole time you thought you’ve been playing me yet that hasn’t been the case…”

I shake my head and laugh as I slowly look up, locking eyes with Briggs. He glares at me, but I can still notice the confusion in his eyes, as I continue to speak.

James Evans: “You received my name as a possible recruitment for a reason. I knew you were a rat fuck long ago. My father had you on the payroll. Whoever he had transferred over to Sanders. You fuckers set my father up to die. Sanders wasn’t there, but he had a hand in it. Your hand was around the gun. You’re the one who pulled the trigger, Briggs.”

He fires back, gritting his teeth, hissing at me.

Briggs: “You’re goddamn right I did. The son of a bitch deserved it, just like you deserve it. So…”

He stands up, keeping the gun aimed at me.

Briggs: “I have one question James. There’s just something that I’d like to know before I blow your brains out all over this shitty fucking home.”

James Evans: “Fire away, cowboy. Just make it good.”

He smirks.

Briggs: “How did you find out that I killed your father?”

I smirk this time before replying.

James Evans: “My father always kept track of all his meetings. He made sure he recorded everything…telephone calls, face to face meetings, fucking everything. He made sure his lawyer had all of that shit. Well when he died, I inherited everything, Briggs. I spent months listening to everything, making notes and then I found out about you. I heard you kill my father. I have any and all proof and evidence linking you to various criminal activities. And like Sanders had, I have an insurance policy my friend. You kill me…or even if you don’t kill me…that shit will be sent to media outlets and law enforcement agencies all over this country.”

I watch as Briggs lowers the gun, looking down in disbelief. My smirk remains.

James Evans: “Yeah you rat fuck. You thought my father was nothing more than a dumb criminal, but he had it all figured out. And like father, like son…so do I. I have informants, people in my pocket that work with you. Whenever word got around that you were looking for an informant to send in undercover to work for Sanders, I made sure my name got around. I knew you’d come find me and guess what…you did just that. You as well as Sanders walked into my little trap, becoming nothing more than my fucking puppets. When the right moment came, I would make you both pay. Sanders had someone I cared for murdered along with her daughter and you…you murdered my father. For that, neither of you deserve to live. Fuck you both…”

He looks up at me as a scowl appears across his face.

Briggs: “Fuck me? Fuck me? No…no…no fuck you, James…”

He stomps towards me, raising the gun once more. But I react this time. I quickly grab the hand with the gun, chopping down on the wrist. His grip on the weapon expires. I then drive my fist into his chest several times. I watch as Briggs staggers back. I drop down to one knee, keeping my eye on him as my fingers graze the gun. I cup it into my hand, placing my finger around the trigger. We lock eyes. I make no facial expression as he charges towards me. I fire once. I fire twice. I fire a third time and Briggs falls down as I stand up.

I begin to back away as Briggs tries crawling towards me. I watch him and I can’t help but feel some sort of amusement from all of this. Revenge has never tasted so sweet, I tell myself. Briggs reaches out towards my feet but I drive my left foot into the side of his head, knocking him over onto his back. He looks up at me, as I stare back. I want to say something, but I don’t. I just watch as the life slowly drifts from his eyes, as Death visited him tonight. He tried to assume the role, but it was mine for the taking. I am slowly breathing, knowing that I need to do something about this as I am sure the shots were heard. I step into the kitchen, keeping my eyes on the now lifeless body of Agent Briggs, the rat fuck who took my father from, the rat fuck who paid for his crimes against me just as Sanders did not but a few days ago. I grab my cell and dial a number, pressing the phone to my ear as it rings. Three rings into it and a voice chimes in my ear.


James Evans: “Kyle…”

My friend, the man I have pretended to hate, Kyle Adair, my informant in law enforcement, responds, sounding calm.

Kyle Adair: “James….Is that you…”

James Evans: “Yeah…it’s me…it’s done…”

Kyle asks if I’m home. I say yes. He tells me that he will be right over. I don’t say anything else as I drop to my knees, dropping the phone beside me, as the words “It’s done” begin to repeat over and over in my head.


“The year 2015 didn’t end as well as I had hoped. I didn’t win the battle royal, but I am not upset about it to be honest. I came in third out of 29 wrestlers who entered the fray. I am not happy with coming in third but it is what it is. I stated going in that I wanted to test myself, to see if I needed to better myself and it is pretty obvious that some changes need to be made. There needs to be a few tweaks here and there, but other than that, I am on top of my game. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. I’m not CHBK. I am not broken. I am young and healthy, alive and well, locked, loaded and ready to go.”

“I am ready to start the New Year off with a bang, and by that, I am sure it’s obvious I am talking about becoming the new number one contender to the World title. I have already addressed Stacy Kissinger as well as Amy Chastaine, which leads me to none other than you, Alexis Quinne. There is a chance that you and I will cross paths at Breakdown. I am personally looking forward to going toe to toe with someone who has dubbed themselves “Pint Sized Awesomeness”. It’s a real cute nickname, Alexis, but we are going to have to see, should our paths cross, if you pack more of a punch than a bag of fun sized candy bars. We will have to see if you have what it takes to show that dynamite comes in small sizes. I am sure you’re used to small sizes, or at least you will, when and if you put out for Ace Marshall. There is a reason most of the women he bagged were under the influence of some kind. I’d be careful, Alexis. Don’t drink anything you don’t make yourself, otherwise you could find yourself in a lawsuit similar to that of Bill Cosby if you catch my drift.”

“But enough with the jokes regarding your personal life. I am more focused on what you bring to the ring. You have caused quite a storm, making a name for yourself since you joined the SCW. When you turned your back on Collin Cole and formed PUNK HAZARD you really stepped out on your own and you have won some big matches, showing that you can get it done in the ring. That shows me that you and I have a lot in common. We don’t really play well with others in terms of me abandoning the Chosen and you stabbing Collin Cole in the back. We’ve had to resort to underhanded tactics in order to get the victory. You’ve done a lot more of that than I have, but I am not here to point fingers. I welcome you to bring your friends, Alexis and I will show them, just as I will show you, that being in the ring against me, especially in this tournament with everything that is at stake, it will prove to be hazardous to the health of your punk asses, no pun intended.”

“You see, I know that you are a crafty pint sized cunt. I know that you can pull off a win out of nowhere. You have talent, Alexis, but I feel like you sell yourself short. You have what it takes to be a champion in this company, yet you have to constantly cheat. I can get things done in the ring on my own. I have proven to be crafty as well and I have been in this game longer than you, so I have already grown eyes in the back of my head so to speak. I am much more technically sound when it comes to stepping in between those ropes. I have no issue with hurting you, or anyone else you bring along to the ring. I have never backed down from a fight, Alexis and while I’m sure you haven’t either, I am not as insecure as you are. If you weren’t insecure, you wouldn’t need your boys. You wouldn’t have to cheat more often than not. Right now, as I address you Alexis, I pity you. As I have said, you have talent. You can be so much more than what you are, but that will not happen at Breakdown. I will do whatever I have to do, hurt whoever I have to, in order to achieve victory. Amy and Stacy, while I know they are threats, they are not you. They are not vile like you. They like to do things the right way. You and I break rules in order to get what we want. You, in my eyes, are my biggest threat and that means I will have to beat you at every facet of this game.”

“You will keep me on my toes, Alexis. I have no doubts about that. I also don’t doubt myself because I know that I am hungry. I know that my appetite will not be filled until I am crowned the SCW World Heavyweight Champion. You are a threat to that, so I will have to take you out. That could mean a lot of things so be prepared to be in for the fight of your life. Be prepared to have a match that will not be fun. You want to make sure you are the standout and that everything is about you. Despite your talent and how good you may be inside of the ring, Breakdown will not be about you. It will be about me and only me. I have waited for this chance and I will not have it stolen from me as it has been in the past. You may be thinking of having victory sex with Ace Marshall. You may want to get checked first and I am sure that’s scary. If you don’t want to go the hospital on your own, I will be sure to send you out on a gurney if that is what I have to do.”


The night is coming to an end. Kyle and the guys he set me up with have cleared the scene of my home. I am just sitting in my living room chair, having a Jack and Coke finally, the words “It’s done” still repeating over and over in my head, until Kyle’s voice is heard, ringing in my ears.

Kyle Adair: “Everything’s good, James. We’re clear…”

I look up at him, probably looking like a combination of cold and unsure mixed with calm and hopeful, before I speak.

James Evans: “I hope that this is truly over. I truly do. I don’t want to have to continue living like this, Kyle. I don’t have it in me.”

Kyle Adair: “You don’t have to. I will make sure that you have no ties to this case. You will be like a fucking ghost to this case. Hell, only Briggs, me, and the guys who worked for you knew about your involvement. Besides if anyone asks questions, all I will have to do is play them the tapes, show them the evidence of Briggs’ involvement with Sanders from the get-go. No one would give a fuck about you.”

I scoff before taking another sip of my drink.

Kyle Adair: “So what are you going to do now?”

I return my gaze to Kyle’s, locking eyes with him, before giving the only response that I can think of at this particular moment.

James Evans: “I’ve got to get out of this fucking town…”


“The four of us all bring something different to the table. It will be a clash of styles and personalities, but in the end, the goal is simple. We all want to become number one contender for various reasons. I don’t give a damn about how or why you all want to get that honor, to earn that privilege. I give a damn about stopping whoever I face in order to earn it for myself. There will be no pity, no remorse, and no respect. There will only be yours truly getting what I have long been denied. The SCW has made me suffer so now it is time whoever the SCW sends my way to suffer something far worse. At Breakdown, James Evans begins to rise. Whether or not the world is ready for it doesn’t concern me. You can’t stop the inevitable…”