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There Must Be A Beginning It�s about time you got here, dipshit. I�ve been waiting for you. Get over here. Now. -=- The camera man slowly shuffles in the direction of the voice. He flips a switch, and the mini floodlamp on the camera flashes on, revealing the end of the alleyway. Against one wall sits a fine wood podium with a glass case on top of it. The podium is rotting and broken, the glass shattered. The purple velvet pillow with gold trim that once sat inside it is long gone, pawned off by some homeless waste of flesh for a week�s worth of beer money. In the far corner sits a makeshift throne, constructed out of boxes, blankets, and other random items. Sitting in the throne, leaning back, with a strange look of calm anger on his face, is the gothic icon known as Nomad. He�s dressed for the biting chill of this raw spring day, wearing a black henly shirt over a plain black t-shirt, black twelve-eye paratrooper-issue stomping boots with large zippers up the inside, and black jeans tucked into the boots. Over this, he�s wearing his tattered black trenchcoat. His dirty blonde hair is hanging down in his face, and his eyes are fixated on the camera -=- I�m guessing you�re wondering why I�ve called you here. Why this interview had to be conducted here, in the bowels of this retched stink hole on a day this cold, this raw. The answer is simple. Because this.... -=- Nomad gestures around to the filthy surroundings -=- This is where it all began. This is where I began. This is where NOMAD began. Years ago, I too was a bum like all the rest. My luck ran out early in life, and I took to the streets. But instead of using my pain as a crutch like all of these sacks of flesh have, instead of using my pain as a reason to fester in my own feces....I used my pain to make myself stronger. I rose from the ashes of my own fall from grace, and began to crawl back to humanity. I ruled first these alleyways, then the very streets of New York. It wasn�t long before I signed on with the Extreme Wrestling Association, a not-so-promising rookie with little more than the clothes on his back. -=- An eerie grin flashes across Nomad�s face, then vanishes as he continues speaking -=- But what became of that not-so-promising rookie? He became the greatest International Champion in EWA history. He became the "giant killer" of the EWA. He became one of the cornerstones of Team Ballz 2000. He became the EWA World Heavyweight Champion. He became the first and only man to cleanly beat the Brink. And by god, that rookie was me. I rose to the very top, then disappeared from view. I lost my spark, and refused to rest on my laurels. So rather than live on my name value like some "icons" in this company, I left. I simply left. But now, I have my spark. I have the drive, the desire, and the will that made me the best back in the day. And now I�m going to prove that I�m STILL the best. Dino Delsante? You�re just another fuckface who got lucky. You have no skill, you have no drive. All you have is a title that doesn�t belong to you. And this Sunday, little man, I�m taking that title back. -=- Nomad sits forward in his makeshift throne, and lets his hair fall down in his face. He shoots a quick glance to the left, then to the right, before he fixes his gaze back on the camera -=- What do you see when you look around this place? You know what you see? You see absolutely nothing. Because that�s exactly what I started with. I started with nothing, and ended up with everything. And do you know what the first thing I ever had in my life that meant jack shit was? DO YOU KNOW?! It was MY god-damn EWA International Title. When I got that belt, I finally felt like I had become something. I finally felt like I had pulled myself from the gutter life that I hated so dearly. I despised being here, in this place. Rotting along with the refuse of humanity that chose to make these streets their home. That belt was more than just my first title, Dino. It was more than just my first taste of the spotlight. That fucking title was my ticket to SALVATION. That title means more to me than it will ever, EVER mean to you. That title is mine, Delsante, and I�m going to take back my fucking property. I started in the gutters, and used that belt to pull myself free. And now I�m using your scrawny ass to pull that title out of the gutter you�ve driven it into. You�ve made it meaningless, nothing more than a paperweight. It doesn�t stand for anything. Dignity, perseverance, ability, willpower....to you, these are nothing but entries in Webster�s Dictionary. To me, Dino, they�re a way of life. And that EWA International Title embodied these characteristics when I wore it. Now, it simply means that the bearer sucks less than his competition. This Sunday, Dino Delsante, you will step into the ring with the first, best, and only man worthy of the title...."International Champion". This Sunday, we are going to meet in the inaugural "Ascent to Armageddon" match. And when that cage door slams shut, you�ll know you�re already finished. You�ll swallow hard to drive the fear as deep as you can, to make it go away. But it won�t go away, Dino. It will stay in your throat, choking you on its poison, and that�s when I�ll strike. When you are the least sure of yourself, I�ll be there to show you why you have so much self-doubt. Do you know why, Dino? Because you fucking suck, and you know it. The world knows it. You�re a puppet champion, a second-rate substitute to keep the belt warm until someone worthy steps up to the plate. I am that person, Dino. And your road, long as it may be, is narrowing. Your voyage is drawing to a close. And this Sunday, your journey....comes to and end. -=- The camera man takes a few steps back, and Nomad stands up. The camera man turns and runs, as the feed cuts off and fades to black -=- 
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