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What Happens When You Reach It? Ask "The Psycho" Thurston Howell. Does he regret doing what he did? Does he regret stealing the only thing that matters to Nomad? Not yet. He�s reveling in it. Reveling in the anger of Nomad. The anger. The pain. The torment. Does he regret stealing the EWA International Title from Nomad? Not yet. But he will. -=- The streets of New York City are unusually empty on this balmy summer night. Air conditioners are working double-time to cool off the rodents who populate this city. Groups of children, still waiting for their initiations into gangs, gather to suffer in the heat together. Wannabe g-funk mofos are cruising in their dropped Chevys, cranking 2Pac and other such garbage -=- -=- A lone jet black BMW Z3 Roadster screams down the city streets at speeds no one should attempt in the Big Apple. Nomad is behind the wheel, his eyes hidden behind his Swiss Army sunglasses. At this time of the night, the glasses serve only to block out as much of the filth as possible. The windows of the car are open, and "Right Is Wrong" by The Step Kings is blasting over the sound system. Nomad suddenly pops the clutch, slams on the brakes, and drops the car into second gear. He peels a hard left turn into a parking garage, and slips into a reserved parking spot. He closes up his car, gets out, and gets in a nearby elevator -=- Everyone has a breaking point. Some never reach it, some relish in crossing that line. Some teeter on the edge. How far does one man have to be pushed to reach that breaking point? -=- The door to Nomad�s penthouse apartment flies open, and we see Nomad�s boot behind it. He looks at the damage done by kicking in the door, and simply walks past it. He strides over to a bar in the corner of the living area, and pours himself a shot of Jack Daniels. He puts down the shot, then another, then a third. He takes a few deep breaths until the burning stops, then caps the bottle. He walks over to his ornate black wood chair with red and black upholstery, and slowly sits down. He bends over, and sits his head in his hands -=- How did this happen? How have I fallen so far so fast? Not too long ago, I remember almost having a handle on my life. Now what? Where did that control go? It�s gone. It�s gone. I�ve given myself back to the rage. I�ve gone back to the roots that I so despise. I gained control, I remember the bliss of it. I remember how I had longed for it, longed for the ability to keep my own anger in check. I finally took back my life, and used my newfound focus to get the World Title. But now what?! I knew this was coming. I�ve felt it for a very long time, now. Bubbling up inside me. Waiting to come back and steal away my life. Damn it, Nuno. You don�t know what you took from me. You don�t even know what you�ve done. You released it. You brought it back. You unleashed it. I felt it take over, I felt my chains of control snap and give way. I knew the battle was lost. The anger, the rage....it stole my mind. I knew it was over. Damn it, Nuno. You brought back the Nomad that no one ever wanted to see again. You brought back the Nomad that made people run with fear. The Nomad that could never get over with the kids because I was just too damn frightening. IT WAS THAT GOD-DAMNED SPEAR. The anger was behind that, not the man. The torment took control, and drove me into that move. Now, things will never be the same. The roots. I�m back to my roots. I�m back where I started. I�ve lost control, and now there will be hell to pay. The EWA isn�t safe. And unfortunately for Thurston Howell, he picked the wrong time to fuck with me. I�ve lost control, Thurston. And God forgive me for what I do to you in that ring on Tuesday. God forgive me. -=- Nomad suddenly stands up, grabs a two-foot solid granite statue of a vampyre, and throws it out the window of his penthouse. Far below, he hears it tear through the roof a parked car -=- Ahhhhhh FUCK. How am I supposed to explain that to the cops.... 
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