The tall, proud palms sway and submit to the howling winds, guided by a massive man-made bird moving in from the northern coast of Hispanola.  The natives of the island, Dominicans, rush out towards the stout, asphalt runway of their rudimentary airport.  With dirty hands raised to their creased, sweaty brows, shielding their eyes from the glowing white sun which glares down upon them from behind a thin layer of grey clouds, the semi-owners of Hispanola, the other half being property of the Haitians, observe the rigid, rocky landing of the Learjet.  Crafts of air and sea have arrived and departed all week long, slowly importing the bare essentials required to conduct a single house show and a televised Loaded that will pass as acceptable.

    All of the poverty-ravaged islanders gather in a group and anxiously await the revelation of the person who has just arrived.  Their eyes widen as the solid white door located towards the nose of the private plane slowly begins to open and reach downward towards the rough, hot ground.  The door, which bears a set of steps, touches down with a metallic CLANG!, and the spectators emit "Ooohs" and "Aaahs" as they await the arrival of their newest guest.  Some of the locals creep towards the resting vehicle, attempting to grab a peak inside at its lavishly furnished interior.  However, they soon back away and gaze in awe at the portal of the mighty plane, as a single man bearing a slick, black leather jacket over a grey sweater, a black leather belt, some grey pants accompanied by a pair of black boots, and a tight coal and silver mask steps out.

    The man's welcoming committee all yell out with cheers and praise as the man, who clutches three golden championship belts, raises his possessions over his head and smirks.  The HCW Champion Creature is adored in the West Indes, the Dominican Republic especially, though no one is quite sure why.  Never the less, the great champion begins to make his way down the steps to a round of applause by his loyal Dominican fans, but halts immediately as a portly fellow, bald atop the head, and wearing a long pair of khaki shorts and a buttoned up red shirt, approaches him.  The bulky man extends a hand for a shake, but only receives a stern look for his troubles.  He still smiles, and welcomes Creature.

Man: Hello, and welcome to the island of Hispanola!  As you know, we here in the Dominican Republic are great fans of yours, and would like to-

    Creature holds a hand out to the man, and moves it slightly back and forth.

Creature: Save it.  I was told there was a limousine waiting to take me to my hotel.

    The rotund native beams with pride and nods towards Creature, who simply glances around the area, looking on with disgust at the poor, pathetic, wretched people of the Dominican Republic.

Man: Right this way, sir.  By the way, my name is Michael, and-

    Creature shakes his head from side to side rapidly.

Creature: (interrupting) I...I don't care.  Just get me to my God damn hotel.

    With a gentle nod and a big wave to his fellow citizens, Michael places a hand on Creature's back and guides him away from the buzzing and cooling Learjet, towards the front of the Dominican Airport, where the fanciest limousine on the island awaits the HCW Champion.  As the pair move side by side, Michael attempts again to strike up a friendly conversation with the not so friendly Champion of the World.

Michael: So Champ...are you ready for your big match?  Ready to win the All-Star Cup?

    Creature abruptly stops his walk towards the limousine, and after a stiff shrug of one shoulder, he throws Michael's arm, complete with short stubby fingers, off his back.  Michael stops and peers at Creature, though he does so with a grin on his face.  He is a true glutton for verbal punishment.

Michael: Something I said?

    The masked champion lowers his head and snorts with rage, a rage not unlike a savage bull running wild inside his twisted psyche, and then speaks out with a hiss of hatred in his already sinister voice.

Creature: Something you said?  You're damn straight it is something you said.  First off all...of course I am ready for my big match.  I'm always fucking ready!  But ready to win the All-Star Cup...let me tell you something about the All-Star Cup.  It is useless.  Meaningless.  God knows why Gill even brought it in!  You see this?

    Creature takes his HCW World Championship belt from the set of three which he holds in his left hand and raises it with his right to Michael's face.

Creature: This is all I need.  Gill says the All-Star Cup will determine the TRUE best in HCW...GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK.  I am the Prince of Wrestlers, the King of Men, and the God of HCW.  I am the best!  But if the fact that I am ranked number one over all the HCW so called "super" stars, the fact that I am the first, last, and only three-time World Champion under the HCW banner, the fact that I am the Unofficial Grand Slam Champion, is not enough well then...then I will indeed win this God forsaken All-Star Cup.  Then I will indeed add it to my enormous list of accolades.

    Creature pauses and shoulders his HCW Championship while allowing his other two belts to dangle at hsi side.  He quickly continues to speak before the goofy looking Michael can respond.

Creature: I have done it all here in HCW, and I might as well be recognized as the Grand Slam Champion after my win over Tecno at Meltdown II.  But, if EVERYTHING I have done, and ALL the people I have defeated is not enough to prove to the world that I am the ABSOLUTE best, then as I said...the All-Star Cup will be mine.  What's another piece of gold to the man who has it all?  Hmph.

    Michael grins and pats Creature on the empty shoulder.

Michael: You will do fine my friend.

    Creature knocks his fat hand away from his shoulder and glares down at Michael, who stands at about 5'7".

Creature: I know I will.  Take me to the limo.

    Michael nods and motions for Creature to follow him.

Michael: This way.

    The large Dominican scurries along excitedly with Creature not far behind, though more apathetic to the entire situation.  The HCW Champion is less than thrilled about being in the Dominican Republic despite his natural popularity there, and is not too pleased about having to work a match there as well.

    A head lies a group of securities guards, dressed in drab, neutral hued clothing, with assault rifles over their shoulders and long, black clubs hanging from their belts.  Michael smiles and gestures towards them to part, and the group of five split in the middle, three to the left and two to the right.  Creature and Michael pass through the group, and approach a chain link fence located at the fair side of the central complex.  Creature's eyes are pleased to see a lengthy, black limousine resting serenely on the other side of the fence.

    Michael reaches the gate of the fencing and hurridly unlocks the padlock with a small, bronze key produced from the left breast pocket of his shirt.  He pulls open the gate, and motions for the HCW Champion to follow him through.

Michael: Right through here.  There is the limo.

    Creature smirks and pushes past Michael and the gate, and storms towards the limousine.  As he walks, he can hear the footsteps of Michael behind him, and even make out his reflection in the gleaming exterior of the beautiful limousine.  Creature arrives at the rear door of the limousine, and stops.  He stops and awaits the chauffeur, who stands on the other side by the driver's side door, to come open the door for him.  As he waits, Michael catches up to him.

Michael: Creature-

    With a sigh, one of the many competitors in the battle for the All-Star Cup turns his head and stares at Michael.

Creature: What?  What is it now?

Michael: I just wanted to wish you good luck again, and hope you have a wonderful time on our island!

    Creature nods, then turns away from Michael as the chauffeur reaches his door and opens it.

Creature: I'm sure I will...so long as I walk away with the All-Star Cup and another win on my record.

    Creature then climbs into the limousine, and allows the chauffer to close the door.  Fortunately for him, the windows are tinted dark, and he cannot see the merry face of Michael gazing in from outside.  He can however, hear the driver and Michael speaking outside the luxurious automobile, though in French.

Michael: Il va aller a l'hotel.

Driver: Oui, oui.

    Creature snorts and sets his triplet of championship belts next to him on the leather seat, then reclines in the back of the limousine.  He raises his hands and cracks his knuckles in front of his chest, then sighs.

Creature: Hurry the fuck up people...

    Finally, the two just outside conclude their dialogue, and the chauffeur works his way around the front of the limousine and enters.  Within moments, the vehicle drives down a ramp leading away from the parking area of the airport, and out onto a slender, bumpy road which will take Creature to his hotel.  Inside the limousine, Creature watches out one of the shaded windows as he passes by several small, run down, rural homes, with the occupants standing or sitting around outside, displaying their desparaging state.  He sees small children dressed in close to nothing, and thin with famine, and numerous women pregnant and filthy.  He views men with beards and tattered clothing, and the entire country reeks of poverty.  But none of this matters to the HCW Champion.  He is focused on closing the mouths of his many detractors, winning the All-Star Cup, which will no doubt be a tedious chore, and finally be recognized as the true best in Hardcore Championship Wrestling.

    Turning his attention away from the window and the pitiful Dominicans outside, Creature lays his aching head back against the cool, comfortable seat and allows his tired his eyes to seal behind his mask.  He takes long, deep breaths, and speaks to himself about this match up for the All-Star Cup.

Creature: The All-Star Cup...the match it will be contested in is hardly filled with All-Stars.  We have CJ Sinn, the HCW Hardcore Champion.  Hmph.  As the man from who all other Hardcore Champions are measured, I can rightfully say that he is a disgrace to the belt I made honorable, the belt I made prestigious.  He failed against Inphino Blitz, and he constantly requires help to attain victory.  Carnage gave him a challenge of all people!  Ah...as far as Sinn is concerned, he is just another young HCW rookie who will have to be put in his place by the Masked Man of HCW.  Then of course, there is Tecno.

    Creature opens his eyes and lifts his head from its location.  He glances down at the HCW World Championship belt, which rests alongside the HWA World Championship strap.

Creature: This past Sunday night at Meltdown II, Tecno gave his all, but it wasn't good enough.  He earned a few near falls, of course his best opportunity to snatch my title from me was after a Storm Front onto a steel chair.  It would be a lie to say I underestimated him, because I believe I estimated him perfectly- he is pathetic.  Maniac was right to say he didn't deserve his shot at the championship, because contrary to the belief of the staff and many others, Tecno simply was not ready to step into the ring with me.  He was destroyed and demolished, and at long last I pinned the Internet Champion, giving me the right to call myself the Unofficial Grand Slam Champion of the HCW.  This Thursday night, I'll expect no better an effort from Tecno.  I won't consider him a factor until he proves otherwise, and without a Storm Front to help him, he'll only Feel the Abyss.

    Creature once again lays his head back, this time staring up at the black ceiling of the limo.

Creature: And then there is Maniac.  He recognizes the fact that Tecno is no where near my level, and he recognizes the fact that it is a sin for CJ Sinn to be in this match, and he even claims to...RESPECT me.  He also has made a vow to take my HCW Title away from me, finally returning the favor from so long ago.  Well I'll concentrate on his revenge on me when the time comes, because for now, it is time for me to contemplate my vengeance on HIM.  Respect or not, the Soulz have gone out of their way to make my life a living hell, and damn near cost me the HCW Championship at Meltdown II.  So come Thursday night, it will be my turn to make his life a living hell, and it will be my turn to cost him something- the All-Star Cup.  I can't guarantee it will be him who I pin for the victory, but I can guarantee that he will be on the receiving end of an ample ass kicking from the Masked Man of HCW.  Now I know Maniac very well, and I know that he is not in a very good mood after losing Meltdown, but I also could really care less.  Because Loaded will be about two things for him- paying his debt to me for his heinous actions as of late, and leaving disappointed once again as the All-Star Cup is awarded to the true best in HCW- Creature.

    Creature clutches the bottom of his seat as the limousine makes a sharp, rapid turn right and begins to enter a larger city, one with walls decorated in graffiti and streets laiden with refuse.  Creature sneers at the sights of prostitues wandering the cracked sidewalks and dogs, skin and bones, digging through the litter and trash, scrounging for an evening meal.  Creature once again turns his head away from the window, opting to not even concern himself with the problems of the country he will perform in.  He returns to contemplating his match, and the other two competitors in the bout...Mr. and Mrs. Blitz.

Creature: Ah...what a happy couple.  Hmph.  Inphino and Mei, once again a golden couple in HCW.  While I've faced Inphino before, the only true confrontation I've had with Mei was when...when I punished her in the Crossface Chickenwing while her husband lay writhing outside the ring.  It's funny all she thought to say about me was that I suffer from some sort of chemical imbalance...obvious bullshit.  I'm fine.  It's not my health she should be concerned about in the first place.  It is her own.  Because as the woman in the match, aside from Tecno of course, she is at an extreme disadvantage.  I am aware Inphino has done his best to train her in his hilarious martial arts and with an unbeaten streak she truly believes she is a force to deal with her in HCW, but let me remind her that she is still just a little bitch in a man's world.  A man's world run by ME.  And so her training and her streak will not be a factor in this match, because just to be cruel to Inphino, I think I'll go extra hard on her.  Crossface Chickenwing, Prince's Crown, Flames of the Abyss, Superkick...she'll experience it all, and I'll deliver with a smile on my face.  Besides, I've already ended Tecno's streak, and it felt damn good, so why shouldn't I get to end hers?  I may not exactly like the idea of having to prove my dominance over HCW once again, but another piece of gold will be nice, and it will indeed be fun to finally step into the ring with the loud mouth whore who has caused my ears so much torment with her Inphino propaganda.

    Creature pauses and lowers his head.  The mere thought of Inphino Blitz causes the blood vessels to swell inside his skull, and he can feel his brain throbbing against the bones of his cranium.  He blinks his eyes rapidly as they begin to burn with pain, and he emits a low pitched growl.

Creature: Inphino...I was hoping I wouldn't have to deal with that fool for a while after Unleashed, but it's only been one month since our last encounter.  Ah...I'll just show him up once again.  At Unleashed, whether he admits it or not, I controlled the entire match, not allowing a SINGLE pinfall or SUBMISSION victory.  His sole wins came from a countout and a disqualification!  Hahaha...the Black Dragon Master is not as invincible as the world thought.  But Unleashed is in the past.  Our wars are in the past.  At Loaded, it will be about more revenge, revenge for what he did alongside the Soulz, and redemption for Jack Duncan.  Inphino Blitz has been strutting around HCW for the past couple of weeks, acting like he is the calk of the walk, insulting Jack and I's intelligence, skill, and authority in HCW.  Enough is enough.  Thursday night, I intend to finish him off once and for all, defeating him for the third time in four matches, and on top of it all, taking home the All-Star Cup.

    As the limousine begins to move up a steep hill, Creature glances out the window at tall complex in the distance.  It is tall, with sallow chipped paint and a sign which flickers on and off sporadically.  Several windows are boarded up with planks of splintered wood, and outside, resting by a pair of blue dumpsters, is a group of homeless Dominicans begging for money.  The building is wretched and pathetic, and is one of the top hotels in the Dominican Republic.  It is where the HCW Champion will stay during his time in Hispanola.  With the limo making its upward climb, Creature lays back in his seat and allows his mind to wander once again, with the intense pain inflicted by his hatred for Blitz finally subsiding.  He cannot think, however about a man who attacked him at Meltdown and caused great anguish.  A returning foe of his.  A man once bearing the Mercer name.  Now, he goes by the moniker of Raiden.  And he is gunning for Creature's gold.

Creature: Raiden...how dare that son of bitch show his face in HCW?  I put him out...Jack and I put him out with the Abysmal Driver, and while we sent his stupid nephew or cousin or whatever the hell he was packing for Jersey, we obviously couldn't keep Michael away for long.  Now he is back to once again be a thorn in my side, and once again spew forth his tired cliche`s while boasting about defeating me, even though he always seems to exclude the part about Inphino fucking me over.  Yes indeed, the King of Cliche`s is back, only now he wants me to call him Raiden.  It makes no different what he wants me to call him however, because to me, he will forever be known as Bitch.  I have Maniac breathing down my neck for a title shot, I have Blitz wandering around the world promising to someday get a rematch with me and defeat me, and now this bastard is back to hunt for the HCW Championship.  Hmph.  Fine.  I'd like to invite them all to bring it on.  I'd like to invite them all to take their shots at me, and I'd like to invite them all to defeat.  I am the definitive All-Star in HCW, and I fear NO ONE.

    During his rant, Creature neglected to notice the completion of the uphill journey.  Now the limousine makes another turn, and heads up a small ramp into the parking lot of the run down hotel.  Creature adjusts his position in the back seat and gathers his trio of championship belts as the car rolls to a stop and the chauffeur climbs out.  The driver opens Creature's door, and the HCW Champion climbs out of the vehicle.  He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of the area, but is appalled when he finds only the stench of rotting food and body odor.  With a scowl on his face, Creature moves past the driver and heads towards the main entrance to the hotel, avoiding eye contact with the miscreants and hobos who lurk just outside.

    Upon entering the wooden door of the hotel, Creature examines the lobby.  It is tiny compared to most in America, with gaudy blue carpeting, plain white walls, and one simple desk at the far end of the room where a strong, gruff looking character sits.  Creature shakes his head with pitty, then approaches the desk.  As he nears, the man looks up at him with a grimace upon his face, though there is not a time when the man does not sport a frown of some sort.

Creature: Give me the key to my room.

    The man tilts his head to one side and scans Creature for a moment.  He then places a hand on his chin and caresses his stubble while he speaks.

Man: Who are you?

    Creature scoffs and extends his arms.  He holds out his three title belts and glares at the man.

Creature: Who do you think I am?  I'm the HCW Champion, Creature.  Now give me the damn key to my room.

    The man ponders for a moment, then comes to the conclusion that Creature is indeed who he claims to be.  His head, with short, black hair, drops out of sight momentarily, then reappears.  In his hand he know clutches a small key ring, with a single, dingy, rusted key attached to it.  He tosses it onto the desk.

Man: Third door from the right.

    Creature glances over at his shoulder and spots the room which is his.  It is simply down a hallway adjacent to the lobby, and it appears he will have to share a restroom with the other tenants.

Creature: Hmph.  The front office insist I come, but they can't even put me up in a decent room...

    Creature turns away from the man and heads off towards the short corridor where his room is located.  At the end of the hallway, to the left of the portal to the restroom, there sits a solitary decoration in the form of a potted plant on a blue stool.  None to impressed, Creature enters his room and slams the door shut, ready to simply fall asleep and get to the match tomorrow for the All-Star Cup.

    The room itself is equally as heart breaking as the rest of the island.  There is no fan, or air conditioning system.  Instead, a single window directly across from the door serves as ventilation, and while it is open, it is heavily gripped by mosquito netting.  The floor is hardwood, and each plank is stained and loose.  There is a small chest at the foot of the bed for Creature to store his belongings in, although he didn't bring anything at all with him.  He does not intend to stay for the house show, and Jack Duncan is bringing his in ring attire tomorrow.  The bed itself is only a mattress on an old, wobbly metal frame with a white bed spread and a blue sheet atop it.  A single pillow, without a case, rests at the top of the bed.

    Creature nonchallantly tosses his three belts onto the closed chest by the bed and sighs.

Creature: I suppose I have no choice but to find something to do out in the town.  There is no chance in hell that I will stay here longer than I must.

    Making an about face at the entrance to his room, Creature passes through the door once more, slams it closed yet again, locks it with the key, and then stuff the key ring into an inside pocket of his jacket.  He quickly moves his head from side to side, loosening his neck and easing some stress.  He glances around the corridor for a moment, then exits it as well and steps back out into the lobby.  A quick check reveals the man behind the counter has yet to move from his last location and position, and Creature briskly exits the hotel.

    As twilight approaches the island of Hispanola, the night life begins to awake as the innocent, hard working civilains head inside for the night.  Creature now walks along the sidewalk in front of the hotel, with both hands in the outside pockets of his jacket, and his head lowered.  The sun is setting, and the evening's air is slowly cooling.  The HCW Champion's footsteps echoe throughout the area, and many of the less fortunate Dominicans watch him as he passes, mummbling to himself.

Creature: Meltdown II...Mathers was the winner.  It is Mathers who I will have to face at Hardcore Holocaust.  So be it.  What is another HWA reject to me?  Sure, he survived thirty nine other men, but I was not in the Brawl.  He has never faced me, or an opponent anything like me.  And in coming weeks, I promise he will learn why I am the Prince of Wrestlers and the King of Men, why I am the HCW Champion, and why he doesn't have a prayer in the world come Hardcore Holocaust next month.

    A thin, grey dog approaches Creature with a wet nose curiously sniffing away, but is rewarded only with a swift kick to the face.  Creature glares down at the animal for a moment, and it quickly scurries away.

Creature: The All-Star Cup...what the hell is Gill thinking?  He wants to find the best in HCW...well he can look no further than Creature!  His Chosen Champion!  The HCW Champion!  I'm ranked number one in HCW for a reason, and it is not because I am the second, third, or fourth best.  I don't need some stupid Cup to prove I am the Man in HCW today.  But, as long as it is around, I will compete for it, and I will win it, because it would be true hell to have to listen to Inphino Blitz, or Maniac, Mei, or Tecno, or even CJ Sinn gloat about being "better than the World Champion."  Hmph.  Tomorrow I will take five adversaries and I will show them that I am the top dog here, and that they will only be better than me in their wildest dreams.

    Working his way deeper into the city, Creature takes notice to the fact that the farther he goes, the worse conditions become.  The roads', buildings', sidewalks', and lights' all begin to worsen the more he progresses into the Dominican Republic, the hometown of HCW's own The Show Pavel Castro, who faces Markus Maximus tomorrow night on Loaded in a battle to end their epic war.  With his head still hung low, Creature moves on, occasionally peering out at his surroundings from the corners of his eyes.

Creature: How the hell will we ever be able to conduct a good show here?  Ah, I guess it doesn't matter.  It was Valentino's idea.  Valentino.  I cannot say that I'm sorry he's back.  I was perfectly content with Gill in power, even though he neglected Jack and I's needs, but now that the Soulz have decided HCW belongs to them, it's good that Valentino has returned.  He and I never saw eye to eye, but one thing will always remain certain- he was part of the reason Jack and I broke Savage's legs.  He enlisted our services to do the deed, and while we had alterior motives, it was Valentino who moved us to do so.  Now with a man as ruthless and cut throat as him back in charge, I can be sure that Spider and his rag tag band of bastards will be held at bay until Jack and I decide it is time to lash out and slice open their jugulars.  I have a Soulz tomorrow night, and an ally of the Soulz as well in Blitz, and so it will be a truly fun match for me as I have already promised to avenge their past actions, no matter what bullshit about respect and accomplishments and pasts that they throw my way.

    Creature glances up as a car speeds past him, with low tires, scratches and dents consuming the body, a broken headlight, and a heavily cracked windshield.

Creature: That vehicle looks as though it went a round with me, something five opponents will do tomorrow night to determine the first holder of the HCW All-Star Cup.  Will I damage them all the same way?  No.  But I promise they will all go home with some reminder of our battle- perhaps Mei with a dislocated shoulder, Maniac with serveral compressed vertebrae, maybe a broken leg for Inphino, a concussion for Sinn, and a crimson mask for Tecno.  And what will I leave the Dominican Republic, this hideous land, with as a souvenir?  Why, the HCW All-Star Cup!

    Creature now lifts his head with pride, as he realizes that tomorrow night will be better than he thought.  The show may not be up to the standards of HCW's usual because of the locale, but so what?  He may not exactly want to work just after Meltdown II, but who cares?  He might object to facing Inphino Blitz again, or any of his other opponents for that matter, but what can it hurt?  When it is all said and done, Creature intends to be the HCW All-Star Cup holder, and he intends to be finally recognized as the absolute best in HCW, with no room for dispute.

Creature: Yes...those unlucky five will fall in the wake of my All-Star Cup victory.  Those five will know my name as the Absolute Best.  And those five will all realize that there is no stopping me or the Creature Era, not Thursday, not at Hardcore Holocaust, not ever.  Their Futures are dim, but the Abyss is Dimmer.

    Creature smirks to himself and keeps his hands in his pockets as he moves on through the chilly night of Hispanola.  Will he turn out to be the true HCW All-Star?