John Taylor’s head hurt.  A lot.  So did his chest and ribs, actually.  It felt as though he’d spent an evening on live PPV at nothing less than a five-on-one disadvantage and faced an onslaught of sledgehammers and jobbers and closed fists.  He didn’t like the feeling, but at the same time he knew that it was unavoidable.  He couldn’t forfeit his independence, not when he was as far as he was.  Such a beating was a price he had no choice but to pay if he wanted to stay true to himself.  And he did want to do that.  But that music...

Friends and liars,
Don't wait for me.

The difficult part was the temptation of knowing just how easy it would be to throw it all away and simply reinvent himself.  At any point, he was but a phone call away from switching sides.  Well, actually, picking a side.  Not that he was a fence sitter – Far from it.  It was the fact that, for an independent party, he was just a little too opinionated.  They didn’t like that.  That he knew this encouraged Taylor to keep going.  The knowledge that he was his own boss and that he answered to no man kept his spirit alive.

'Cause I'll get on
All by myself.

The fact that, however, that he's now bandaged and holed up in a tiny little studio somewhere unimportant in Atlanta did have him thinking twice about whether or not life as a solitary man was truly worth it.  It's about now that the annoying GZW2K1Fanz guy tells Taylor to get ready.  Taylor sighs as he hears the last few chords of Audioslave's "I Am The Highway" begin to fade out signalling the beginning of a fifteen-minute timeslot of light banter and chitchat and...

"...You're LIVE with The Fanatic live on GZW2K1Fanz Radio, 33.3 FM.  You're in for a treat, fellow fanatics, as I've got none other than Lord Of The Freakin' Coliseum 2004, "The Lone Gunman" John Taylor here in the studio with me.  How the hell are you, my Lord?"

"Given the circumstances, I'm alright."

"I hate to say it, John, but you don't look it."

"Well that's why we're on radio, right?"  Asks Taylor with an insincere chuckle.  He notices that his own breath is, quite expectedly, a lot heavier than usual.  He's not too thrilled about it, really.

"You know it.  Good call, man.  Good call..."

To Taylor's absolute disgust, The Fanatic instigates something of an awkward silence.  He's about to wring the idiot's throat when he finally coughs it up.

"So, the slump's over?"

"What?"

"Your, uh...  'Losing Slump'.  'Downward Spiral'.  'Big Comedow'-"

"Enough.  It's all a work of fiction.  Over the past few months, the entire world thinks it has seen yours truly reach the absolute peak of the mountain and slowly begin a lacklustre descent.  It’s a sad thing to see, we're told from the get-go.  It’s always happened.  The bigger a star they are, their inevitable fall from grace is that much more pronounced.  It happened to “Smooth Operator” Billy Bond.  It happened to Sean “Magic” Fiery."

The Fanatic whets his overly dry lips, about to make a comment, when Taylor simply continues.

"...But it's not happening to me.  It won't.  It simply can't.  You want to know where this crap started, Fanatic?  For now, let's say it all began at Aftermath 2K4.  You were all told that a new road was to begin...  New, however, doesn't always mean 'prosperous'.  In fact, it was all just convenient wording.  If you were to read between the lines and see the subtext for what it truly refers to, it was all a plan to push me down a steep decline.  No word of a lie..."

"A plan...?  I'm not following."

"Yes, you are..."

"..."

"You don't know it, though.  Not one of you knows it.  But you're all following.  In fact, I would go as far as to say that following is all you're doing.  Not one GZW2K1Fan displays any indication as having a mind of it's own."

"It?"

"Shhh.  Just listen.  All of these accolades and awards that I earned in 2004...  It was unprecedented.  It was unexpected.  To be frank, it was too much, too soon.  And they don't want that.  They want the slow build-up.  The long haul.  They don't want a top man burning himself out simply because of overwork."

"I see where you're coming from, I mean it ha-"

"Do me a favour - Tell me when you're finished."

The Fanatic sighs, "As you wish, Lord Taylor..."

"Better.  Nobody before me had achieved so much in mere months.  I was the equivalent of constant nuclear threat.  I was a time bomb, a meltdown waiting to happen.  Sooner or later, the weight of GZW2K1 would become too great for my shoulders to carry and everything would come crashing down.  At least that's the way they saw it.  That's what led to all of this.  They were used to the 'stable' champions.  The 'long-haul' champions that would bend over backwards 'for the greater good of the company' as long as it meant title gold around their waist before the plug was pulled on their entire careers.  Yes, I'm talking about people like Pimp Bizkit.  Nathan Williams.  Billy Bond.  Whoever.  These are people that put in the 'hours' that, to be frank, I didn't.  It's the fact that the bitterness and sour grapes about all of that still exist that tell me that these people will never accept me as One Of Their Own."

"May I butt in?"

Now it's Taylor that sighs.  Unlike the Fanatic just moments earlier, though, Taylor stubbornly doesn't say a word.

"With all due respect, John, how can you say you'll never be accepted?  Look at yourself.  Look at who you are.  Look-"

"-Alright, enough of that game.  While I'll never have a T-Shirt printed proclaiming me as "The Show Stealer" like a certain ex-World Heavyweight Title contender, realistically I am that and so much more.  That's just fact.  Whether it's me picking apart an opponent, venting my frustration with the invisible red tape of this company's executive board or simply getting the crap kicked out me by another group of grunts, the fans tune in.  In order to fully account for the ratings my appearances get, some of them are probably turning on another TV Set in their houses and watching them both simultaneously.  Not since James "Monarch" Corbin has one man had such drawing power..."

The Fanatic all but gives up trying to get a word in.  He reclines back into his out-of-place sofa bed within the studio and just listens.

"And THAT'S what they can't handle.  They don't want another Monarch or a new and improved Monarch, no...  They want another Maxx Pain or Nathan Williams.  They want someone that'll be their lapdog for years-on-end in return for even a mere taste of the World Heavyweight Championship and a high-profile match or two.  But they won't get that from me, and they know it.  So they devise a plan.  A plot to ensure that GZW is safe for the long-term, and that John Taylor's prominence becomes a non-factor.  That's the red tape I was telling you about.  It had been planned for months beforehand, I'm sure of it, but it all came into fruition in the main event at Aftermath.  It's taken me nearly three months to figure it all out, but I've got it now."

Rather absently, the Fanatic ushers Taylor to "go ahead."

"The closing moments of Pimp Bizkit challenging John Taylor for the World Heavyweight Title," Taylor begins with a deep breath, "were a disgrace.  I've been saying that ever since.  But only recently have I realised that there was a lot more to it all than a simple layer of incompetence in the discipline department.  It wasn't that they were too lazy to come down to the ring and restart the match after Electric Sharpe had fun with a jam jar.  No, it wasn't that at all..."

Returning to an upright position, The Fanatic's ears clearly prick up at the prospect of some juicy insider gossip.  "Oh?"

"'Oh'.  They deliberately did nothing, Fanatic.  Just like the blind eye turned to the infamous fast-count in Hong Kong which led to Bane's abysmal HKWF Title run, they just left things as they were.  Knowing this Entity, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing was scripted."

"Are you insinuating that 'Buzzing' Electric Sharpe was told to come out and screw you, by the Command Suite?"

Suppressing his utter hatred for this now foaming-at-the-mouth Fanatic, Taylor answers with a big, fat "Maybe.  Even if he was acting on his own accord, the fact that it was simply let slide proves that somebody up there was looking to relieve me of a few duties."

"Why?"

"I was getting too far ahead.  There was no guarantee that I wouldn't be headhunted by a rival promotion or simply tire myself out...  There's no shortage of premature retirements in this business, but at least I would've retired a satisfied man, unlike a certain sore loser...  The point is that going into December, I had the GZW title, the HKWF title and the Lord Of The Coliseum crown.  On top of that, I was front runner for Wrestler Of The Year.  That was too much for one man to handle...  That was a whole main event scene's worth of accolades and as such, my wealth just had to be shared.  Handing my championship belts to Bane and Pimp Bizkit, in the eyes of the Entity, reduced the risk of a core meltdown.  Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Uh...  Yeah.  Of course...  So that was, like, your revelation or something?"

"I wouldn't put it like that, Fanatic.  I'm here to show the world how wrong it was at assuming that I would just roll over and die without my titles.  You see, the events at Aftermath didn't stop at Pimp's robbery of the belt.  In terms of the long haul, things didn't even start until after the match itself."

"When Sincere showed up?"

"When Sincere showed up.  In that show's main event, the live crowd had seen something so overwhelming that they simply couldn't comprehend it there and then.  It was a shock.  From the comfortable distance of the fifth row, it must've looked like The Lone Gunman's moment of doubt and shame after nearly a year of mind-blowing success...  It was in this stunned state that Sincere told them what they wanted to hear, before they even had the time to think about it and work it out for themselves.  What was nothing but a cheap win for Pimp took on a life of itself and gave the vermin something to latch on to, something minute with which to comfort themselves.  Wrestlers, fans, reporters, staff…  They all bought into it.  Like a cancer, it spread…"

“It was Sincere that said it, but it could’ve just as easily been Pimp Bizkit himself, Seth Richards or just a random fan.  It could've been even been you, Fanatic.  It wouldn’t have mattered so long as the message got out.  They saw Pimp Bizkit pin my shoulders to the mat after some disgraceful interference and subconsciously discovered that John Taylor was as human as anyone else…  But they were too stupid to come up with that for themselves.  They were too stupid to put in the effort to process the raw information and come up with a conclusion of their own.  They were too stupid, Fanatic, to see right through it for the scheming plot that it was!  Instead, they settled for Sincere and his generalised proclamation and took it as gospel.”

"I think you might be selling these fans a little short, Lord Taylor.  I mean, they're not stupid people..."

"Aren't they?  That's news to me.  They think respect is to throw out the sympathy cheer.  It's not.  Really, the audacity that some of them have to even-"

"I'd hardly call it 'audacity', John...  They're decent people doing what they feel is right - Cheering you on when you've got everyone from the Heretics to Sincere to Sean Fiery after your head."

"Tell me you don't honestly believe that.  When a rivalry is reduced to nothing more than an infinite game of ping-pong, something is wrong.  Going into the fourth World Heavyweight Championship match involving John Taylor and Pimp Bizkit, something was wrong.  There was no thrill anymore.  No challenge.  It was just the same old thing.  He cheats to win, I have to counteract it with a tag victory.  I beat him cleanly, he has to counteract that by having the Heretics jump me.  It got to a stage where I just stopped caring.  Pimp Bizkit didn’t excite me anymore.  The World Heavyweight Title didn’t even excite me anymore.  They weren't cheering for the right person...  They weren't cheering for some hero.  They were cheering for a man who had become sick and tired of being fucked in the ass by the Command Suite...  By those above even the Command Suite."

"I think we're falling away from the subject at hand, John.  Let's go back to this red-tape business for a moment.  You're saying that your position was snatched away from you, along with the World Heavyweight Championship.  In that case, why not revolt?  Why not get your lawyer involved and order that you be given your fair rematch?"

"Because, Fanatic, there was no point.  Beating a man for a title he never won in the first place carries no honour or distinction.  There is no class in pinning a man incapable of living up to the inanimate object over his shoulder 24/7...  It simply wasn't worth it to get back into it again.  I'm owed a title match, that's indisputable.  However, it matters not if that's against Pimp Bizkit or someone else, ten champions down the line.  I'll get my shot and I'll win.  It's as simple as that.  I'm just hanging back and biding my time, waiting for another poor bastard to come to the forefront to avert the Entity's attention.  It might be Bane, it might be Vyle.  God forbid it could even be Seven...  It really doesn't matter who it is.  The next champion will simply be there as a decoy and should know that the only reason they ever got to Pimp Bizkit and his beloved belt was because I allowed it.  I stepped aside.  We'll just have to wait and see who steps forth and takes the bait, then."

"Fair enough.  Speaking of Seven, I-"

"I dismissed that moron two months ago.  Moving on..."

"It's just that-"

"Moving on..."

"Right so...  Sean "Magic" Fiery.  Nobody saw his attack on you coming.  Tell me about it..."

"I saw it coming, Fanatic."

"...Serious?"

"Four months ago, when his blatant assault would've had the slightest bit of merit and justification.  I beat him at "At Our Best" to retain my titles and became Lord Of The Coliseum.  It was perhaps the toughest match I've ever been in, and certainly was a front-runner for Match Of The Year 2004...  I acknowledge that, regardless of what he says.  I've always acknowledged that.  But ultimately Magic became nothing but a forgettable supporting character to a main attraction quite capable of supporting himself.  Sure, he put in a commendable runners-up effort, but my 450 splash and subsequently inevitable victory marked the end of the line for Magic.  His 'appearance' at Destiny Fulfilled proves that he never got over the fact that I JUSTIFIABLY made an example out of him before, during and, perhaps most painfully, AFTER the match.  He thinks I should've shook his hand like a real man..."

"In all fairness, I don't think that was his exact wording..."

"Oh, please...  Read between the lines, you moron!  Whatever he says, he's a sore loser that was never cut out to be Lord Of The Coliseum.  It's no use jumping me from behind, after you've retired...  Months after the fact...  And then telling me that you would've done things differently.  You wouldn't have 'failed' like I did...  You would've respected it.  Bullshit.  You wanted it that much, you would've won the thing in the first place.  Simple as that.  I could write a book on what I would have done if Nathan Williams hadn't won the World title for Pimp Bizkit back in July...  Or what I would've done had I not been cheated out of both my World titles...  But I won't, because it's pointless.  Pimp Bizkit was never going to defend against or win the title from me fairly.  Had it not been at Return To Glory, it would've been at Collision Course.  I had no say in that, it was predestined.  The Lord Of The Coliseum, however, wasn't.  It was two independent parties going at it and was purely up to who wanted it more there and then..."

"NOT who would've done whatever after it was all said and done, but who was good enough to take it in the first place.  As such, you have no right to pass judgement on my reign as Lord.  If you had it in you to beat me in the final, you would've.  You say I stole your heart and desire...  I say you checked them at the door before ever walking out to face me.  You want to tell me about where I am now?  I'm above everyone on this roster, that's where I am.  At any given moment I could turn it on full blast once again and soar to even greater heights.  That might be next week, next month or right now.  Unless you're ready - or even close - to follow through on what you think you accomplished or proved at Destiny Fulfilled, then sit the fuck back down and just watch as I do it all again.  Destiny kicking me in the nuts might just have been a wake-up call, Sean.  Y'know, that little alarm that goes off inside your head telling you to get your act together and turn it up another fifty notches?  I sure hope you're already swimming when I decide to test the waters, Prom Queen.  Your move..."

His pride rebuilt a little after being called a moron moments ago, The Fanatic swoops in; "Interesting...  Speaking of surprises, John, can you honestly say you saw the emergence of "The Merciless Archangel", Gabriel, as Sincere's enforcer coming?"

"As I told the world at Destiny Fulfilled, I'm not a mind reader.  No, of course I didn't see it coming.  What possible reason would I have to warrant seeing it coming?  Into Gabriel, Sincere has transferred everything he needed from the M.I.A. Lord Deacon Kane, but what good will it do in the long-term?  They got one over on me on Sunday night at the cost of a DQ loss for Sincere.  Really, the question needs to be asked - 'What else is there for them to do?'"

"Are you sure that's a wise question to ask, John?"

"Wisdom doesn't come into it anymore, Fanatic.  It shouldn't be long until Gabriel questions what it is, exactly, that he is being employed to 'enforce'.  When that day comes, we'll really see what he's made of.  Until then, he's nothing but a much more able body than Sincere's own for the old man to carry out his pointless dirty work."

"Pointless?"

"You heard me.  I've made it crystal clear that I am not the downfall of GroundZero Wrestling 2K1 personified.  I am not the cancerous leech sucking the glory, honour and prestige out of this company and it's championships.  On the contrary, I am about the only good thing this company had going for 2004.  I am the saviour of this company.  Dispute it if you like, Sincere.  Choose to shrug it off and keep up the Ignorance Is Bliss shtick, Gabriel...  But it's true.  Without me and my ungrateful ways, GZW2K1 would be on permanent hiatus.  It took me to rebuild this company from the bottom up.  I withstood the tiresome verbal thrashings from Pimp Bizkit, Jimmy and Nathan Williams, Clancy McClean...  All of them calling me a quitter, putting me down over nothing and building themselves up over things so mundane as their nicknames and uneventful, unimportant title runs.  If it hadn't been for me breathing new life into this all-but-dead company, you'd all be stuck in an infinite time loop."

"If it wasn't for me, Jung-Lei, you wouldn't have a GZW2K1 to come back to and you wouldn't have a competitor like me to try to walk all over.  You shouldn't be berating me, you should be thanking me.  Praising me.  But I'm realistic...  I know that's not going to happen until we do the rounds and pass your tests...  You'll throw Gabriel at me...  Throw "SiDeShOw" SeAn and Mikey Mell at me...  You'll pick up more new blood for the Chaos Theory and feed them to me until, one day, you realise that you were wrong.  You realised that you confused a rock solid spirit for an ingrate.  You'll realise that I don't put these people down to make myself big, but because it's true.  You'll see that I'm a truly independent Lone Gunman and that I've been telling the truth all along...  And when you do, whether that's tomorrow or next year, you'll finally thank me." 

"I'm telling you, you will thank me..."

Rather conveniently, a 'crazy' alarm bell sounds signalling that the pair are just out of time.  The Fanatic, irritated that Taylor has taken his spotlight in his only time slot of the day, is quick to grab the last word, at the top of his lungs hollering that "WE'RE OUTTA TIIIIME!!!  For the Lone Gunman, Lord John Taylor, I've been the fantastic "Fanatic" on GZW2K1Fanz internet radio.  Stay tuned for an edgy monologue from the scariest and most evil "Wild Card" Eddie Knoxville Television Champion in GZW2K1 history - Seven."

The opening chords of Godsmack's "Awake" play as the two go off the air.  By the time the Fanatic is ready to tell Taylor to remove his headset, he's already gone.