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"A prince, therefore, must not have any other object nor any other thought, nor must he take anything as his profession but WAR, its institutions, and its discipline; because that is the only profession which befits one who commands; and it is of such importance that not only does it maintain those who were born princes, but many times it enables men of private station to rise to that position..."

Niccolo MACHIAVELLI
The Prince Chapter XIV

Our camera opens this time on an all-too-familiar urban landscape. Washington, DC. Home to millions, symbol to millions more, of the might of the United States, of its history, of its patriotic glory. But Washington symbolizes something meaner, something dirtier, as well. While former Speaker of the House Tip O'Neill remarked that "all politics is local", it all boils down to this place. The Capitol. The White House. The Pentagon. Langley. K Street. The museums, dwarfed by drab institutional-chic office buildings spewing their human cargo at the end of every workday, and early on Fridays. This is a Friday. Onslaught has ended. The MCI Center, which throbbed with the excitement only possible with an EWA show (I mean, let's be honest. The Wizards? The Caps? The Hoyas? WCW? I mean, only the WWF can even come close, and they don't have the "hometown" heroes that EWA has. But I digress...) Hoyakillah and Hexane were helped out at the end of Onslaught, having gone toe to toe with the Entropy, but being caught undermanned with the emergence of Nonz. So where do we find our protagonists tonight? Atop a towering office building? ....No. Those don't exist in DC. At some scummy college bar? ...Well, as entertaining as that might seem, sorry, no. Instead, our camera pans across the Potomac River, to the Virginia side. Arlington... no, not Crystal City. Hoya doesn't usually go into that part of the DC metro area unless he's flanked by armed guards. Rather, just outside Crystal City. Not Alexandria -- Hoya's hometown, of course. And not the Arlington National Cemetary. In the midst of all this... Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. There's a parking lot and field north of the airport, known as Gravelly Point, before the 14th Street Bridge, that artery which pumps the traffic of I-395 and Route 1 into the Nation's Capital. The overhead camera catches two men walking on the river's edge, as the planes travel overhead, coming into final approach, all those damned tourists coming in to gape, slack-jawed, at the majesty of their local Marriott hotel. Hoya and Hexane walk, alone, possibly oblivious, or perhaps indifferent. Surprisingly, for a Friday night, there are no used cars or SUVs in the parking lot filled with high school kids, pumped because they managed to get ahold of a six-pack and a couple joints, thinking it would be cool to be like Wayne and Garth. No, there are a couple black cars in the parking lot, but we can suppose that those belong to Hoya. Finally, after having soaked all this in, the camera finally zooms in on Hoya and Hexane, walking along the river.

Hoya: We fucked up.

Hexane: (struggling to make his voice heard over the roar of a 737) Come again?

Hoya: We fucked up. We didn't anticipate that all this could come together to cause us problems. It all goes back to that kid Kayfabe.

Hexane: Please, Hoya. Please let me take care of him. And then, I can go after that punk Hampton, and win the World Title, and really bring some prestige to us.

Hoya: (hand on Hexane's shoulder, as the taller man bends down to listen) Patience, my boy. There are wheels in motion of which you need not be informed. Now come on, let's get out of here.

The two walk over to a waiting semi-stretch black Lexus, where a waiting aide has the door open. The two climb in, as Clockwatcher is waiting for them in the back. With a BMW 525i in lead, and a Jeep Grand Cherokee chasing (all black, of course) the motorcade pulls out of Gravelly Point onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. The cars dart through traffic, ignoring the occasional blast of a horn from some jackass congressman from South Dakota who previously declared the Parkway his personal driving domain. The cars loop through two separate merges, then get onto Route 50. Often, we have seen Hoya, or Healius, or Falstaff, or someone, going here, then catching the merge into Rosslyn and possibly Georgetown. But this time, the motorcade stays on Route 50, going past Rosslyn into Arlington. Taking the exit at George Mason Drive, the three cars pull into the National Foreign Affairs Training Center. The scene cuts to a shot inside the back of the limo, where our three protagonists are sitting.

Clock: Umm... why are we here?

Hoya: Lots of space to work. Plus, I know the owner.

Back outside, and we see the motorcade speed through the gates, into the compound. The expansive parking lot is now empty for the weekend -- foreign service officers being first and foremost bureaucrats, 8 PM on a Friday night, especially the Friday of Labor Day weekend, is no time to be at the office. The three cars pull into the parking lot. The trunk of the Cherokee opens up, and one of the aides starts typing in instructions into a laptop sitting there. As Hoya, Hexane and Clockwatcher get out of the car, a helicopter is seen in the distance, circling in a lazy racetrack over head, but not directly overhead.

Hexane: (pointing at the chopper) What's that for?

Hoya: I don't like to be bothered. Hoya removes his jacket and throws it back in the car, wincing at the lingering pain from a bad landing on his left shoulder at Onslaught. Hexane is also slow in moving about.

Hexane: How many reps are we going to be doing, boss?

Hoya: (staring) Who told you to call me boss? Then, as quickly as it appeared, the stare disappears. We'll go light this evening. We both took a substantial amount of damage back at the MCI.

Clock: I can't believe that Nonz would side with Falstaff and Kayfabe.

Hoya: He's jealous. Pure and simple. I took Kalli from him, and now that he can't have her, he wants to get rid of me for doing it to him, but he also wants to get rid of her. Didn't you see him attack her on Onslaught? For about 15 milliseconds... no, just ten... maybe five, I'm not sure... I actually felt sorry for her.

Hexane: (slightly incredulous) Really?

Hoya: Of course not. Bitch deserved it. But I am surprised to see Nonz stoop to that sort of level. Tragic, almost. I feel like we should don togas and stand in the background as some sort of Greek chorus, while Oedipus Nonz destroys his life.

Clock: So Hoya, why exactly are we out here?

Hoya: It's quite simple, to be blunt. We are now at war. And the first cardinal rule of warfare is to train hard.

Hexane: Why? We already know we can beat them!

Hoya: (snapping around like an arrow loosed from its bow) Then why the fuck didn't we win on Onslaught?

Hexane: (blanching as he did in Hoya's office) I'm... I'm sorry... I... I misspoke...

Hoya: Yeah, you did. Which is why we're here, not off at Cow Chemical or something. We must be the best, in order to beat them. It doesn't matter if individually we are the best. Right now, all of EWA is opposed to us. They drew in Nonz... who next? Healius? Hampton? PPV? Kallista? Who knows? For now, we have to assume that it's us against all of them.

Clock: What do you mean, for now?

Hoya: Well, at some point, EWA is going to realize that we here are the leaders of EWA. And Lee Iacocca had it right when he talked about leadership. You either lead, you follow, or you get the fuck out of the way. We ARE the leaders. The superstars of EWA will either follow under us, or they'll get the fuck out of the way.

Hexane: You think we're going to have some kind of faction?

Hoya: Stranger things have happened. I have some... thinking to do on the subject. We shall see.

Clock: So what should we do out here?

Hoya: Well, we need to work on moveset. Hexane groans. You want that to happen to you again? How many magic elixirs are going to save you when you start losing internal organs, huh? First of all, I've seen you practicing the 3624. Stop.

Hexane: What?

Hoya: It's not a smart move for you to be using. You should be focusing on your power set. For example, remember what we did to Bartlett a couple weeks ago in Richmond?

Hexane: Yeah, that was sweeeet.

Hoya: I want that move incorporated into our arsenal. You execute the Hoya-Bomb, and I'll take the 3624 down. You see, that focuses on our specialties. Also, I want you working on more submission moves. You and I will work on double teams as well.

Clock: And me? Hoya walks up to Clock and tenderly caresses her on the cheek.

Hoya: I want you to use the computer network here to put together profiles on everyone here in EWA, particularly, susceptibilities to persuasion, bribery... even blackmail.

Hexane: You're going recruiting?

Hoya: No. Shopping. So, Clock, you'll do that for me... right?

Clock: Umm... yeah, sure. I'll get right on it.

Hoya: Good girl.

A quick kiss, then Clock turns and walks into the NFATC complex. Hoya immediately spins back at Hexane, who shrugs his shoulders, grabs a bag out of the trunk of the Lexus, and carries it to the NFATC gymnasium. Hoya pulls a cell out of his pocket, flips it open, and talks in it for a moment. He flips it closed, then removes a vial of pills, of which he downs two or three. Putting both back in his pocket, he turns to the field, and looks out, as the camera pulls back. The helicopter comes into focus, flying intercept patterns over the NFATC. Further back, and things start to get blurry. Darker, as well -- it may be a big metropolitan area, but it's night, as well. Finally, the silence overcomes everything, and the camera fades to black.