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Midnight. A beach, barely discernible by the light of the stars, and from some houses, in the background. A close inspection reveals it to be the Hamptons... not a bad place to be walking in the middle of the night. The stars are twinkling overhead, some moving faster than others -- those being the planes carrying the hopes and dreams of people across the world. A couple of drunken couples are seen stumbling up from the beach to the waiting houses, where the debauchery of the nouveau riche awaits. Is this supposed to be beautiful? A beach, created by Nature, now covered with the greatest predator of all... 20th century Modern Man. It's doubtful that the Deity had drunken Manhattanites in mind when he ordained this. And yet, it stands. Unlike the south, hurricanes rarely threaten this part of the world. Maybe they should. Maybe it would serve as a wake up call, a call to action, to prayer, to a real sort of life. In life, oftentimes, we are walking asleep, and we need a wake-up call, just like those hedonistic New Yorkers. Or like some of us ourselves. Like the man who's standing knee-deep in the rising surf, as it pounds against him, oblivious to the damage to his clothing. There are a pair of oxford shoes and socks sitting on the beach, but otherwise, the man is fully clothed. A suicide? If so, would he not be approaching the depths? A dreamer? Then why stand? As the camera approaches, yes, it is dark, but the man reaches into a pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it, and in the flash, we see Hoyakillah. His eyes are bloodshot, yet his face impassive. His hands shake a little when lighting the cigarette, but his breath is steady. A contradiction in terms? Perhaps. But hasn't Hoya always been a contradiction in terms? His tenure with the Southern Gentlemen, and at the same time his relationship with Kallista. His fights with Healius. The things backstage that no one saw in front of the cameras -- the breakdowns, the confessions, the crippling doubts and problems. The camera moves directly behind Hoya, almost as if looking through his eyes out into the ocean. And in the sky, one can almost see a shooting star dive into the sea, like the wings of Icarus too close to the Sun. It appears that Hoya is muttering some sort of mantra, again and again under his breath. But the crashing surf, not to mention the cigarette in his mouth and Hoya's normal deep, somewhat muddled voice (when not cutting a promo) make it incomprehensible. A drag, and an exhale. A flick, and the soft sound of the hot ash sizzling as it meets the cold water; a different sizzle from the sound of the water pulling back from the beach... yet, oddly similar. Another deep drag. And a third. At this point, the cigarette is more than halfway done. Hoya exhales deeply, and takes the cigarette out of his mouth. He holds it in front of him. Both eyes focused on it. The cigarette comes closer... closer... the orange ember glowing like the fires of Hephaestus. Then, in a motion, the cigarette slips out of his hands, drops into the water harmlessly, and sizzles out. Hoya inhales deeply, taking in the salt air, so pungent you can almost smell it yourself watching. He then turns, and walks, simply, back to the shore. The undertow has no effect, although it seems to pull at his now-wet clothes, pulling him back to the ocean, pulling him back to no avail. He walks down the beach, barefoot, leaving his shoes to whoever wants them. After about a minute or two of walking, silently, he turns, and heads up toward one of the houses, where the lights are still on. A door is open, and he steps through. While the first room was light, the second is dark, except for red laser beams traversing the room. Out of his pocket, a remote. One click, and the lasers are off, the lights come on, albeit low, and a stereo system starts playing. "With Or Without You" by U2. But Hoya looks over at the stereo, and walks over to it, and presses a different button. The CD immediately changes to the Police. Synchronicity. Side 2, to be precise. "King of Pain." Hoya sits down in a wooden chair in the middle of the room, and looks over at the wall. Blank, white. The lights near the wall are darkened. Another button pressed, and the previously unseen projector built into the ceiling starts broadcasting images onto the wall as the music plays. The Brawl For It All. Handheld video of Hoya in the gorilla position during the end of the Brawl. The smile on his face as Nonz gets ready to go... and the call from Derrick. The Executive Committee meeting before WrestleFest 2000, where Hoya resigned from the ExComm. Silicon Toad's departure from LWN, after having become one of Hoya's many "proteges" Backstage fighting between Hoya and Kallista... over everything... The breakup of LWN... the loss of everything... the posts, the shows, everything... The return to EWA... the great expectations... and the backlash... Kayfabe's lashing out... Dude Hate at Assault and Battery... Nonz... Falstaff as Tony Bartlett... The images start to swim together. Finally, a shot is shown of Hoya at the end of Massive. Then, the projector snaps off. The CD mutes itself, and Hoya stands from the hard, wooden chair, and walks out to the bay windows overlooking the Atlantic. No alcohol. No white powder. Just Hoya, alone with his thoughts.

Hoya: Alone. As always, alone.

He pushes open one of the windows, as the breeze hits his face.

Hoya: Rumors. Always with the rumors. Allegations of drug use. Homosexuality. A "fake" Nonz. (shaking his head) Standard operating procedure would be to just say "No comment" to everything, but then they assume it's true. How to deal... how to deal...

As Hoya stares out, his eyes fix for a moment. They don't glaze over, exactly, but it's as if one can see the computer screens coming on in his mind. It's a look no one has seen from him in a long time, but those who know him know the look very well -- Hoya going into "computer" mode.

Hoya: Fake Nonz. Deny. The son of a bitch is irrational anyway. Makes sense. Drug use. Deny. But keep it close to hand -- a blanket denial has appearances of a coverup. Homosexuality? (chuckles for a moment) I can't even get ass from a guy. Much less a woman. That's just funny.

The computer look stays on his face. Is this a more rational Hoya than we have been seeing?

Hoya: So... what to do? What to do? What to do?

And for a moment, that computer look is complemented by a glint... yes, THAT glint in his eye.

Hoya: Divide and conquer. Simple as that. Dude Hate against Healius. Eclypse against Kallista. Kayfabe against Healius thanks to Eclypse. Falstaff against Healius thanks to Kallista. Nonz against Healius thanks to Kallista, and Nonz against Falstaff thanks to Kallista. Kallista against Hampton thanks to Healius. Healius against Hampton thanks to Kallista. PPV against Healius and Nonz thanks to Kallista. Yes... yes... that will do nicely.

Hoya turns from the sea, and walks about the room, circling the wooden chair, his barefoot footseps thudding dead on the bare wood floor.

Hoya: The rumors of my demise have been... quite exaggerated... We need to recenter... focus, Hoya, focus... a plan... a plan... but how? ...use and abuse. Of course. I need to make a call or two...

Hoya reaches over to the wall and pulls off a cordless phone, and hits the speed dial.

Hoya: Hex? Listen carefully. I want you to find out the next time Medea is open. ...Yes ,that's right. Find out.

Hoya hangs up, and reaches into his pocket. Out of his wallet he pulls what appears to be a half-burned picture... of Kalli? and someone? Is it Hoya?

Hoya: Alone... I hate being alone.

With that, Hoya walks out of the room, out of the house, to a waiting car, as the camera fades to midnight