[Despayre]

 Las Vegas, Nevada

Nineteen days since the last Supercard of SCW, Blaze of Glory VI. That was just over two weeks, closer to three if we're going to be technical. All that time between then and now, since the championship match where Despayre had successfully retained his Internet Championship by defeating Xander Bishop and Calvin Harris in a Triple Threat match. Oh how close Despayre came to losing his title through no fault of his own, when at one point or another, Xander and Calvin came close to besting the other. That was, in actuality, the downside of a Triple Threat where the champion was concerned; he or she could lose their title without even being involved in the actual decision. And Calvin did come the closest to dethroning Despayre, thus ending his six month plus reign, if it were not for one important factor; he had simply forgotten Despayre was even involved for the briefest amount of time. And that one moment was all the time in the world that Despayre needed to break up the pin attempt of Calvin Harris, and instead walk away with the victory over Xander Bishop himself.

Of course, afterwards Xander claimed that somehow he had been screwed out of the win and the title, but that was the usual excuse with no answer for men who believed that success should be given to them on a silver platter. But despite that immature line of thinking, at least he didn't take the coward's way out like Calvin did who had simply stomped off like a child throwing a temper tantrum and Harris had yet to be seen anywhere that was not Twitter. Well, good riddance to him!

Still, nineteen days was a long time between matches, but the time off had been welcome to Despayre who was now sitting in his upstairs hidey-hole, also known to his friends and family as his bedroom. With all this glorious time off between championship defenses, he had more time to do some of the things he enjoyed doing, which was difficult with the demanding schedule of a champion of Sin City Wrestling. He'd been to the zoo twice, and to one of the local aquariums on the Vegas Strip. He had been taken to the movies multiple times to enjoy films he had been greatly looking forward to; everything from "Kong: Skull Island" and "Power Rangers" and even "Beauty and the Beast."

Plus there was all the work he had to put in for his favorite single day of the year, April 1! Those closest to him knew their Despy had a bit of a playful and mischievous side to him where practical jokes were concerned. His relationship with the elderly neighbor was evidence enough to the fact. But April Fools Day was just a day where one could cut loose and have fun, and those closest to Despayre could only brace themselves and wait for what was to come.

Hm, I wonder if Gabriel ever found his swimming pool? Ah well...

And of course, he was able to visit his friends and family to his heart's content. During his time off between bookings, he had been a regular almost every day at either his mother and grandmother's house or Gabriel and Odette's -- and in some cases, both! The mailman was practically a nervous wreck, having to deal with Despayre as an adversary and privately hoping that sooner rather than later, he would be back on the road with SCW again. And, of course, there were his regular visits to the mean ol' neighbor, Missus O'Heaney. He would have ran over every day to say hi and hang out with her, but his father was adamant that he give the woman a bit more privacy so he did -- and went over just every other day. She had yet to object, and why would she? Despayre was an absolute delight! Why, she had even had him stay a time or two for the evening meal and showed him the same two movies she had appeared in, in the late fifties, the very same ones she had shown him once before. He had asked to see them a third time but she had put her foot down, at least for the time being. Too much of a good thing he supposed.

In fact, it was the house of Missus O'Heaney just down the road that Despayre was keeping a close watch on. He was seated in his bedroom, his heiney on the bed while his chin was propped on the window sill and he gazed through a pair of binoculars at the two story Victorian style homestead. The few other houses in their street were more modern in design, but Missus O'Heaney's house had an old and elegant charm to it. Despayre would have stepped outside to get a closer look, but he had been down with a cold the past few days, one of those nagging spring colds that really sap you of your energy. So his dad had made him remain indoors for the duration, until he was all better. So he had to find some ways to amuse himself, besides listening in on random phone calls. So if he was unable to keep a close eye on the neighbor in person, he could at least do so from a distance -- just like James Bond!

But just to be clear, he was not nosey. Heavens, no! But that new car that was in Missus O'Heaney's drive had piqued his curiosity, just as did the stranger who had emerged from it and been inside her house for almost two hours now. Suspicious. V-E-R-Y suspicious! That was when the thought hit him; it wasn't chilly out. It was actually a very nice eighty degrees, and just a few clouds in the sky. So maybe...

"Lord Raab." Synn said from his office, seated behind the large desk carved from cherry wood, the polish always kept impeccable and the surface organized and free from clutter. The fax had been sent just five days ago from the SCW home office, letting Synn know who would be next in line for a championship challenge against his son, and when. It was not entirely unexpected, as Raab's desire for the Internet title was well known in the locker room, but the interest was high as this would actually be the first-ever encounter inside of the ring between Despayre and his masked challenger. The fact alone was surprising as Despayre was the veteran of SCW, despite his young age, having been there on the roster since day one. And Lord Raab had been active since October of 2014. How they had not met before this weekend was beyond Synn's comprehension, but the fact that it was a fresh face, and a fresh challenger, to his son was in fact welcome -- despite Raab's propensity and reputation towards violence. After all, Despayre had just recently had two classic and brutal encounters against Shipman. What could Raab throw at Despayre that Shipman had not -- and his son successfully walked away from?

"How exactly did Raab get a championship match?" Gabriel asked on the other end of the call. "Don't get me wrong, Raab is quality and Ben has been working hard with him, but didn't the fella just drop a tag title match a few weeks back?"

Synn answered, "And one not that long before that, in fact. But his stock is still relatively high, given his status as a former World Champion. Singles or tag, Raab is a legitimate contender."

"You worried?" Gabriel asked.

"No, but I won't lie and say I hadn't hoped another show or two wouldn't pass before Joshua had another defense. Kid's had a rough go of it lately with the defenses he's put in."

"And walked away from." Gabriel added with a note of pride in his voice for his Despy's penchant for walking away a winner more often than not. "But you're right. Two back to back matches against Shipman and then Bishop and Harris at once. Raab likes to play rough so this one won't be no cake walk." Gabriel paused before he asked, "How is Despy, anyway? Still feeling it?"

"More or less, he's fine." Synn answered. "I think he might still be a tad sore and still has that kink in his neck, but the time off did him a world of good as far as recovery. He has a way of enduring some beatings in the ring, but there's only so much someone his diminutive size can handle."

"He can handle Raab." Gabriel said. "The guy has to be too used to tag team matches as of late, where as Despy has gotten used to singles instead of the other way around."

"True." Synn said. "Joshua still is no fan of singles competition, but at least he..."

*BAM!*

"What the bloody hell was that!?" Gabriel asked aloud, as if he needed to. The office door had been swung open in its usual manner without the benefit of knocking, and into the office Despayre leapt with enthusiasm and a smile.

"Oh it's Joshua."

"Ah, of course."

"I just wanted to let you know I'm gonna go investiga,er, visit Missus O'Heaney!" That statement being said, Despayre did a U-turn and was about to dash out as quickly as he had made his entrance were it not for his father's barking command of "Stop right there!"

"Rats!" Despayre snapped his fingers and turned around, looking both hopeful and expectant. Synn murmured into the phone, "I'll call you back." And he clicked the phone off and focused on his son to say, "You're sick. You're not going anywhere."

"I'm fine!" Despayre stressed, his arms held out and his best smile on his face. "I'm in tip tope shape!"

"You're fine?"

"Yup!"

"Tip top shape?"

"Tip top!"

"Then why, may I ask, are you still having Theresa and myself doing everything for you?"

"Honestly?" Despayre smiled, handed clasped behind his back and rocking on the balls of his feet. "It tickles me."

Synn stared at his son, his mouth halfway open to respond but found, much to his own consternation, that he had no rebuttal in which to offer his son. After a few moments had passed, Synn pointed toward the door with his forefinger and said, "Go. But if you get sick again or get her sick, don't come running to me."

"Okay!" And he dashed out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Then a split second later, he opened it once again and leaned in with a smile just long enough to declare, "I'll go running to mom." And shut the door behind him, leaving Synn staring off into space and shaking his head.

"It tickles him..."



"HelllLLlLoooOooo Missus O'Heaney!" Despayre cried out as the front door of his elderly neighbor's house swung open and he made his usual energetic entrance! He bounded inside, and the dog that guarded the property made its usual response -- by whining audibly and taking off running in the opposite direction!

"What the...?" Came a strange voice from inside, most likely the man whom Despayre had watched enter the house and who had yet to emerge. But Despayre came running in and skidded to a halt at the sight before him, as boxes were scattered about with many of the prized trinkets and knick knacks of the lady of the house carefully placed inside and wrapped protectively in brown paper and/or bubble wrap.

The aforementioned man stood up from the seat he had taken, near to Missus O'Heaney herself who resided in her usual chair, both looking over what appeared to be some form of document. The man was older than him, looking to be in his early fifties perhaps? And he wore a simple, gray business suit. Despayre frowned at the mystery man as the man himself frowned at this intrusion, and without thinking, both blurted out the same thing in the same time, "Who are you!?"

"Jinx! You owe me a Coke!" Despayre declared, and the man frowned and questioned, "What??"

"Coke." Despayre pointed toward the kitchen. "Now."

"I do not keep Coke in my home." Missus O'Heaney stated, causing Despayre to blink and look at the man to say, "What an odd thing to say!"

"Aunt Colleen..." The man turned to Missus O'Heaney. "Who is this?"

"I'm her friend." Despayre answered before she had the chance to do so for herself. "Who're you!?"

"I'm her nephew." Came the answer and Despayre rolled his eyes.

"You are not." He answered. "Missus O'Heaney doesn't have any family."

"That's enough." Missus O'Heaney snapped, ending the little debate between the two men. She turned her head to the man and said, "Arthur, this is the young man who has been visiting me, Joshua."

"Her friend!" Despayre added with his chin jetted out as if to add a silent "So there!"

"Yes." Missus O'Heaney murmured, then looked at Despayre and said, "And despite your contrary, this is my nephew, Arthur."

"Oh." Despayre turned to give the man a smile and a wave of the hand. "Hi!" He then paused as he caught a further note of interest, that most of her framed photographs were no longer on the wall, and most of the surfaces that had various pictures and such that she had regaled him with stories with, were now no longer present. He turned his head and leaned over to peak inside of a box and recognized one or two things before he turned his attention to Missus O'Heaney and her nephew who asked briskly, "Can we help you with something?"

"No." Despayre shook his head, but whatever was happening here gave him a sense of dread in the pit of his belly. Something he did not like, which would include this man. He was Missus O'Heaney's nephew, but at first sight Despayre did not like him. He just wasn't sure why. He looked at Missus O'Heaney and fidgeted, "What's going on? Are you moving your treasures to storage or something?"

"No." Came her answer. "I'm just moving."

And there it was; the reason behind that dreaded chill that settled in his tummy. He found his hands on his slim belly, massaging his stomach without conscious effort as his brow furrowed into a worried state. "What? But ... why?"

"I think the more appropriate question is why I waited so long." She sighed and dropped a stack of papers back into the table and settled back in her favorite chair. Her eyes went from Arthur to Despayre and she shook her head, "It's no secret that I am not well liked in this neighborhood..."

"That's not true!"

"Don't interrupt." She snapped, and whatever Despayre wanted to say otherwise was brought to an immediate halt. He bit his lip as she said, "And it is true and you well know it. I've lived in this house for over thirty years and made no friends. Why should I stay where nobody likes me..."

"But I like you!" Despayre cried, not liking where this was going. Missus O'Heaney couldn't move away. She just couldn't! Much to his surprise, and that of her as well, Missus O'Heaney didn't reprimand him for another interruption. She simply looked at the young man who had taken it upon himself to make her let him into her life. Most young people avoided the elderly like they had something that was catching. This young man? All he wanted was to know more and more about her, which was something she had never quite understood.

"Thank you." She answered crisply. She exhaled, and then added, "And you've been a well behaved young man, too." Despayre smiled, his back going just a bit straighter, but that did not last long as he could see something was wrong. She sighed and spoke again, "But I think Arthur here is right. I'm an old woman, and whatever years I have left should be with family."

Despayre shifted his eyes to the man who was looking everywhere but at his aunt which set off Despayre's inner alarm bells, but why he had no idea. His gray eyes went back to the elderly woman who he thought so highly of and he finally found his voice, "You're really leaving me, aren't you?"

God help her, the bottom lip of Colleen O'Heaney trembled just a bit before she drew in a deep breath to steady herself and she nodded. "I am." And before she could add anything further, she found herself enveloped in a fierce embrace from the young man. She stiffened, unused to such displays of affection from anyone save for her dearly departed husband. But somehow, her own hands slowly and perhaps clumsily returned the embrace, even if but for a moment. And once she had separated herself from Despayre, she looked up to him and said, "And I need you to go get your father for me."

"My dad?" Despayre frowned. "Why?"

"Because you told me he works in real estate." She answered, and Despayre nodded and said, "He does."

"Fine." She noted the papers in front of her with her fingers in a casual wave. "Then best he be the one to sign these as a witness." She looked up at him and added, "And you as well. Just as witnesses to make it official."

"Make what official?"

"Transferring the deed of the house to me." Arthur answered. "So I can handle the sale while my aunt moves in with me and my family."

"Oh." Despayre said almost pitifully. He quickly wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and started to turn, almost half-heartedly hoping she would try to stop him. "I-I'll go get him..."



"Before Joshua and I sign this..." Synn stated as he sat on the chair offered to him. "... are you certain this is what you want?"

"Of course this is what she wants." Arthur answered, a frown on his face which only grew deeper when Synn turned to look at him and he stated, "I think your Aunt is quite capable of speaking for herself, thank you."

The caustic statement was met with a smile, quickly smothered, by Despayre. And if the young man's eyes did not deceive him, he would swear that the corners of Missus O'Heaney's mouth had turned up as well before she returned to her usual scowl. She did not look at Arthur, but at Synn and she nodded in the affirmative.

"I'm sure."

To that, Synn could just nod and he proceeded to scrawl his name on the provided line, marking himself as the legal witness to this deed transfer. Then, the paper was slid before Despayre on the coffee table and the pen held out to him, but Despayre just stared down at the paper and he closed his eyes.

"Joshua..." Synn started to say, but he heard the sniff from his son and he truly felt for his son. Somehow, in some strange way, Despayre had truly taken a liking to the woman who was disliked almost universally in their neighborhood, and somehow the feelings appeared to be mutual, even if Missus O'Heaney did not express so verbally. "... Joshua."

Despayre's eyes opened and a stream of tears slid from them and down his cheek, clear to his chin where they pooled gently in the cleft. He drew in a shaky breath and looked at the old woman and he sobbed, "But I don't want you to leave."

Missus O'Heaney turned her head away to avoid his eye contact, perhaps feeling for the first time the feelings of love and acceptance from someone in all these long years. She just did not know how to respond or reciprocate. She was too old and too set in her ways to change now. All she could do is force herself to look at him and say gently, "Please don't make this any harder than it is, Joshua." The first time she had actually used his given name. "Just ... just sign the papers. ... Please."

Despayre's eyes closed again and his bottom lip trembled with a fresh wave of emotion, but when he opened his eyes, his cheeks once again became stained with tears as he forced himself to quickly sign the paper before he could will himself to stop.

"Thank you." Missus O'Heaney said simply, and Arthur nodded as he stood up, accepting the paper from Synn's hand.

Arthur said without looking at it, "Yes, thank you. It's well to finally get this business over." he looked around at the boxes and said, "Now I'll see about getting someone over here next week to finish your packing. Then we can go about moving you and getting you settled into Montara Meadows."

That statement alone drew Missus O'Heaney's head up, as it did Synn who frowned.

"What?" Missus O'Heaney asked. "What are you talking about?"

Synn leaned over at the waist, his forearm perched on his thigh as he gave this man a scrutinizing gaze. "I thought you were moving your Aunt in with you and your family."

"Yeah!" Despayre added hotly, but Arthur shook his head. "No. I said I would have her moved where she could be taken care of. I said she needed to be with family, but we don't have room in my house."

"No.." Missus O'Heaney blanched, her already pale flesh losing hat color it had. All her life she had been a strong and independent woman, taking care of herself. This ... this she simply could not fathom. Would not accept!

"Aunt Colleen..." Arthur started to say but his aunt interrupted him.

"I said no!" She snapped. "I am not about to be moved into some retirement home full of old people who do nothing but watch TV, play canasta and sleep! Absolutely not!"

"Aunt Colleen!" Arthur barked with an authorative tone, and only Synn's strong grip on his arm was able to pull Despayre back down to his seat and not jump to his friend's defense. Even Missus O'Heaney flinched as her nephew said, "You need to be given proper care! You can't do so while living alone like you do."

"I've done all right for most of my life!" Missus O'Heaney declared. "And I do have my nurse who stops in!"

"But what if something happens when she's not here?" Arthur asked.

"Don't give me that tripe!" Missus O'Heaney shook her head. "This isn't about me or my care, is it? This is about the house. You just want my house, is that it? To move into as soon as you get rid of the old woman? Or maybe to sell so that you can make a nice commission and pad your bank account!"

"That is not..." Arthur started to say but was interrupted by his Aunt slamming the end of her cane down into the hard wood floor of her parlor and she picked it up and pointed it directly in his face.

"You sniveling little..." She snarled. "You show up after all these years, playing the role of the good nephew and this is what you do to family!? Well I will. Not. Have it! I am not moving, and that is final!"

And now the ugly nature of her nephew was revealed for all three of them to see as he sneered, and held up the contract of sale with a smug and triumphant expression on his face. He said, "No, Aunt Colleen. You are moving, and that is final! This is a legally binding document, signed by all present."

Arthur held up the paper and read it off as a matter of fact, "Signed by myself, Arthur O'Heaney, and you, Colleen O'Heaney." He then added insult to injury and swept the paper in Synn and Despayre's direction while reading, "And signed by witnesses, Synn and Daffy Duck... Daffy Duck!?"

Arthur's eyes stared in disbelief at the signature on the dotted line... 'Daffy Duck'... He looked up at his Aunt, then at Synn ... and as one, all three adults slowly turned their heads to Despayre who's eyes rose to the ceiling and pursed lips as he whistled in a see through attempt at innocence. A look that nobody was buying. Despayre then lowered his eyes to find Arthur's boring into him and Despayre just smiled at him -- and waved idly with his fingers.

"You..." Arthur started to say as he kept looking back and forth between Despayre and the signature. "You..."

"I would think things over very carefully before you say another word." Synn said in a dangerous whisper, always the protective father figure.

Missus O'Heaney cleared her throat and said, her words directed towards Synn, "I am not an authority on matters of real estate, but given the forged signature on this contract...?"

"Renders it immediately null and void." Synn answered for her before she could finish her question. At that, Missus O'Heaney turned in her chair to her nephew and pointed toward the foyer with her cane. "Out. Now!" She commanded him.

"I'll contact a lawyer..." He started to say but Synn shook his head.

"Give it up." Synn said. "You'll be laughed out of court, especially given your deception ... in front of two witnesses I might add." He then added with a smile, "But if you decide to press the issue, I feel it only fair to let your Aunt know that I'd be glad to loan her my lawyer's services. And she would take you and this case apart."

Missus O'Heaney had her focus on her nephew, but these words drew her eyes to Synn who winked at her. Someone, almost a complete stranger ... was standing up for her? Protecting her from her unscrupulous relation without her even asking for aid. Before she could say anything, Despayre turned in his seat and called out, "Here Pongo!"

And the clatter of nails of the hard floor heralded the arrival of the German Shepard that "guarded" the house, only this time the dog did not run at the sight of Despayre. He instead focused immediately on Arthur and started barking viciously in his direction! Arthur held up a stalling hand and backed up a step, but this just made the dog advance and bark even harder! As he passed him, Synn casually reached up and snatched the contract from his hand.

"Call... call him off!" But Arthur did not even wait as he turned his back and hurried as fast as he could, with Pongo chasing after him, barking the entire way! Out of the parlor, through the foyer and they all heard the slamming of the front door. A moment later, there was the sound of Arthur's car being started and tearing out of the drive.

Only then did Missus O'Heaney breath a sigh of relief, giving herself the luxury before she propped her cane against the floor and slowly pushed herself to her feet. As she started around the coffee table and their general direction, probably to take the sales contract from them, Synn started to say, "If he gives you any trouble, tell me. My offer was..."

But his words were silenced gently as he watched the 'meanest' woman in their neighborhood envelope his son in her arms in the only way she knew in how to thank him for saving her home -- and her.



A fuzzy and familiar (and might we add utterly adorkable) face filled the screen, full center, with a pair of thick eye glasses perched on its nose, the lenses magnifying its dark eyes many times over their normal size.

"Hewwo! Will you be my fwiend?"

**Annnnnnd CUE the corn ball theme music and even cornier lyrics to one of those jingles that just seemed to burn its way into your mind...**

"He's the bear that's cute and smart!
His knowing wisdom comes from the heart!
And if the question is dumb, made by a schlep,
He'll toss out the facts and make it ep, er -- up!

Announcer: Ladies! Gentlemen! And undecided! Are you ready to listen to the wisdom of the ages? Have you no problems until the moment you tuned into our program? Is a pesky girl bothering you gents because he's been accused of cock blocking more times than even he can count -- which is a LOT! Well pick up those phones and call in your questions! Grab a pen and paper and be ready to jot down the quips and quotes of wisdom that comes from the heart and not the head! May we present to you -- Mister Self-Help!

Canned applause from the non-existent studio audience sounded across the stage as the man himself, Mister Self-Help, stepped up onto the stage. He was clad is a plaid suit jacket of green and blue over a white dress shirt. A colorful bow tie added that all-too impotent touch of class, as did the Bermuda shorts and flip flops on his feet -- prezzies from his number one fans; Narly and Radical aka the Surf Boys. And yes, on his eyes were those Mister Self-Help glasses that not only magnified his eyes to roughly five times their normal size, but also rendered him blind as a bat. Gabriel was seen for the briefest of moments, helping push him up onto the stage and directed him straight ahead. Mr. Self-Help walked straight forward -- and past -- the stage podium and  microphone and right across the other side of the cage ...

And suddenly there was a heavy series of crashes heard off camera and a woman's scream! Mr. Self-Help quickly hurried back onstage, able to see only because his glasses were askew and dangling partially down his face. He stepped in place behind the podium and stole only the briefest of glances off-stage and the direction of the crashes and screams before he stared ahead at the camera and gave it a goofy grin while fixing his glasses.

"Hello friends and fans. It is lovely to once again see you. I am here this evening to talk to you about monsters. No..."

He held up a hand to placate any nay-sayers in his audience (?).

"I am not referring to the beasties that go bump in the night or that prowl the forest paths on the full moon. No, I am speaking of an even more frightening and fearsome nefarious type of horrible creature ..."

He leaned over the podium so that he might speak closer toward the camera.

"Human beings."

"Ooooooo!" Came from the studio audience and Mr. Self-Help nodded.

"I know! And I have here..." He held up a sheet of paper with scribbled jotted down with purple crayon. "... a list of some of the most dastardly monsters of the human race, and yes indeedy do... they are Germans, each and every one."

"Gasps!"

"Fear not! I am not inferring that all Germans or monsters. Only some would be described as being so due to their own choices and actions. They have nobody to blame but themselves for their places etched in history. Let's have a look, shall we?"

Mr. Self-Help reached over to the small projector on a table to his right hand side and picked up a remote control. With a click of his thumb, an image appeared on screen...



"Joseph Goebbels served as the Reich Minister of Propaganda for Nazi Germany. To make matters worse, he was one of Hitler's closest associates and most loyal and devoted of followers. He was an advocate for harsher forms of discrimination and was such a coward that he and his wife committed suicide after orchestrating the deaths of their six children."

Mr. Self-Help then gave a last click of the remote, turning the projector off. The lights in the room gradually grew brighter and our knowledgeable host clasped his hands on the podium and stared straight ahead at the camera.

"I know. Not the most pleasant topics of discussions for a fun and light hearted show such as this, but I feel a necessary one. Reason being the man we are to be discussing now, a man known as Lord Raab, has something in common with the afore mentioned men just discussed; he's German. You know what else he has in common with them? Absolutely nothing! Lord Raab, the scheduled opponent of SCW Internet Champion Despayre, bills himself as the Masked German Monster. Is he masked? Well it's either that or he has a pretty unique skin condition. Is he German? Sure, and he should be very proud for being so. But is he a monster?"

He shook his head.

"No, in fact, he is not. The men I just showcased? They were monsters of the worst sort, and Lord Raab may be a great many things, but a monster is not one of them. At least, not in the traditional sense. Is he a monster inside of the ring? Some might say so, but I prefer the use of the term 'beast.' It's still a strong definition, but does not have the same stigma attached to it as that of a monster. Outside of the ring, Lord Raab might be a bit rough around the edges, but monster?"

He jetted out his bottom lip and shook his head in the negative.

"No. He might have behavioral problems, and lashed out at society as a whole or in individuals, but who hasn't every now and again? Did he attack a woman, an act reprehensible in the eyes of the civilized world? Yes indeed, and afterwards he was not only punished, but he has strived to ensure he did not again perform such a grievous act. A practice he continues to this day. Would a monster work as hard as he has been to correct a negative action? He would not. And if that was not evidence enough in redemption of body and soul, then surely his relationship with Samuel McPherson would cast aside any doubts anyone might have in this man."

"Samuel McPherson, the man who has done the seemingly impossible by capturing the heart and soul of Lord Raab. Is a monster capable of feeling true love and acting on it? In a small part, perhaps, but a real monster puts its actions and beliefs above all else, even if it meant the sacrifice of the one he holds closest to his heart. Now does that sound like Lord Raab? You are right. I don't think it does, either. Samuel is Lord Raab's rock, his anchor if you will. When Lord Raab seems on the verge of falling off the precipice and into the chasm where he might not return, Samuel is there for him. He is supportive of the man he loves and is there for him, whether Lord Raab knows he needs him or not. Lord Raab is a strong willed individual, but I can assure you that more often than not, he is aware of his need for Mister McPherson. He is protective of Samuel, and the man that is at his side personally and professionally is one of the few who is not expendable in the life of Lord Raab. Not what you would expect from a so-called 'monster.'"

"And inside of the ring? When competing, Lord Raab is perhaps one of, if not the most violent men in not just SCW, but professional wrestling altogether. He wants to win, and will do whatever he must in order to have his arm raised when that final bell has rung. Lord Raab has goals, and he is perfectly willing to bend rules, break bones and spill blood in order to accomplish those very things. Lord Raab has made it well known that he has but two professional goals to achieve before he is ready to hang up his boots as an in-ring competitor. One of his goals is to share the World Tag Team Championship with the love of his life, Samuel McPherson. And the second goal? The one that brings us here today?"

"The SCW Internet Championship, currently held by the adorable and ever popular, the charmer of heel babes, the one and only Despayre."

Mr. Self-Help turned his head toward a second camera for a close up shot and he smiled while silently mouthing, "That's me!" before he turned back to again address his audience.

"Lord Raab, like his opponent, is living proof that size does not make for the formidable opponent. In the business of wrestling, when one uses the term 'monster,' one thinks of a man with the stature of near seven feet tall and perhaps three hundred pounds or more. Lord Raab is six feet four and two hundred and thirty pounds. An average stature for a man that sees himself as a monster. And yet even he outmatches Despayre in terms of size and strength. But where determination comes into play? Ah, that is where Despayre has the edge. In speed and unorthodox nature, Despayre is the superior competitor. The fact that he wears the championship gold that Lords Raab seeks is a testament to this fact. And most importantly, unlike his challenger, Despayre is totally and completely comfortable with himself and who he is as a person. Despayre knows he is not like everyone else, and he is quite okay with this. After all, who wants to be normal? Such a desire speaks highly of one simple fact; a lack of courage."

"Lord Raab is not what one mighty think of when they envision 'normal,' but is he comfortable with himself? The mask that he wears is evidence enough that he is not. Hiding behind leather and cloth, shielding his visage from the eyes of the world says that although he is confident in what he is capable of doing, he is not comfortable in what he is capable of being. And that will be all the champion needs in order to take full advantage of his challenger and once again walk out of the ring with the championship gold securely in his possession."

That being said, Mr. Self-Help bid his 'audience' (?) a find farewell and turned to step off-stage when he banged into the table, almost knocking the projector to the floor.

"Oh I'm sorry! I didn't see you there."

And he scooted aside just enough to head offstage with his hands held out to feel his way...