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As the pale man ranted and raved, there seemed to be no sign that his pleas would be answered. Even as time passed afterwards, it was as if the cries of the desperate man had fallen onto deaf ears.

... and then, the flickered off.

The titantron began to hum with life as the arena was plunged into darkness. However, it was as if the screen itself was showing off the arena; an empty black void filled the width of the screen.

"Ah, you're right... we are watching. We are always watching, Marshall."



A haunting, bass-toned voice echoed around the building as a dim light began to flicker on within the screen. Sitting on a pile of crates was a tall, bulky figure clad in black leather. His face was visible and pale, with black paint streaked across it in various patterns. His long, black curtains of hair hung around his face, lining his features quite nicely. His eyes were dark, but showed no signs of hostility. He was a strange figure, indeed.

"But that's what we do here, I'm afraid. We watch. We observe. We... take notes. It's our job, my dear friend. I must say... we're quite good at it. But, that's the easy part."

The man slid off of the crate, his leather boots thudding against the concrete beneath. He stood level with the camera, which he then grabbed by the sides and lifted up. One may think it a handheld, the way the large man handled it and yanked it upward. He held it infront of his face, close enough so that the littlest details could be made out in his features.

"Yes, that's the easy part. Observing and noting everything about our tar-... person of interest. What they do, where they eat, who they talk to, how they brush their hair, how they walk, how they breathe, sleep, s**t, shower, and even write! For you see, it all helps us find the real information we're looking for... and that's the easy part. It's the... offering of our services that's usually the hard part. Most don't like to hear us out. Sometimes, we have to use a little... motivation... and that's where my colleague comes in."



The man turned the camera around to expose his colleague. Standing beside a huge, white sheet was Alexander Dramien, the known masked cruiserweight. Known for his sinister appearance, it was as if the two were a match made in heaven.

"You see, his specialty is the hard part. The motivation. He helps me convince our targets that they truly do need our help. He's even gone as far as to wear a Garden-Gnome disguise to help one of our clients! He's truly a visionary."

The near-cheerful tone was an offset compared to the display going on so far. With a whirl, the figure brought the camera back to facing his direction. His face was still close to the camera, taking up the majority of the screen.

"And Marshall, you... you are an interesting one. A champion, a ladies' man, a man with a bright future!.... And that sister of yours, she's a real looker, isn't she? Quite a fine... piece of meat. Delicious, I daresay."

The man's tone began to drop, getting lower and lower as he spoke. His eyes were narrowed in, as if to stare right at Marshall as he spoke.

"She wasn't too quick to accept our services, though. Perhaps... you'd like to persuade her?"

"Oh, is that a bit of a spark? A little friction going on inside the little 'vampire'? You're angry!... Good. That's always the first step, isn't it? I assure you, your darling sister is fine! In fact.... I think she'd love for you to see her progress. Don't you think, Alexander? Let's show the champion!"

A loud grunt and the sound of a sheet unfurling could be heard behind the camera, until the speaking man finally turned it around. Under the massive white sheet was a see-through tank with various pipes connected to the sides and the top. With that chamber would be the woman of hour, Dallas Cruz. She had her hands behind her back, presumably handcuffed, and her clothing was far from the perfect state it was back when she was last seen. Her makeup was even in a state of disrepair. By the looks of it, her captors hadn't taken great care of her.

Behind the camera, the man's strange bass voice resonated through the cellar. "See? She's perfectly fine! Not a hair out of place since you last saw her!... Well, maybe one or two, but that's a minor detail, eh? I'd tell her to wave, but... she's rather immobile right now. In fact, I don't think she can even hear us; not that it matters, this is big-boy talk. We shouldn't worry the little Queen's head with such discussions, right?"

The sound of the camera fumbling around echoed through the arena, mixing in with the sounds of Marshall's pleas. After it shook about and lowered by a foot or so, the camera finally came to a resting point. The pale figure walked back into view, suggesting that the camera had been propped up on something to include all three figures in the shot: Alexander, the mastermind to this whole plot, and the victim.

"Now, I know what you're thinking... she's in danger, correct? You think she's in a bad situation, but that's not the case. This is all part of the services we offer. In fact, this is simply a demonstration of what we wish to offer you, young Marshall. You don't seem convinced though. I wonder..."

The man walked around to the side of the tank and looked up at the pipes. He began to scratch the small beard hanging from his chin while humming to himself in a casual manner. "I wonder, should we begin early?"

With the vague question asked, the man pulled a remote from his pocket and pointed it over his back. With a click of a button, a whirling noise echoed through the dark room. In an instant, the pipes connected to Dallas' confining tank began to softly vibrate. A moment later, water began to pour into the tank from the various outlets, slowly beginning a filling process.

"Ah, Hydrophobia... a common, but petty phobia, don't you agree Alexander? What do you think, Marshall?"

The masked man simply gave a nod as he watched the tank being filled. The man in black looked back to the camera and gave a cruel smile, but not a word followed. Now, it was only time to watch.

"Hmmm? What do we want? What an interesting question... we don't want much, do we, Alexander?" The man asked to his colleague, turning his head to gaze at the shorter man of the duo.

As expected, Alexander gave no response. Instead, he was crouching down and watching Dallas struggling and plead. He tilted his head and glared at her with those blank, dark eyes, merely observing her panicked motions. The look of fear in her eyes. The look of pure terror. The flight or fight instincts kicking in; it's a shame she had no way to fight.

"You truly are no help sometimes..." The man muttered to himself as he looked back to the camera, his grin immediately reappearing. "Isn't it obvious by now, Marshall? What we want... is to help you. We want to help mold you into the proper champion. One that does not have such a petty weakness... why, don't you see what it can do to you? Don't you see what FEAR does to the body? Look at your little sister, my friend. Watch her panic... watch her scream... watch what fear can do to you."

The man hit the remote once more, clearly speeding up the filling process on the tank. Despite this action, the man kept talking.

"Will you accept? Will you hear my terms? It's truly an offer you shouldn't refuse... after all, it's doing wonders for little Dally right now."

"... Splendid."

That single word followed from the man's mouth was filled with a sinister and creeping feeling. The wide smile that etched on his pale face surely didn't help. Despite the agreement, he didn't bother pushing the button on the remote. Not yet.

"In that case, allow me to formerly introduce myself... my name is Dani Vengeance, and how I'm going to help you, dear Marshall... is I'm going to test your meddle. It's my understanding that, since you're a champion, you have to face off at this 'Hardcore Harvest' event and defend your championship. You seem to be lacking a proper challenger... so, I propose that our first session be at this event. Should you see it through... your sister will be returned to you. Do we have a deal, friend?"

The man, now revealed to go by the name of Dani, let his grin stretch wider as he waited for the confirmation. He didn't seem set on stopping the water until he had it, either. My, Dallas was going to have to start drinking the water soon if she wanted to keep some air in that tank.

With Marshall's confirmation of the match, Dani's eyes lit up with joy, an eerie sight on the man's face for sure. He clicked the remote, allowing for the water flow to cease into the tank, despite it already being full.

"... Drain the tank... Just a bit, of course."

He muttered the command to Alexander, who promptly looked down at the bottom of the tank and pulled a lever, apparently attached to a grate. He pulled it out just long enough to drain the water until there was just enough room for Dallas' head, though it was clear she'd either have to swim in the tank or stand on the tip of her toes to keep above the water.

"I'm glad you've seen things my way, Marshall. By the end of our sessions, you may truly be the greatest champion in the company... or not... we'll just have to see. Until then, dear friend. And just be warned..."

Dani walked up close to the camera and picked it up off the tripod, blocking all view of Dallas and his assistant in the background. "I know, Marshall. I know wh-."

The feed cut out abruptly before he could finish his sentence. Perhaps he had meant for such to happen, or maybe HBO had finally forced BBW to end the feed. Whatever it was... the match was already made.