Within the desolate catacombs of an unknown dungeon, Jerk the Synonymous sit, chained to a wall by the neck, with only a chipped and on the verge of crumbling flight of stairs visible in his otherwise dark world.  He stares at them with wanting, like a dog awaiting it's master at the front door.  There's no self-pity, no shame, no self-awareness at all in his gaze as he looks on, almost entranced, at the dimly lit flight of stairs.  Suddenly a giant turkey leg comes bouncing down the steps and toward Jerk.  Almost on instinct he snatches at it in the darkness, pulling his hand back to his chest with poultry in tow.  A female figure stretches down the narrow stoop, overtaking Jerk's crouched figure as his lips twist into a smile.  A little red hood appears at the top of the flight, before fearlessly making it's way down to Jerk as he outstretches his arms and tries to pull forward on his collar.

Worried Female Voice: Is it really necessary to keep him down there? What kind of message does that send to him? He won!

????: Victory is only within our grasp now.  He has won nothing my child.

Fertility throws back her hood as she reaches the bottom of the flight.  Jerk stretches his arms and body as far past it's bound threshold as it'll go to try and so much as touch Fertility as she merely stands and stares as his fingertips barely miss making contact to her face, her body, and even the hem of her cloak.

Worried Female Voice: But he's won.  I understand that it wasn't the war,but merely a battle Father, but shouldn't he be given some good grace for his triumph?

????: No.  It would only make him soft and impotent.  His reward is living another day, Ms. Lynch.  He understands this.  It's within his nature to understand this.  

Finding his tactics futile, Jerk goes limp and lets his leash pull him back into a seated position.  Almost forgetting the presence of Fertility, He sets to task at trying to gnaw off his own neck to get free.  Lynch gives a sad smile as Jerk tries over and over again in vain to make his mouth reach his own throat.  She lowers her eyes as her past self asks her elder indignantly.

Worried Female Voice: Are you sure about that?

????: Only as sure as you seem in the answer to the question of: 'have we done this before?'  He is not our first un-thawed neanderthal Ms. Lynch.  Just as you are not our first Ms. Lynch, Ms. Lynch.  Time has a tendency to reset.  The actions of yesterday are bound to replay tomorrow.  Men have died upon the discovery of this fact.  Brilliant men.  Scholars who've devoted their lives to proving this exact theorem, only to find their thesis within their own actions long after it's too late to capitalize on their discovery.

Lynch cuts her eyes up the steps as an agonizing, inhuman, scream echoes through the infrastructure above her.  She glances bashfully toward Jerk as he gnaws away at his drumstick, seemingly over the failure of his previous task and oblivious to the horrifying world around him.

Worried Female Voice: Is that what you're doing to Arkham? 'capitalizing on the discovery of others?'

????: What we're doing with Mr. Arkham is far beyond your feeble librarian's comprehension.  

Worried Female Voice: Is that why you chose me? thinking I'm a little less prone to catching on or killing for answers as the rest of my Lynch lineage? think I'm a bit too skittish to stand up for myself or Jerk?

????: No.  We tapped you for your knowledge and compassion.  Your weak will and cowardice are why we cast you out in the first place.  I have no question as to whether another Lynch, a stronger one, the type we like, would have merely ravaged Jerk for the experience before putting him out of his misery and taking his place in The Games.

Worried Female Voice: Then why not go with that? You seem to have more faith and conviction in the 'other's than you do in the success of Jerk, or myself for that matter.

????: These are questions that have answers unfit for a meager librarian's ears.

Fertility bends down, kissing Jerk's forehead.  It catches his attention, as if he'd forgotten about her presence while engorging on greasy turkey meat.  She turns to walk away as Jerk begins to scramble to his feet. She stops just at the foot of the stairs as Jerk tries to chase after, only to get pulled back down to the ground once more by his leash.

Worried Female Voice: Fine.  You wanted me to care? Now I'm worried! So give me answers! Anything.  I don't care how mundane or cryptic anymore! Just treat me like I matter! Like he matters!

????: Very well.  The answers you seek are simply thus; You don't matter.  He doesn't matter.  Your team doesn't matter either.  You're all just a disposable experiment set in place to fulfill the needs of our investor, Mr. Richardson.  Once your task is complete, success or failure notwithstanding, the experiments on Mr. West will continue.  He'll live out the rest of his hellish reality until we've gotten what we want from him.  Jerk will be terminated or disavowed back into the harsh Nordic wilderness from wince he came to return to his stasis as a human iceberg.  And as for you Ms. Lynch, you will return back to your meager existence as a tome jockey.  Whether we'll lobotomize you for the safety of our syndicate or let you live with the waking horror of the knowledge of the fate of your compatriots remains to be seen.  What doesn't remain to be seen is whether or not anyone will notice one way or the other.  You see, you've always been our little disposable tool, a throw away ratchet set with a one purpose use to you.  After this is all said and done, your fate will be no matter to anyone because no one cares about you.

Worried Female Voice:...

Fertility lifts her head and turns to Jerk, who stares at her with eyes thirsty for knowledge and more.

????: This isn't a fairy tale Ms. Lynch.  It isn't even the harlequin romance you've concocted in your head.  You are a glorified dog trainer.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Once you've completed your task, the fate of the dog will matter not to you.  What's more, the fate of you will not matter to the dog.

Fertility drops to her knees in range of Jerk's leash.  She opens her arms and lets him rush forward into her, nearly going through her in the process.  As if something ingrained in her clicked on, she seamlessly manages to slip through the viking's clench and pin him down, mush to the astonishment of her and Jerk, whom looks up with an impressed toothy grin.  Shaking it off, she grabs Jerk's greasy cheeks and makes him look her in the eye.

Fertility Lynch: Listen! You've already sent three good little vikings to Odin.  You've proven you're more than just some rescue shelter reject with broad sword wielding capabilities.  You're a man.

Jerk the Synonymous: I AM JERK!

Fertility Lynch: Yes, but you're also a man!

Jerk the Synonymous: JERK IS MAN!

Fertility Lynch: And what does Jerk do?

Jerk the Synonymous: JERK DESTROY!

Fertility Lynch: And why's that?

Jerk the Synonymous: MAN DESTROY!

Fertility Lynch: Sadly that's true, but not the point I was trying to make.  Jerk destroy because....?

Jerk the Synonymous: Jerk...is....man?

Fertility Lynch: YES!

Jerk the Synonymous: HAHA! JERK IS MAN! JERK IS MAN!

Jerk begins bouncing Fertility up and down with his legs and hands, like a father playing with it's child.  Fertility struggles to keep her glasses on and her skirt pulled down as she flops through the air like a rag doll.

Fertility Lynch: STOP! STOP! 

Jerk stops flailing as Fertility once again goes air born.  He rolls out of the way as she comes crashing down to the dungeon floor chest first.  He chews on his fingers like a cowering child as Lynch pushes herself off of the damp stone floor and trudges up to him and plants a finger on his chest.

Fertility Lynch: Jerk...is man.  Never forget that.  And Jerk is THE man who made the difficult choice for Victory or Valhalla, because when given the options of giving them victory or giving them a warrior's fall, Jerk sent three little viking boys back to Odin with their tails between their legs!  And what does that mean, Jerk?

Jerk the Synonymous: JERK MORE POWERFUL THAN VICTORY OR VALHALLA!

Fertility Lynch: And they were sent by Odin.  So what does that mean?

Jerk the Synonymous: JERK STRONGER THAN ODIN!

Jerk covers his mouth in shame of what he's just blurted out.  Lynch shakes her head no and pulls his hands away from his face.

Fertility Lynch: No,no.  No shame Jerk.  You're right. As a matter of fact, you're on to something here.  What is Odin?

Jerk the Synonymous: Odin is God.

Fertility Lynch: Correct.  Odin is your God, and you've defeated three of his disciples.  Glory or Death claims to be GOD.

Jerk the Synonymous: THEY NOT GOD! THEY..uh...THEY LOSERS!

Fertility Lynch: But even if they were.  Even if they were God, you've proven that you can spit in the face of god and send any of his acolytes packing.  Correct?

Jerk the Synonymous: ...Jerk is god destroyer?

Fertility Lych: Correct.

Jerk the Synonymous: So if Odin no destroy Jerk. and Jerk destroy Odin, that mean Jerk no die ever?

Fertility Lynch: Might as well print it up and put it on a t-shirt it's so catchy.  Victory or Valhalla gave the ultimatum of Glory or Death.  We gave them death.  To paraphrase the Clash.

Jerk the Synonymous: What 'Clash?'

Fertility Lynch: Don't interrupt, I'm on a roll here. To paraphrase the Clash, Death or Glory become just another story in the Semi-Finals.

Jerk the Synonymous: Then Jerk go to finals!

Fertility Lynch:...and Jerk wins!

Jerk the Synonymous: JERK WIN! JERK WIN! JERK WIN!

Jerk begins berserking around the dungeon, careening from wall-to-wall, as joyous as ever as Fertility looks on with a shallow smile of confidence as the past floods her mind once more.

Worried Female Voice: Do I get a choice in which happens to me?

????: Only if you come out the other end of this Triad Games triumphant.  

Worried Female Voice: For the record, I want the lobotomy.

????: Very well.

“You ready Alex, I’m not gonna go easy on you this time?”  said the man standing In the ring opposite a seventeen year old Alex Richardson.  “Yes uncle Paul.” Replied the young man as he and his uncle/mentor circled around each other.  ‘find the weak spot, don’t stare it down.’  Thought Alex as his eyes scanned for an opening to take advantage of.   As soon as he thought it, he found himself down on his back from his uncle shooting in and getting the single leg take down.  Alex tried to squirm away, but he found his uncle’s grip was vice like, and had him trapped.  With one swift,  smooth movement, Paul had managed to flip his nephew over on to his belly, and immediately follow up with a front face lock.  Alex quick got up on all fours, and wedged his fingers between his uncle’s forearm, and his own throat.  “Good, what are you going to do now?” Asked Paul as he cinched up a little more on the hold.  Alex’s thoughts raced thru his head as it became harder to breath.  Slowly, and with the assistance from his free hand, he got to a knee, then doubled over but on his feet.  Paul responded by dropping back dragging Alex back down to the ground with him.  “What did I tell you boy?  Where the head goes the body follows!”  Said Paul as he wrapped his legs around Alex’s back, effectively preventing him from escaping the choke he had applied.  Alex tried to desperately tried to find an angle to backdoor out of, but found nothing.  He tried flailing desperately in a last ditch effort to break free, but simply could not break free.  He felt as if he was trapped in quicksand and could do nothing to save himself.  “Haven’t I thought you anything?  Did you learn nothing from me?!?  Who knows what will happen to your family of you fail!  Maybe they let the Viking have his was with them, or worst maybe the freak?  If they do it will all be your Fault!  You understand me?  All your Fa…”
 
 
Alex awoke from his dream in almost shock.  He took the surroundings of his single bed hotel room, almost oblivious to the loud buzzing of his phone’s alarm.  With a deep, sighing breath Alex had managed to calm himself.   ‘We did it, I don’t know how but we did it.  two more matches, just two more matches and we’re home free.’ He thought.  It was still a bit of a surprise last night that Alex and his team mates had managed to pick up the win the previous night.  Despite being on a team with partners whom he really didn’t know, and whom wasn’t sure he could trust, them somehow had managed to pull out a win, and keep Alex’s family safe for another day.   Alex reached over and turned off the alarm.  He rested his head back down on his pillow for but a brief moment before it rang again.  This time it was more melodic, this time it meant someone was trying to call him. 
 
Alex blindly grabbed his iPhone, ‘Gary’ read the display.  “Hello?”  asked Alex.  “Hell of a job you did on that one.  I could have done it better but not by much.” Answered Gary.    ‘what an asshole’ Alex thought, he knew Gary was joking, but it still got to him that he’d say something like that when it was his ass that needed to bailed out of this jam.   “Ever the comedian, what’s up Gary?”  Alex asked.  “Well wanting to congratulate you on winning last night is the main reason.” Replied Gary.   “That’s all?” Asked Alex as he sat up in his bed.  “Yeah, and maybe I miss waking up and seeing your beautiful face, hahahah”  Gary said jokingly.  “I’m just happy I got to get some sleep after a match without having to hear your snoring.”  Responded Alex as he got up off the bed and stood in front of the full mirror on the sliding closet door.  He took notice of A few welts and bruises, not particularly bad, but those wannabe Vikings could pack a punch.   “Did you actually watch the match?” Alex asked as he walked away from the mirror and towards the dresser.  “I did.”  Replied Gary.  “Can I get thoughts on it?” Asked Alex as he opened the top drawer.  “Well I wouldn’t say the three of you were quite the well-oiled machine that Sone & Richardson are, but you were all able to gel together enough to get your hands raised last night.” Replied Gary.    “And what about the guys I’m teaming with?” said Alex as he fished out his wallet.  “Well the Viking, What’s his name?”  Gary started.  “Jerk.”  Alex replied.  “Yeah Jerk the Viking looked impressive, I think he might be able to out bench me… Barely.”  Said Gary only half joking.  “And what about the other one?  What about Arkham West?”  Alex said in a straight, serious tone.  “Well he’s… unique.  He caught my eye with some of his moves.” Said Gary, this time a bit more seriously.  “Hey if you’re still wondering if you could trust them, just remember that they helped you win last night didn’t they?  Shouldn’t that be enough?”  Answered Gary. 
 
“Yeah, it is, as long as they’re trying to win I don’t think we’ll have any issues.”  Said Alex as he retched into the wallet’s pocket to pull out an old photo of him and his Uncle standing side by side with Paul’s arm resting on Alex’s shoulder.  Alex gazed at it for a while.  He remembered the day quite well, his first day of training under his uncle Paul.  Seeing how young (and scrawny) he was brought back a flood of lessons he learned inside the old sweat box of a gym.  How each joint could be bent or twisted.  How each limb could control, or trump every other. 
 
“You okay?  I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you so we may as well skip playing twenty questions on this one and just tell me.”  Said Gary.   “Yeah I’m fine, just had a bad night’s sleep is all.”  Responded Alex.  “Listen, you don’t need to start getting nervous now, you guys handled business last night, and as long as you do the same in the next two outings that tournament is as good as yours. You hear me?  Just do exactly what you’ve always done, and we’re all out of this.”  Said Gary.  Alex would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little more inspired, but still there were doubts. ‘Could it really be all that simple?  Could the team keep their momentum rolling?  What would actually happen if they won?  What would happen they lost?’  The questions flooded in and out of Alex’s mind, only ceasing with one answer, Whatever happens out there, he was gonna give his all.  Every last drop of sweat and blood, and energy that he had in his body.  If that wasn’t enough, then at least there was nothing else he could do.
 
“For once, I think you actually might be right Gary.  As far as I’m considered, the pressure is on the other three teams, because me, Arkham West, and Jerk, all have our backs to the wall in one way or another.  So every match we are gonna give all that we got to get the win, something that I’m not sure anyone else is actually willing to do.” Said Alex.   “Sounds like Glory Or Death might be facing the later.” Gary said in that half joking tone, knowing that when the bell rang, there was nothing worst than having to face a motivated Richardson.
 
“Don’t get me wrong Glory or Death are a good group of wrestlers, but there’s nothing on the line for them except their maybe having their giant egos bruised.  Like for instance, Matt Queen is more than just a pretty face, he’s one of the fastest guys in this tournament.  But the old say that Speed kills works both ways.  He makes one mistake and he’ll leave himself wide open to be picked apart.  And yes he’s a decent Technical wrestler, but he’s not as good as he thinks he is, and if he tries to take it to the ground, I’d be more than happy show him how it done.
 
And as for Desmond Helms, He has a lot of the tools you need to get far in the business, but what he needs to know is that my family IS this business.  I grew up crawling on the mat, I’ve remember running the ropes every day after school, and most importantly I’ve learned every tip and trick that from my Great Grandfather, and my uncle who combined gave forty five years of their lives to the business.  So when I lock up with Desmond, he’s gonna learn those same lessons the hard way.”  Said Alex taking one more glance at the photo.
 
“What about that big guy?  What about Chad Baxter?” asked Gary.  Alex took a deep breath as he reflected on the question.  “Not going to lie to you, he’s everything they advertise him to be.  He’s big, strong as an ox, and constantly looking to pummel his opponents into dust…” Alex started.  “Kinda like me?” Interrupted Gary.  “More like exactly like you, and we all know who won whenever we fought.   See the thing with Chad Baxter is that he’s a bully thru and thru.  I remember when I was a eleven, a kid in school kept bullying me, till one day I bloodied his nose with a solid right hook, after that he never picked on another kid as long as I was at school.  The same principle applies to Chad, and when I lock him in the Richardson special, he’ll never even think of trying to bully me, or anyone else in the Dream Syndicate again.  And whether it’s me, or Arkham West, or Jerk the synonymous, you can bet that all three of us are gonna be out there and doing our damnedest to make sure we get the win, and when you got that kind of effort from three guys like us, winning is nothing to it.” Said Alex with a calm yet intense fire in his voice. 
 
“Well sounds like you’ve got this one all wrapped up, Listen I got to go, April wants me to go with her to this thing, and you know how she can be when she wants something.”  Said Gary.  “Yeah I do, I’ll talk to you later Gary.”  Said Alex.  “Talk to you then.” Replied Gary  before hanging up.  Alex looked down one last time at the photo in his hand.  “Time to make you proud Uncle Paul.”
 
FADE TO BLACK.