<center><img src="http://www.twistedexperience.com/tcw/pics/posters/havocitaly/danteti.png">


Non Title Match
"Dante has not had the best of luck against Infinity team members lately to say the least, on the other hand TI seems to have tasted his fair share of success, even if he didn't win the Majestic cup he has managed to land on his feet with the Bleeder title. In the days leading up to the Stranglehold PPV Dante takes on a legend in TCW, a man who'd like nothing more than to soften up the champion for whichever member of Infinity that challenges him at the PPV. Will Dante break his string of bad luck against Infinity or will this be another notch on TI's belt?"</center>

Bourbon and Coke is the most appropriate combination for the pair in the limo. The one, his face adorned with his usual tribal markings, keeps the bottle of Beam handy and the fountain hose at a further distance. The other prefers champagne, and is content to publicly toast his protégé and privately toast himself. Here's to us, an indelible pair, as bittersweet as the evening has been.

The Insomniac looks to the seat across from him and raises his glass to the Bleeder Championship propped up to face him. For a long while in the lockerroom, he'd studied the artwork on the front. The new logo, a fresh nameplate, that was fine...but the blood etched and colored in was what he found most compelling. For as long as he was champion, he'd be required to bleed others. His first casualty was its former holder, who turned out to be a rabid minx of a woman, fazed neither by TI's size, disposition, or connections. She'd stood up to him in a manner that was becoming quite the habit of TCW's lockerroom. He's no longer the unique freak. The fed had signed quite a few more since his last run.

But now he's champion. And that brings a few changes.

TI takes another sip and notices a familiar look from his associate. "You've said maybe two words to me since we left the arena."

Jeremiah reaches for the bottle of champagne. "What is there to say? And when have I had time to say it? You needed to attend your group's victory dance...God knows I'm not going to be a part of that. And why clutter the air with words? You've regained your place, sent a message to those who've been ignoring you, downplaying who you are-"

"And now I have Dante and Darkness back to back."

"Exactly. You're in the thick of things again. Champion. Infinity's crown jewel. And don't ever forget who helped get you back here...helped return your ambition...helped return your image...and, of course, helped you in California..."

"We're finished talking about California."

"Sure. Finished."

The limo pulls up to the hotel. The Insomniac grabs his belt and steps out first. Draping his new gold over his shoulder, he waits for Jeremiah, who steps out behind him.

The pair lingers for a few moments. TI lights a cigarette, a slow fog escaping his nostrils as he notices the night sky. In such a busy metropolis, only the sliver of the moon is visible. "God's thumbnail."

Jeremiah cocks an eyebrow. "What?"

The Sleepless One doesn't immediately seem to hear the question. He takes another drag, studying the modest crescent above them, caught in a dream where he stands. TI's gaze falls back toward his associate. "Something I once shared...with someone. Anyway, I'm going to make a visit tomorrow."

Jeremiah nods. "I figured that you would. I have a little business of my own to take care of. I'll call you."

"No. Things are a little different now. I'm champion. I've resumed my path."

"But you need to remember that there is a path beyond this mere game."

"I remember. That's what my visit is about."
_________________________

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is relative. Tomorrow, some say, never comes. In the first hours of the closest he'll come, a large man, his face and head shaved and now plain, props up his head with two pillows. A new bottle of bourbon is close by, and he reaches over to pour a fresh shot. The lettering on his back gleams from sweat as he does so, the shard of moonlight now peeking through a part in the drapes gives the room the softest of glows.

The Insomniac rolls back onto his back, paying special attention to the burn at the back of his throat. He closes his eyes for a moment, his hands folded on his stomach. Prayers before bedtime is a long lost practice to him, much less bedtime itself. Nevertheless, this is a moment of meditation. No priest would approve, no pastor would encourage.

Fear. Its very essence, perhaps finally recaptured. Since when has a man in silver face paint had to fight to stand out?

Now he does.

Blood. It made no difference to him that it had been a woman. He was discouraged from playing that card, so she should have been as well. He'd neglected a taste of her. How sweet it was, anyway.

Success. Worth its weight in gold, worth its price in pain.

Now Dante and his new Club. Dante and his mark in the loss column with TI. Dante trying to be someone else since then. Dante and that interfering face-painted gorilla sidekick of his...

It all begins to swirl together. A mark of The Insomniac's namesake ailment. Quick flashes of gold intermingled with blood. Dante's face, twisted, blending into Jeremiah's, and now Bruce removing his mask. A little girl gesturing toward the night sky. "What is that, Daddy?" "Sweetie, that's God's thumbnail..."

Another face breaks through it all and TI's eyes snap open. He reaches for another drink.

"I'd expected that you'd moved forward by now."

The glass makes a sharp bang on the table as TI faces the source of the sound. "I'd expected never to speak to you again."

"You don't need to speak. Only to listen."

There is a movement from the shadow. TI catches the briefest of glimpses at a familiar red mask. The blood rushes to his face, his interlocked fingers growing tighter. "You helped make me what I am now. Don't I even get a chance to finally say ‘Fuck you' to your face?"

"You can speak it all you want. It is up for debate whether my face is a factor."

"I have to go beat up one of your friends this week."

"Your first mistake is believing that he is still any sort of friend to me. Your second is believing that he is the same man...the same creature...that you fought previously. Your third, which you may still prevent, is carrying these two assumptions into conflict.

TI adjusts his position. "Perhaps you can remove my feelings again. Then it wouldn't matter."

"It does matter. You enjoy triumph. Do not let it blind you. Your emotions must not become your eyes. However, neither should they be purged. This is more personal now. You honor that while discarding it."

Something moves within the shadow. His cloak, perhaps? The Sleepless One had prepared for a full appearance, but none came. "If you and he are no longer allies, why does he resurrect the name?"

"You may know the answer to that already."

The Insomniac sighs. "You never were one for straight answers."

"Puppets do not get the privilege of finding the truth so easily. In fact, they do not get the privilege of finding the truth at all."

"I'm no longer your puppet."

"You're half-correct."

The Insomniac rubs his eyes with a thumb and index finger. "I bear your title now. Maybe that irritates you. For all those months that you irritated me, that's a small consolation if it's the case. And yet...grudges are rarely impure. How strange to even think of the two words linked so. You gave me proper lenses through which to see my surroundings. I hate you for it, but..."

TI looks back toward the shadow, now empty, yet as empty as it may have been before. He reaches toward the bottle again and pours another shot. As he drinks, the moon gleams off the golden edge of his newly won prize.

He falls back into his previous position, his head making a dull thump against the headboard. He closes his eyes again, but the images do not come this time. He opens them and glances back, first at the shadow and then at his belt.

His pride and curse, neatly rolled into one.

Prelude

The feeling of her black thick hair made him forget everything, she always had that effect on Dante but tonight it was even more powerful, she was to be honest the most beautiful woman the ghost faced champion had ever seen.

Selenia was laying beside him and was watching him with a smile on her face as he for some reason played with her hair. The thick black hair seemed to mesmerize the man who had been given a life full of a no colour. She smiled again and asked "Happy?"

Dante returned the smile and said "Happier then I deserve to be".

Selenia looked at him with an unasked question on her face. Dante laughed.

"Selenia, I have you no one deserves that."

"Well, I think you do...you did work for it."

"Maybe."

Selenia was about to protest when she saw Dante's smirk. She returned the gesture and laughed.

"I love you Jason" She said while stroking his cheek.

"I know..."He replied.

"That doesn't even sound right anymore, does it?" He added.

"Not really." Selenia replied. "Sad about that?"

"No."

Selenia didn't reply, she just smiled again and moved closer to Dante. The last thought that left Dante's mind before words or thoughts became unimportant was.

"Is this an invitation?"

Selenia then replied in her own way...

****
The nightmare of the sleepless one

The Insomniac was staring at the ceiling. As night was slowly turning into the greyish din that was the prelude to morning, he had long ago lost interest in the rest of the room and his booze and was now staring at the ceiling, not being sure what he wanted.

Sleep? How long ago hadn't he left that behind?

Peace? No peace for him that he was sure of.
All that he was sure of about this night was that an enemy or maybe a former ally had paid him a visit, one that the sleepless one had not cared for, at least not in any way he would voice openly. The darkness was fleeing now; there was only a slight greyish tint to the skies over San Torino left.

Night had passed.

Morning had arrived.

The Insomniac sat up, another night had passed. Another night of booze and contemplation ending up in for all intents and purposes nothing had passed. He looked over to the badge he had won from Freya, black leather, metal stained with what was supposed to look like blood. He looked at the title that bore the name of his nightly visitor and was unsure about what he did feel; the answer to him not being his puppet anymore was bothering him.

"You're half-correct."

There was something in that statement that bothered him, the Insomniac wasn't sure about what it was.

After a few minutes of contemplation he gave up this night and decided to try to seek peace he would never get on the streets of San Torino instead.

****
The Fall of the Fallen

In another room in San Torino, another man was awake. While the Insomniac couldn't sleep, this man didn't need to. He was of the kind that didn't need any of the comforts humans surrounded themselves with, he still drew breath, he still ate and slept but he didn't have to, he did it to retain his humanity, to keep hold of what made him Jason Christopher Dante. He laughed to himself as he thought about what the past few months had brought for him, he had gone from an essentially spoiled upstart brat to a man with a woman who he loved and who loved him, he had become a man with a circle of friends and allies that were just that because of mutual interest not his wealth or his connections.

When he had found out about his heritage, he had for some reason became more human then before. He had become humbled he admitted to himself. He still saw himself as a "If need be" man, that hadn't changed...But the needs had changed a great deal.

Now he was more then ever the guardian of the heritage of the NHFC, Acolyte was home recuperating and Darkness was off in Japan on some goose chase. Jason Dante would have to defend the club against Infinity, and against the Titanium Insomniac.

He thought back to the days he had faced TI as part of the Adamantium Insomniac's team, he hadn't gotten on better with AI then with TI, but then again, there were reasons for that.

Selenia let out a slight sigh and Dante turned to watch her, as his gaze fell on her black locks and pale complexion he felt that surge of love in his heart again, that's urge that made him feel alive. He watched her as she sleep a sleep as unnecessary as his own had been, she loved to indulge in aspects of humanity that hell had stolen from her 60 years ago. She groaned slightly and Dante had to keep a laugh quiet to avoid waking her up.

She quieted down and he returned to watch the dawning day again. The greys were an unappreciated spectacular he thought they were in many ways better then say the colour of summer or spring.

Another sound came from Selenia...this time it was stranger...less peaceful. She seemed to be having a strange sleeping coughing fit. Dante walked over to her and as he got to the bed side she rolled over on her back.

The sight was horrible, her eyes were wide open and rolled back, her entire body was as it seemed consumed with convulsions and spasms. Without thinking, Dante took hold of her, but pulled his hands back as her skin was freezing cold. Dante held his frostbitten hands and stared in horror as Selenia started to froth at the mouth and her entire body seemed consumed with a strange kind of cramp. As her body was wracked with pain she turned her face towards Dante and without a word of a sound she mouthed the words Dante feared the most.

"Jason...I...I..Love you...I will a...lways...L...ove...y...ou!"

The cramps and horrid sounds from her throat returned.

"J...Jason..."

Then her body collapsed and that dreadful silence filled Dante's mind, there was no Selenia in his mind anymore, there was just a void where there had once been love and warmth, there was just an empty abyss where once her spirit had dwelled.

There was no cowardly and hostile creature that was that cause of this, Dante knew that. He also saw the horrid thing in their bed; the body had begun to change something it hadn't done when her spirit had been flushed out of the body. The face was already looking like Natalie Portman again, Selenia was gone.

"Gone." Dante said in a drone like voice.

His love was gone in a flash, he was alone.

"Alone." He said and felt the true horror of the word and how it dug into his heart with a ice-cold dagger and kept stabbing deeper and deeper.

His mind paralyzed, he did the only thing he could...

...he fled.

What does a man who has after promising himself that he would never put her at risk again do when that proves useless? What depths does he stoop to?

Does he suck it up and move on? No.

Does he break down and become a wreck ruled by his raw emotions only? No.
Does he see the problem and address it hoping to make things right again?

He does...

Dye as pitch black as night in a coal mine.

Black pants.

Black shirt.

Black coat.

And finish up with a pair of shades that would make the sun seem dim and dark to keep the fires hidden.

He looks at himself and sees someone new, someone who will keep the past as the past and ignore the pain of today and let it slide into oblivion quietly. Last time he fought and he still bears the scars of that conflict, he bears the pain of the battle on the Mesa, the pain of stopping Darkness from striking at Lucifer and he bears the scar of his father's identity.

This time, Jason Dante will not be scarred, he will scar instead.

He picks up hi cane, takes another look at his new dark self in the mirror jag without as much as a smile or a smirk he heads out looking for his first victim.

****

The Insomniac and the Earthborn.

He had found his way to this place by doing what he set out to, by scarring. He had made his way through anyone who decided that crossing his path as a good idea at the Arena, he made all the JEs and Kermits, Kojacks and Frosts either leave as the dark figure approached or face the consequences, he had ways to make sure even the tongue-tied spoke their words to him, he could rummage through their heads to find what he wanted, he searched stage hands trembling because of the violation, he ran his fingers through the minds and souls of jobbers fearing their secrets would become known and he enjoyed it.

Ever since the days of his hideously loveless childhood he had been made fun of, been used as something to laugh and point at, now he was scarring rather then being scarred, and he loved every second of it, every new soul ransacked and plundered of it's secrets was like a fine wine in his mouth. On his search for the Titanium Insomniac he waded in old sins and secrets and loved the pain he caused.

Eventually he had found his way to this place, no doubt paid for with Shadow's money, the room simply stank of the greedy former tag team champion, Dante knew Shadow well, he knew his stench more then he knew his own. Not that it did matter though; he had found this place, the home and sanctuary of his enemy. Here he kept the few things he brought with him on the overseas journey. Dante could already at this point feel some of the emotions in the air.

Anger, Irritation, slight confusion, longing and a strange sense of guilt that fascinated the demonic Dante. Here in the sleepless ones home away from home he knew he would face the towering TI sooner rather then later.

The sound of the door being unlocked alerted him that the time off meeting had come, the darkness that had settled over the room hid him from view especially given his new way of dressing he sat calmly in the armchair and watched as the door opened making a 6'6" shadow visible in the doorway.

The Insomniac paused as he stood in the door to his own room, perhaps sensing the enemy within it, perhaps feeling that something was just wrong or maybe he always did this.

Dante discarded the first two and went with the last, he still waited for the Sleepless bastard to enter and see his handiwork, he was proud of it and he knew it would have the desired effect.

He saw the Sleepless one's hand move towards the light switch and his heart that had no reason to beat anymore quickened it's pace. He felt an excitement he knew he shouldn't feel, he managed to restrain it. The light came on and the art of the Earthborn Dante became visible.

The belongings the Insomniac had brought with him was strewn about the room in a chaotic manner that both made sense and seemed completely random, TI looked at the scene...admired it in Dante's mind. He saw the efforts of his opponent and marvelled at them.

Then he saw the artiste himself, the painted face and the white face was staring at each other both reluctant to speak to avoid ruining the moment. They both remained silent for a few minutes before Dante broke the silence.

"Hello Jonathan."

The greeting was perfect; there was still enough pain in Jonathan Hoffman's life to make the Insomniac uncomfortable with having been addressed this way.

The silver and black painted face showed no pain, surprise or discomfort and this made Dante's heart sink, but he knew the stab had found it's home...It had to have.

TI looked at his personal things on the floor of the room and then at Dante again.

"I assume there is a purpose with this?" TI asked.

Dante gave no reply, not even a slight reaction. This did surprise the Insomniac somewhat, but not enough to let his enemy see it. It took Dante minutes to actually reply, during his silence he observed TI and tried to judge his reactions, it was hard but his edge made it easier, the curiosity of the Insomniac was both a disappointment and an insult to him. There was no feeling of confusion on TI's mind, no reason to feel anything close to fear. After this disappointment Dante gave up and decided to answer.

"Yes there is."

"I guessed that."
"Good."

The silence once more took over. Keeping quiet, Dante got up from his seat. He was a good 4 or 5 inches shorter the TI and looked like a midget compared to the taller man, but his walk and his expression told the tale of someone who wasn't afraid or even intimidated. He began to speak in a voice Ti wasn't familiar with at all, there was no emotion in the voice though the words were filled to the brim with exactly that he sounded as if he was dead but remained walking.

"I have been looking forward to this a great deal, that mind of yours must hold an infinite amount of pain, hurt pride and guilt. I just can't wait to feel them all and savour each and every one of them."

He extended his right hand and moved his hand towards TI's face, the finger tips felt as if the air around the tall man was electric, Dante held his hand just in front of TI's face as if he dared him to stop him from doing what he was going to do.

Inwardly Dante smiled and cheered for this, this was what he needed...the soul and mind of the man who does not sleep.

The match fizzles as the flame jumps to life, dances an erratic dance that comes with its birth before settling to breathe its short span. Between two fingers, it is gracefully applied to the wick. A second fizzling display before the first is snuffed out, a whirling stream of smoke its death rattle.

The room is bathed in a soft orange glow collectively formed from such a series of life cycles. It is to serve the greater good, contributing to a moment older than books have recorded, a new expression of the ancient. This will play out like the others, but for a new day, a new face, a new event.

Two fingers discard the small wooden corpse and join the other eight in a cohesive unit of earnest devotion. The faintest puff of air rolls over the bumpy terrain they create, air provided by the soft determined whisper of one experiencing the new day and application of time-honored ritual.

"What I have been given, I give back. With what I am entrusted, I ultimately entrust to the whole. What I have earned, I have earned for the whole."

Hands part in order to reach for a weathered text, the edges of its leather cover worn smooth and yellow pages growing more delicate by the day. Carefully, the book is set on the table immediately at the center of the small flames. It is opened to a section long rehearsed.

The chanter barely needs to see the words before reciting:

"Long ago this dream begun
And I the latest to live its tale
Drawn from sleep, the web is spun
Now I, the spider, have prevailed

I worship neither god nor man
Nor angel, demon, wizard, witch;
They're privy to their own demands
Desire subject to each twitch

All falls away, but ere remains
One truth, one single absolute
Control o'er fellow creature, pain
Removed or transferred as I suit

Retain my pow'r, retain my will
O'er whom I choose thro' fire and flood
I satisfy the ‘verse's bill
Thro' off'ring of requestor's blood."

The chant complete, he picks up a small silver dish and sets it prominently on a shelf adorned by various trinkets. He removes a knife—a long thin blade with a silver forearm and clenched fist for a handle—and draws a long line across his palm. He makes no cry; his face is absent any anguish. A modest pool of red forms in the dish, drop by drop.

"To obtain the aid of another's lifeforce, I give a token of my own." His tone is hushed, his breathing even. He wipes the blade with a white cloth before returning it to its sheath. Then, removing a photograph from the breast pocket of his shirt, he places it face up in the dish.

Another match dances to life, and he drops it gingerly onto the picture. Slowly but surely, a silver face combines with the red beneath and orange above, all turning to black. The result is a billowing cloud of dark smoke and the pungent stench of paper and blood.

Jeremiah smiles. To him it is a different smell altogether. It is the smell of power.

He pulls the chain from his shirt and grips the small amulet dangling from it. A fist similar to the knife handle flashes in the candlelight as the disc captures it just right. He closes his eyes and kisses it before stuffing it back in his shirt.

Breathing in the smoke, he raises both palms. "I am but one, yet I am one with my brethren. We are past, present, and future. We hold it all in our hands. Greater good for us and for all."

Opening his eyes, Jeremiah focuses in on the pile of ashes in the dish. "You are destined for even greater things. To liberate. To be liberated."

Standing, Jeremiah wraps his hand in a bandage and grabs his shoes and jacket.

"We both are."

The flames continue their dance. His smiling eyes dance with them.
_______________________

The Insomniac flinches at the buzz of energy given off through Dante's hand. The tinted brown shades—a marked contrast to the smaller man's white skin—provide a shield from assessing any intention, any joy or malice at the heart of this strange activity.

Intelligence dictates some form of action.

The best action in this case is to step away.

TI does so. Now Dante's wordless lips tell the tale. It is a tale of anger.

"I didn't give you permission to move." The words are flat and dry, as if they came from a deserted place within him.

TI crosses his arms. "I didn't need permission."

Dante sneers. He senses the genuine defiance within The Sleepless One. That doesn't surprise him. It is the slightest hint of uncertainty that he latches onto, as if they're the last few drops of water from a canteen. The sneer breaks away into a smirk. "Do I confound you, Jonathan?"

The larger man's eyes narrow. "Don't use that name."

Thinly feigning surprise, Dante takes a step forward. "Does that strike a nerve?" He already knows, and smiles. "It does."

TI barrels down on Dante with an increasingly enraged glare. "You know me better than most nowadays. Of course, that still amounts to barely a thimble's worth."

The albino's smile widens. "I think I know a tad more."

"Plenty have already played the ‘let's delve into your past' card. They've all been burned for their efforts. I have to say, though, you're the first who has tried the ‘throw your luggage around' effect. Really, I can admit that it's my first time. It's a little anticlimactic, all things considered."

Dante's face goes blank once again. "Your attempt at humor betrays your discomfort."

Now TI is the one smiling. "Your attempt to rewrite the past betrays your low self-confidence."

"You're a fool to think I'm not confident, especially right now." Dante feels TI's own level of confidence begin to eclipse his uncertainty.

TI maintains his smile dismissively. "I'm sure you are confident. I knew someone like you, someone obsessed with upholding a certain presence of reverence and awe in those around him. He made some mistakes along the way, thinking that his name would be enough especially after such a long absence. But here's the funniest part...his name by itself inspired nothing more than a shrug. People had heard it before, sure, but such a long while had passed that the stories simply weren't enough to have their intended effect any more. He had to pave a new way...he had to write new stories."

Dante clings to the small uncertainty remaining while sniffing at TI's speech. "So what?"

"So...no one remembers first-hand the original Hellfire Club. You and I are the only ones. And you were a member, even. The stories are fading, the aura not as bright. And you...you never really realized your potential, did you? You were, rightfully, suppressed by your far superior colleagues. They were creatures who'd earned respect, creatures who knew true hellfire and unleashed it on others."

Dante grows impatient. "I know true hellfire. Your ignorance is your downfall."

"Of course you know true hellfire. You slapped the same name on your own group, a far different group. You've re-invented it the way you wanted since the original didn't tip in your favor. You've been nothing more than a disgruntled child since Day One. You lose what you never really had, you scramble once you experience failure."

Dante's aura darkens even more as he remembers Selenia. How dare he...?

The Insomniac shrugs. "Why fear that?"

"I'll show you why."

Dante moves in, holding up his palms once again. The electricity TI feels is stronger this time, and it causes him to stumble backward into the wall. Dante smiles sadistically, feeding on the Insomniac's nightmares and washing them down with his desires.

TI looks down at his smaller adversary, seeing no movement from his lips but hearing his voice...

"You'll never see Sharon again...not until you breathe your last.

"What's it like to watch the stars all by yourself? There's no one to ask you about them any more..."

TI's instinctively applies the ball of his hand to his temple and he shuts his eyes. "Shit..."

Dante bears down on The Sleepless One, his grin becoming more maniacal.

Only the weakest of minds try to dull the pain through liquor and cigarettes...rattling off a few lines of Macbeth won't change that.

What was it like to hear his neck crack...to feel its crunch against your knee? Was it satisfying, disturbing, orgasmic? Who else knows? Perhaps it's your own dirty little secret...yours and that of your friend...how much do you really know about him, anyway? He's done something like this to you before, hasn't he...?"

TI's eyes tighten, his lips thinning into a line. Dante casts off his sunglasses, the red in his eyes flaring with a rabid pleasure. Such a torture gives him strength...

"Beg me to stop. BEG."

TI's voice is weak. "Fuck...you..."

The hate grows. Dante adds more pressure, the kind that can snap a man's will.

"Love is absent. Love is fleeting. You know this. Why persist...?"

Dante swims through The Insomniac's memories, becomes immersed in all his abandoned desires, questionable intentions, crushing disappointments. He travels to St. Louis, Japan, back to the States. He meets friends, relatives, fleeting alliances, despised enemies...

...and comes face to face with one such fiendish memory neither despises more.

"STOP."

Dante breaks his hold and takes a few steps backward. His countenance remains wild, malicious, intense. He finds his sunglasses among the haphazard bedsheets and shields his eyes from the world once again.

The Sleepless One crouches down to his knees, his sweat causing his gloved hands to turn as silver and black as his face. His breathing is rapid and he strives to fight off dry heaves.

Dante walks toward the door, stops, and studies his cowering adversary. "It seems he won't leave either of us in peace. Perhaps he can't be escaped. Perhaps that was his intention from the start."

The Insomniac strains to look up at his tormentor.

Dante licks his lips. "It helped you today. But it won't again."

TI's legs unravel from beneath him and he sits with his back against the wall. The evening approaches once again, and the moonlight creeps back into an otherwise black room.
_________________________

Hours later, a small bulb dulled by a tan lampshade outshines the moon. The Sleepless One, his paint smeared, his eyes bloodshot, has made little movement from his seat on the carpet. He has shed his jacket and shirt, and the silver is stark against the natural color of his skin. Devoid of any bottle--the one from his nightstand shattered during Dante's upsetting of the room—he drinks his second glass of an unnamed green liquid mixed and administered by one of TI's few allies.

In a chair next to the lamp—which he'd insisted on lighting—is that ally. He'd allowed himself in and discovered his charge sitting in the dark, muttering "Bleeder" over and over again. The two have not exchanged many words. TI gave the briefest of explanations for his state and then fell silent, leading Jeremiah to prepare his serum.

Jeremiah studies TI's exasperated features. "This is the effect of extended spells. The mind and body can only take so much."

TI wipes his mouth after another hard swallow. "Why do it at all?"

"He did it because you said the wrong thing and pissed him off. That, and I seriously doubt that his and my abilities have a common source."

TI runs a hand over his smooth scalp. "You've never named your source. So how would you know his?"

Jeremiah shifts in his chair. "Never mind his or my sources. Our immediate concern is putting you back together and then responding. Of course, that will require a day or two for you to rest."

For the first time, The Insomniac attempts to stand. As he gets to his feet, however, his eyes begin to black over and he elects to sit on the bed. The mattress proves a welcome change from the floor. Jeremiah stands to refill TI's glass and takes his seat once again.

Jeremiah sets down the pitcher and leans his elbows on his thighs. "I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Bleeder...he's one you hardly mention."

"It's because I don't want to."

"But his memory is what ended Dante's infliction."

"He's a common character in our history. A nuisance. A powerful nuisance, but a nuisance regardless. We've both been screwed over each in our own ways...I'd say I eventually benefited from his interference. Dante...their disagreement was more colorful. Bleeder...he had an effect in a way no one else has."

Jeremiah flinches. "No one?"

"Not the way he did. Little bastard."

The smaller man leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin. He'd yet to get the credit he deserved. California...what about California? Obviously, he needed something more monumental than that.

Like back to back victories over the New Hellfire Club. Cement both their legacies in the span of a month.

The Insomniac rubs his eyes once again before stealing a look at Jeremiah's reaction and suppresses a smile. He was grateful for California, very grateful. But obviously against Dante he'd need a little extra.

I'll give him something to remember, Jeremiah thinks.

He'd better pull through on this, The Sleepless One silently muses.

And the two sit with little more to say, separated by only a few feet, and yet by miles of expectations.

The pain and the revelation

Pain...

Pain...

Pain like he had never felt before, the surge of pain that went through his brain was the worst he could imagine. It felt as if his cerebellum was on fire and his synapses had been toasted. With his hands pressed against his head he left the building behind and staggered out into the Italian night. He stumbled down an avenue in San Torino and the lights of the passing cars made his world even more dizzy and twisted. He tried to look up and see where he was but there was nothing but the hazy blur of cars, people and a city spinning in front of him. He found a lawn that was still fairly green sort and fresh and dropped on his back on it. There he lay and tried to bring his world into focus again, he tried to fight the pain but it wouldn't give up. Then as in a fevered state he began to talk, half because he was feeling very disoriented and half because he felt these words had to leave his lips so that some one might hear them.

"I...I'm not ready...not ready for this."

No reply, not that he had expected one but he would be a liar of he hadn't hoped for a reply. He kept his hands pressed against his skull and tried to bring focus to a chaotic day. It had been so good this morning, he and Selenia was going to go see the place she had been born...and then she had been struck by what ever it was that had struck her...and then as fast as she had once came into his life, she was gone. This time, the change to the body that had been hers made him sure she wasn't coming back at all this time.

Pain and loneliness made him feel small, small and inadequate, he was the son of Lucifer, he had fought and defeated Darkness and found a way to make him his ally and perhaps his friend, he had changed more then most people ever do...and still he hadn't been able to protect her, the one who he cared the most for of all people in this rotten decaying world. He had failed.

"Yes, Jason you HAVE failed."

Dante heard the voice speak to him and made the mistake of trying to look for it's origin, the nausea that overtook him made him vomit. He lay on his knees dry heaving for a few seconds before he wiped his mouth and quietly to himself asked the question.

"Who are you?"

There was only silence as a reply.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

Still, no reply but an overwhelming and suffocating feeling of heat began to make itself known. Dante pulled at his shirt and tried to pull it off. As he struggled against nausea, dizziness and this horrible heat, the strange and smug voice began to speak to him again.

"Who I am? You of all Jason wonder who I am?"

Dante managed to get out a short and quite suffocated "yes" before he went back to his tortured world. As Jason Dante's torment continued, the voice was speaking, not taunting or harassing him but constantly speaking about things Dante had wanted to leave buried, past embarrassments, prior failures and things that had gone wrong.

It reminded him of losing every title he had held on the first defence, it reminded him of losing the Bleeder title to a man he couldn't stand.

Bleeder...the name struck Dante like an axe...gathering his strength he got his nerve enough in check to ask "Bleeder?"

"And here I thought you were smarter then that Jason...no, I'm not Bleeder."

In the midst of his pain he felt the sickening aura of failure grip his heart. He had done what he thought was right, what he needed to do he had tried to move on and put his time with Selenia behind him. She wasn't bound to Natalie Portman's body anymore and he couldn't feel her loving presence in his mind anymore. Now the terrible feeling of failure was added to this cocktail of pain. A cocktail made more disgusting by the laughing man that seemed to live in his mind now, a man who from just beyond the reaches of his sight seemed to be laughing at his misfortune and enjoying his torture. All while Dante was being forced to go through this never-ending pain this person...this creature was laughing at him, it taunted him with a line that Dante would never forget.

"Never forget this Jason...there is a word for someone who exists only to torture and torment others..."

Again Dante managed to keep the pain at bay long enough to ask the question that along with the strange pain he had started to suffer once he had left the Insomniacs hotel room was brining him great pain.

"For the love of everything...who are you?!"

There was a short period of amused silence in Dante's head, then the voice returned and with a repressed laugh gave him the answer.

"Jason...don't you know me? I'm you!"

Then with laughter in his mind and pain causing him to spasm, Dante faded into unconsciousness.

A friend from yesterday.

The autumn night in San Torino was fairly quiet and calm now, no one noticed the heap of black dressed unconsciousness that lay on the lawn taken out by a pain he had no idea where it came from, no one noticed...apart from one person.

She knew him...or at least knew him better then anyone not in the NHFC did. They had teamed and he had entrusted her with his deepest most personal secret. He had shown her the care a friend shows a friend and now he here lay out cold in the pouring rain. He was dressed differently then what she remembered and his hair was as black as night, but she recognised Jason Dante anywhere. She bowed down and shook him.

"Jason!"

No reaction.

"Jason! Wake up!"

Still not even a hint of reaction and she began to be concerned, she put her ear to his chest to try to hear if he still drew breath and to her relief, he did and she felt a lot better for hearing it. She shook him again in an attempt to bring him out of his unconscious state, and again she failed. She wasn't the kind of person that gave up easily and she had more weapons in her arsenal, she picked one that she thought would yield a result and used it...twice...right across Dante's face.

After the second slap, Dante began to move and groaned as he slowly came out of his knocked out state. He had no real idea where he was and how he had gotten there but he did know that the pain was gone, the dizziness had passed but the hollow feeling in his head where Selenia had once been was still there. He looked around both surprised and confused and finally saw the person who had woken him up He looked at her and it did take him a few seconds to get his eyes to focus on her, he looked at the woman that stood by his side and slowly his mind began to turn again.

"Freya?" he said surprised to see her there.

Before she could continue he asked the most obvious question of all.

"What are you doing here?"

Freya to her credit didn't comment on her being able to ask him the same question, he seemed to have been in a poor state and as much as she knew he could offer her on Shadow, she didn't want to press him on it now.

"Oh, just out taking care of a few things" she replied and tried to make it sound like there was nothing more to it at all.

"Ok..." Dante replied, he had heard her unspoken white lie, but he knew her or at least he knew her well enough to know not to put any pressure on her.

Freya looked at him and in a way scanned him from head to toe, an activity Dante found extremely annoying and unnecessarily prying. She looked back up at his head, and his black hair and asked.

"Going grey Jason?"

Without thinking he ran his hand through what he thought was his black hair and found that his previously white hand was stained with spots of black hair dye, apparently the rain and nature itself disagreed with his changes. He looked up into the pouring rain and let the water wash his face clean for a few seconds before he turned to Freya again. Before he could say anything she asked him the question he was afraid she was going to ask him.

"So, you mind telling me what you were doing laying out cold on a lawn in the middle of the night?"

Dante felt a need to spit as he had no good way to answer this one, he could lie but he felt Freya deserved to hear the truth, but then the truth was damn complex and even Dante didn't know what had happened to Selenia and then to himself. He sighed and decided that the truth was best.

"She is gone Freya..."

"Selenia?"

"Yes, she...I don't really know what happened to her she just was taken...I...I must have gone mad after that."

"I see." Freya replied with a tone that indicated that she understood that there were things Dante didn't want to talk about.

"So, you want company?" She asked him.

"No, it's ok. I'm damned confused right now. My world is...well has always been damned complex and strange."

Freya just nodded; she had had a small look inside his world in Florida and knew parts of what Dante was.

"So, I'd rather be alone and try to get my head on straight, I...it's very strange right now."

"No problem, I just wanted to make sure you were ok Jason."

Dante smirked.

"Well, given the situation I'm ok." He said with a laugh that wasn't entirely genuine in his voice.

"Ok" She said and was about to excuse herself to go about her own business when Dante did it himself.

"Well, I'm ok now, well as ok as I can be at least. Thanks for getting me woken up."

"No problem, if you ever need a good slapping you knows who to call." Freya replied, the joke not being more then a good way to cover the strangeness of the situation.

"Yeah, I'll make sure to call you." Dante replied returning the joke.

Then they both went back to their own businesses.

An enemy from the unknown.

He was tired and worn life had been a terrible pain these last 24 hours and he felt confused on top of the trouble. Dante staggered into the hotel the federation had set him up with and after exchanging a flew pleasantries with the man at the desk in what Italian Dante spoke, he headed up to his room. The old wooden décor made this place look like it could have been a part of the set from the Godfather movies; it had an air of being slightly sinister. Normally Dante would have enjoyed the classic atmosphere of the hotel, but now it only made his mood worse. He walked up to the door that leads to his room and with a deep sigh he took out the key and unlocked the door.

He walked into the dark and empty room and paused just as the door shut behind him. He stood there for a good five minutes to try to find a way to proceed, he was dressed in black, wet clothes that he just wanted to get out of, his hair he imagined was a strange mix of black and his real "hair colour" platinum blonde, and he felt like shit.

He had tried to use his desperation to get Ti down for the match, but he had failed. The large bastard was tough as nails and he had just like when TI had held the blade to his throat failed.

He threw his wet coat into the trashcan and cursed, failure had become his forte ever since End Game. He had had a violent draw against Highone, lost to Hammer and managed to defeat Supreme, a win he felt no joy because of at all. He was considering dropping the titles in a fucking box and send them to Stern and tell her to take her titles and shove them up her...

He paused, he had been wrong. The room wasn't empty; there was someone else in the room. Someone who had been watching him judging him and gauging his reaction. Dante felt his hair stand on end as he turned to someone he should have noticed as soon as he got to the door. Now more then ever he felt naked without his cane and the rapier that it contained. He clenched his fists and as calmly as he could he said.

"Ok, my friend who ever you are, what ever you want...this is a bad fucking time for it."

An amused silence filled the room before a voice he didn't recognise spoke.

"Time is something I have a distinct lack of Mr. Dante, I assume you ARE Jason Dante."

Dante paused and flicked a nearby light switch. His white skin looked almost glowing in the light.

"You think there is any doubt, stranger?"

"Not from where I sit."

"Good to hear that." Dante said in a way that indicated that he felt the direct opposite way.

"You have a point, make it quick and get the fuck out of here; I'm not in any mood for any cheap chatter today."

"I can see that Mr. Dante and I will make sure my business here is finished quickly and clearly."
"I don't see much of a reason for you to talk any more garbage, get to the business and then leave." Dante said with a not too subtle threat in his voice.

"Yes...You see I represent..." He paused he did represent the Insomniac, at least in one way of looking at their relationship he did, TI had no idea that he was here so technically it was a lie, he did how ever have a smallish clue of what this Dante could do and he thought a small lie would make no difference.

"..I represent the Titanium Insomniac."

"I see..." Dante replied sounding quite interested. "As I see it you are either someone Shadow has hired or someone wanting to cash in on TI's return like Valerie Stern. I can't say I care too much for you either way." He concluded.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong Mr. Dante, you see I have a number of interests that have connections to The Insomniac. And you do very much pose a threat to these interests."

"Ah...I see. You have made your point, now there is the door" Dante pointed to the door he himself had entered through not ten minutes ago. "Now get the fuck out of here."

"Ah you..."

"Yeah, I know I misunderstood you. You break into my hotel room, you represent my opponent in someway I couldn't care less about, you think I would welcome you with open arms?"

The man in the armchair paused, he of course knew that he would be far from welcomed by Dante; he had hoped that he would listen to his business though. Jeremiah knew a deal about what Dante was about and he had listened to the rumours about him, now having been in the same room as this strange albino, he felt that at least a few of the rumours were true and the rest were likely to be true as well. Dante had down something to the Insomniac, that he was sure of, but it seemed that what ever had enabled him to do so was either gone or very well hidden. He looked at Dante and said.

"No, not at all. I have goals for the Insomniac, goals that benefit him, me and the federation and that Mr. Dante includes you."

For some reason this man made the ire raise in Dante, he felt the scars from the Mesa hurt, he felt the hollow ache in his head where Selenia had once been, he felt every loss and every niggling injury he had ever suffered and it made him slowly very angry. Without thinking he let his rage out.

"I don't give a shit about the fed, I don't give a fuck about you and I sure as there are dammed souls in hell give one flying fuck about the sleepless asshole, I have seen things that would make the normal fed-fan shit white the rest of his life if he saw it, I have faced threats much greater then the Insomniac so you ca go back to him and tell his Shakespeare quoting self-pitying ass that he can go fuck himself and that he'll face hell at Havoc, I've had it up to here with infinity and your tricks, I will beat TI to a pulp at Havoc and then no matter if Highone or Hammer faces me at the PPV I'll make it the shortest title match in TCW, 411fed and ECF history. As for you I would spend the rest of my life praying to what ever god you believe in that I never go after you, I would crawl into the deepest fucking hole I could find and pull the soil over me."

Jeremiah looked at Dante, normally a man who gave this reaction would be someone he looked down on, but it was obvious that this man was in pain, some very personal and painful thing was tormenting him. He looked at the man who was the Unified champion of the TCW and felt both pity and sympathy for him, he clearly shared a pain with the insomniac, sadly there was to be no help for Dante from him, it was something he had no responsibility for at all. Slowly and calmly he got up and walked towards the door, Dante hadn't even bothered to turn around to watch him leave. As he opened the door and was about to step through Dante's voice was heard.

"One more thing..."

The voice was now much more calm but still with a very clear sense of threat in it.

"They say names carry great power; some cultures believe that if you know a man's name you can have great power over him."

Jeremiah didn't reply, he already knew what was coming, he had felt that slight but still clear touch in his mind.

Dante paused and the let his find out.

"Isn't that right Jeremiah?"

Jeremiah didn't rely he simply left and closed the door behind him.

Dante dropped into a near by armchair and let his tired ness take him over, he had no idea who this guy had been, only that he as he had said was connected to TI and was called Jeremiah, he had no idea if that was his real name or just an alias. He thought about what this guy's point of being here could have been, and then his thoughts turned to Selenia, with her name on his lips and her face in his mind he fell asleep.

A few hours later he awoke from a polite but hard knock on his door; he staggered to his feet and opened the door. Outside was a bellboy holding what looked like a telegram in his hands. Dante got the paper and paid the bellboy.

He opened the telegram and inside he found an invitation to dinner...dinner with TI.

The Insomniac opens his eyes. His awakening had come with a slight jolt and a flash of light against the backs of his eyelids. He stares up at the stucco ceiling, the darkness of the room casting it in a dull grey rather than the off-white that comes with daylight. He hadn't dreamt...he can't recall the last time that he had. Not while he was asleep, anyway.

TI rolls over to check the time. 5:30. Almost half an hour this time. He reaches for the last of Jeremiah's cocktail and swallows it down before throwing his legs over the side and sitting up.

The sun's first rays add extra illumination to the room, beginning to bring it out of the grey. The change is gradual enough that TI can adjust.

There is a knock on the door. TI stands and stretches, his back popping in several places before he makes his way to see who it is. His sweatpants are the only black he know wears, as Jeremiah had advised allowing his facial skin to breathe while he'd recovered.

That dispenser of advice is the one TI finds through the peephole. He flips the deadbolt and gestures for his colleague to enter.

"How's your head?" It's a question he's asked often the past few days. He asks it now as he gingerly walks over and leans against a faux-antique dresser.

The Sleepless One leans against the entryway. "Fine. It's fine."

"Good. Did you sleep?"

"You and I both know how fucking stupid that question is."

Jeremiah frowns. "I meant as much as you could."

"Sure. Yes. Fine."

"I'm glad."

The two sit for a time. TI is content to study his wardrobe, assessing which combination of black slacks and shirts to cloak himself with today. Meanwhile, Jeremiah studies TI, watching for twitches, erratic movements, uncontrolled outbursts...hard to judge which are irregular in TI's case, but still necessary.

Jeremiah cautiously ventures his next statement. "You have dinner plans for tonight."

TI darkens. "I didn't tell you too long ago not to set those things up for me."

"After what Dante did to you the other day, you need to take a stand."

"I'll do it on my own terms."

Jeremiah sighs, his face going rigid. "Listen to me..."

TI's gaze wanders back toward his clothes. Jeremiah hurls a vase of flowers at the wall, causing TI to tilt his head at his advisor in annoyance. "You won't win me over with that ‘fear of God' bullshit."

Jeremiah stands up straight and gets nose to nose with the bigger man. TI remains stoic.

Jeremiah speaks in a stern, hushed tone. "Listen to me. I've done a hell of a lot for you the past couple days. You don't know the fucking half of it because you were phasing in and out of consciousness. I helped you recover your senses. I helped you recover your strength. And quite fucking frankly, you and I both know how much more I've done for you over the past several months. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be Bleeder Champion, you wouldn't have your menacing reputation back, you sure as shit wouldn't have squared things in California. And now, in your appointment with the World fucking Champion and the guy who just a few days ago handed you your ass, it would be in your best interest to get the fuck over yourself, show up for your fucking dinner date, and show how resilient you really are. You are the TITANIUM fucking Insomniac, after all."

TI's face is stony, his arms crossed. "And the biggest reason that you're bitching me out right now is because I'm your fucking meal ticket."

Jeremiah doesn't immediately answer. He backs up a few steps.

TI raises his eyebrows and leans in. "No answer for that? I'm your Chosen One, right? Chosen to do all your work, to bring the results, to make things happen? To fulfill my cosmic destiny? Sure, with your help, but I've been doing the heavy lifting from day one. So thanks for the goop you've been feeding me, and thanks for at least faking concern, but you need to remember who exactly did what in California and who exactly will be the one, yet again, actually sitting at the table across from Jason Dante."

Jeremiah places his hands on his hips and looks down at the carpet. His stern tone vanishes. "He wants to make an example of you for your Infinity comrades."

TI finally shows a bit of emotion as he responds incredulously. "I'm the member of Infinity he plans to make an example of?"

Jeremiah nods. "For Highone or Hammer."

TI sneers. "Well, this works both ways."
_______________________

Jason Dante draws curious looks the second he enters the restaurant. His skin color—or lack thereof, if one thinks of it that way—is not typical to the patrons who enjoy this expensive cuisine. Cynicism would chalk it up to their own insulated lives; their preference for avoiding those they can't control or understand.

Dante pays them little mind. He finds himself too preoccupied. The lingering pains of recent events nag within his skull, as does the memory of one conversation after another that he would have avoided. Freya had been the one bright spot among them...otherwise, his list of tormentors and adversaries is growing and includes a strange cast.

Of course, Dante wasn't the first strange sight of the evening for this clientele. Now wearing his silver and black mask, The Insomniac already has been seated, and now strokes the smooth edge of his spoon as he watches Dante maneuver through the maze of tables. The looks follow him, as they had with TI earlier.

TI looks up at Dante, who has finally made it to his chair. Dante remains standing, his hands resting on the back.

TI gestures to the chair. "The shiraz is elegant this evening. I took the liberty of putting it on your tab. You'll mind, but don't worry...I won't."

"I'm not staying."

"Oh, please. If Matt Strikmore can spend a few minutes with me, surely you can."

"I don't want to spend another minute with you before our match."

TI calmly takes a sip of wine. "Still harboring some ill will about my Hellfire Club comments?"

A smirk forms on Dante's face. "Actually, that all played out a little differently than you hoped, didn't it?"

The Insomniac scowls. "But you ran into a memory you couldn't handle, didn't you?"

At this point, Dante finally slides back the chair, sits, and leans in toward his opponent. "I ran into a few others that I found more curious."

"Again with the ‘delving into my past' crap..."

"No...I'm talking about your friend. You call him Jeremiah."

"What about him?"

"There wasn't a whole lot about him to see. How surprising that someone with your intellectual abilities wouldn't find out more about the people with whom he associates. You talk about me knowing a thimble's worth about you...what about how much you know about him?"

TI grows defensive. "Perhaps you should concern yourself less with my affiliations and more with the laughable suggestion that you'll make an example of me."

Dante leans back in his chair for the first time. "Maybe it won't be me who beats you. Maybe in the long run it will be him."

TI now leans in. "I'm the one sitting here, not him. That's the way it'll always be. Besides...the last time we did this, things didn't go in your favor."

"Things have changed since then."

"The process, maybe, but not the result. Besides...there are ways your relationships could be trouble for you as well."

Dante snickers. "Darkness is not your concern...at least not yet."

"No. Not Darkness. Remember how I became Bleeder Champ?"

Dante leans in again. TI smirks. "Yeah. She gave you a little wake up call the other night, didn't she? Seemed you needed a little help getting home. I busted her open once...I'd love to do it again."

"Freya can take care of herself. Actually, you already know that."

"Again, difference between process and result. Your life is becoming more cluttered with people you have to take care of, isn't it?"

Images of Selenia flash through Dante's head during TI's suggestion. The rage is building again. Through gritted teeth, he musters a response. "Don't talk about what you don't really know."

Unfazed, TI picks up his steakknife and turns it over in his hand, studying it. "Incredible how fragile life really is. One moment someone you care about takes refuge in your arms, perhaps a gentle word is all it takes to ease life's rougher edges for him or her. But in the blink of an eye, it all changes. That's the complication of this web of relationships we weave for ourselves. Sure, we like passing the blame. ‘If only he'd listened to me.' ‘If only she'd gone to the doctor sooner.' But really, it's our own fault, yours and mine, for caring about them to begin with. If we hadn't, then our hearts wouldn't break later."

Dante rubs his temple. "You don't know what you're talking about."

TI's smirk grows as he sets his knife back down. "But you obviously do. And that's what's truly important. Enjoy your meal."

The Insomniac pushes himself smugly away from the table and begins his own trek through the configuration of tables, leaving Dante with his own thoughts.

Frustration bubbles up in Dante's mind, he is the world champion a fact he rarely cared about or even thought about, once those years ago when he faced the Insomniac for the first time the situation was the reverse, Dante was in all ways still very much a rookie, inexperienced in the art of the mind war, roughly cut and without the sheen of a truly valuable gem. Since then he has been tempered by the wars he has been in and the battles he has fought. He has gone from a spoiled brat to a man with love and responsibility, he had gone from being a snotty upstart to a man with wits and class, he had stopped hiding and had become the ghost face again, he had dropped his painful masquerade and became the man he was now.

It annoyed him that he had lost his control and temper so much lately, he HAD lost Selenia she had simply been taken away and that still pained him, but that was far from an excuse. He had let his inner demon shine through and he had paid the price for it, he had let his anger flare up and he had yelled at this Jeremiah that was the sleepless one's confidant, mentor or some kind of ally at least. There were things he had struggled to keep inside and hidden that had been brought out by the arrogant ways of the Insomniac. And this for the face painted bastard to simply leave him at the table was too much, Dante gathered all his strength, all his courage and spoke out.

"So hiding is your one answer Jonathan?"

The Insomniac stopped. He stood there like a black monolith, one of the most dangerous men in the federation's history, one of the most feared champions of all time and Dante's words had frozen him. Dante didn't wait for him to gather his wits and retort, he wanted to keep the pressure up, and he knew that he needed to do that.

"You think hiding your face, your name and who you really are makes the world any different? You can drown in face paint or masks and it won't change a single thing Jonathan, they are still dead and you can't change that in any way. No matter how many nights you stay awake and only doze off you spend, no matter how many quotes from your gods you quote or how much you hide from Jonathan Hoffman and his past he will still be there and you will still have to face the cold truth every time you let your guard down for one second."

The Insomniac stood still, Dante knew he had heard and understood each word, he didn't turn around but he did reply.

"You simply don't understand Dante; you have no way of knowing."

Dante felt the ire raise again but he held it back, the idea that TI had given himself the exclusive rights and a monopoly on suffering and pain was annoying him, he had seen his beloved Selenia be dragged from this world before his own eyes and helpless arms. He knew pain, pain that he was certain that TI had felt too, they had both felt harsh desperate despair at the loss of their loved ones and they had both reacted in different ways.

Dante had broken free, free from his serum-based mask, free from his lie and free from Seth's insidious control.

TI had developed a new persona to shield him from the pain, behind a mask at first and the behind face paint the Insomniac hid from his past, from the pain it had caused him.

Dante understood this, and what it meant. For now he ignored that and simply said.
"Trust me Jonathan, I DO know. More then you can imagine. The difference is that I let the pain affect me, I don't hide behind a screen of fabric or face paint, suppressing my emotions leads to what you faced in the hotel room the other night...that and having Freya help me find my bearings again. I've tried and failed, I've tried and succeeded, but I don't hide...not anymore. Running from your problems will only make you tired."

The Titanium Insomniac was still not moving, his cool demeanour was a façade that Dante was sure of, he was certain...no he knew that behind the cool and calm exterior there were emotions running rampage, pain that dimmed his judgement and hurt that he would never be able to leave behind.

Dante knew and wanted to use it, he wanted to use the sleepless face painted asshole's own pain to release his own at Havoc, having his hand raised and hearing the announcer call out his name as the winner would make some of Dante's pain at least tolerable. Selenia was gone, but he would defeat the Insomniac in her name, for her honour and to celebrate her help and her making the son of Lucifer a human again.

Dante looked at the back of the large man dressed in black, and with a tone that held no joy at all he said:

"Jonathan, we will meet at Havoc and the New Hellfire Club and Infinity will do battle again, but this time you face an opponent who doesn't fear you."

TI's pose changed a slight bit as he managed to repress the urge to reply.

"You face an opponent who holds the trump, both in motivation and titles. I know you more then anyone in the federation knows you now Jonathan, I have seen the face of your wife and daughter, I have felt your pain and your joy. I paid the price for it, a price I take on board and use as fuel."

TI's mind was spinning as he heard each and every insult Dante fired off at him, every slight against his name...the name...that damn name was like a stab in his heart every time he heard the voice of his enemy speak it, how dared this little upstart this upstart who was nothing when he spared him those years ago?

Dante's words cut deeper then TI had expected, the alabaster skinned champion wasn't using hyperbole or "wrestling rhetoric" he was speaking calmly and at the same time with great passion. Each word was like knifes against TI's mind. Each of Dante's "truths" was a slight he would repay in pain at Havoc, that TI made a holy vow to make sure of.

During his time descended in his own thoughts, Ti had failed to recognise that Dante had left his seat and now stood in front of him with his back to him. The urge he had to fight to avoid ruining this man were considerable, as he fought his more base urges Dante once more spoke.

"All this time in so much pain Jonathan, so much pain and no way out apart from the simplest and least effective one...make me wonder if that highly praised intellect of yours is no more the much ado ‘bout nothing."

Dante then simply walked away from his fuming opponent and left the restaurant behind feeling at least to some degree redeemed.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

Dante had been walking around San Torino for a few hours when a beeping sound brought him back to the real world again. He took the phone out from his pocket and looked at the message it displayed, beneath the Sony Ericson logo it told him that a very good friend of his was now waiting in his hotel room. Dante smiled, the impending reunion made the feeling of despair and loneliness feel less hurting. He put the phone back, waited a few seconds at the as the cars that were braving the rain whizzed by and with a smile on his face he walked back to the hotel.

Ten minutes later, he walked into the lobby of the hotel, got his key from the porter and walked to his room. He put the key in the lock and was greeted by a voice he hadn't heard in a while.

"Hello there boss!"

The man who had spoken was a large man with long blonde hair, he was just like Dante himself dressed in white. Unlike Dante he sported a nice tan that was only interrupted by the brace on his neck. Dante smirked and replied.

"Hello there Cordazer, good to see you again man."

The large blonde man got up and the two Hellfire Club members shook hands. Cordazer paused and his face grew a bit darker.

"I decided to come as soon as I heard about Selenia,"

Dante nodded.

"Thanks, I have no idea what happened Cordazer, she...she just disappeared."

Cordazer Smith better known as the Acolyte nodded, he felt certain closeness to Selenia due to his infatuation with her a while back. He was relied to see Dante holding up better then last time she had been taken from him, he still shuddered about what few parts of that story Dante had told him, to see his friend and employer this sane in the adversity was assuring for sure.

Dante seemed to dwell on the events of the past for a few minutes, then his demeanour changed at least on the surface and he said.

"So, how was the Caribbean?"

Cordazer smiled, happy to be able to get away from the hot topic.

"Well, you know the Caribbean always treats people well."

Dante laughed.

"Yeah I know...its one good place that's for sure."

"Yeah"

Silence settled over the room for a few minutes. Cordazer broke the silence.

"So about this match with the Insomniac..."

"What about it?"

"Well, you think you can beat him?"

"Yeah."

"Not more then that?"

"I don't really follow you here Cordazer."

"Well, I mean no "Of course I can!" or anything like that?"

"No."

"I see."

"Well, you know...he's not a guy I actually like having to deal with."

"Ok, how so?"

"Well, as I see it TI isn't a guy who likes it when people talk to him...he prefers to have people listen to him wax on and on."

Cordazer laughed.

"Yeah, that's the truth."

"I think it is."

The two men talked about the past, future plans as the night wound on towards morning.

Prologue

Dante was asleep and the night was coming to an end. Later that day he would face the Titanium Insomniac at Havoc, he would battle against the best Infinity had and he would be alone, no Darkness, no Acolyte and no Selenia by the ring. It would be him against a man he had only faced as part of a team before.

Despite this tension inducing future, Dante slept and slept damn well.

As the clock turned 6 his sleep was disturbed by a strange voice in his room.

"Jason!"

He sat up in his bed not entirely awake.
"What?"

"My time is short here, my son...but in the city of pain love dwells and awaits you."

Then the voice faded again as Dante sat in his bed trying to figure out what had just happened.