A bare bulb swings from the ceiling revealing red wrestling trunks slung over the back of a chair. Small puddles of water are staggered across the tiled floor, undoubtedly the wet tracks from someone's zigzagged footsteps. The faint sound of running water grows louder as we approach the open bathroom door. A shadow sticks to the far wall in the room underneath the rustic vanity lights.

Jason Cruise hunches over the stone sink well, his head tucked underneath the silver faucet where cold water begins to spill over the back of his head. Blood stained beads of water run down over his cauliflower ears and paint the bowl underneath him a dark, crimson red.

His sleeping eyes jump in and out of darkness. They remain heavy, sunk in the bowl of red water beneath him.

The hand of Cruise reaches up, collapsing on the long handle. With the little strength he has he pulls it towards him.

The water goes silent.

The bathroom light flickers.

His head slowly rises.

Eyes narrowing in on the mirror.

As the screen fades.

* * * * *

Tuesday Morning.

'Kansas' Marie sat in her favorite purple bean bag chair in the far corner of her apartment. It was here she often found herself when she needed to let the real world go and just relax. However today would be different, today would be a moment in her life where she really began to question her loyalties and more importantly, her emotions.

'I'm worried about Jason. He won't talk to me,' she said softly into the phone.

On the other line was a voice unrecognizable to the common viewer, hell, to any viewer. It was the voice of the Man in the Black Hat who has been seen lurking around in the hallways of FUSE and arranging lunch dates with Marie over the past few weeks. His whereabouts, much like himself, are unknown.

'It is not your job to worry. It is your job to make sure he survives. He is alive, is he not?' The voice is very matter of factly.

'He's locked himself in the bedroom and won't let me in.' Her voice shows concern for the first time in weeks.

'Good.'

'Good?! How is that good?' she questions with a raised voice.

'He is alive, that was my question. The burns are an obvious set back but it is nothing that he can not handle. Jason is a strong person in and out of the ring. A few bubbles on his face will not keep him down.'

Marie shuffles her chair, a bit uneasy. She goes from leaning back with the back of her head sunk in the soft beads of the cushion to sitting on the edge of the chair uncomfortably.

'Bubbles? The medical staff said he suffered third degree burns. They said he's lucky to be able to see after what they did to him! I don't think he's ever going to come out, he could be scarred for life!'

'So he is worried about his looks?'

Marie's free hand flanks out at her side, if the man on the other end was present he would see that she would have that look that any women gets when she wants to strangle someone.

'What -- Wouldn't you be?!' she yells, not taking into consideration that he has been nothing more then a voice in the shadows for the past month and a half.

'I might have a solution,' the voice says, completely calm.

'Oh, and what pray tell is that?' she begs of him.

'You will see.'

* * * * *

Tuesday Afternoon.

Delivery men never really establish a relationship with the occupants of the houses on their routes like they may have years ago. This was a new day, a computer age, where buyers and consumers rarely meet face to face and even when FedEX comes to your door you are either not home or in a compromising position like in the shower or screwing around on your spouse.

So if a neighbor were around this Tuesday afternoon they would find it strange to see a man carrying a package step out of an unmarked truck walking up to the apartment of Jason Cruise with no intentions of ringing the door bell. However, they would also find it strange that he was dressed in a long black cloak with a matching top hat pulled low over his brow. Then again, this is Los Angeles and something being considered out of the ordinary is far and few between.

Without any sort of hesitation the man wrapped his black-gloved hand around the door knob and thrusted forward, pushing the door open with his hand. He stepped inside the apartment and gently shut the door behind him.

There were no lights on, no radio playing, no signs of anyone being home. But he knew otherwise. The man was fully aware that Jason Cruise was sitting in his bedroom staring up at the ceiling with the lights shut off. His eyes became fixated on a chair set in the middle of the living room. Jason's red trunks were set over the top of it, his signature red kicks not more then a few feet away. It would be here that the man would lay his package to rest, turning on a single bare bulb overhead as he stepped back into the shadows and out of the room.

* * * * *

Tuesday Evening.

Like a blind man, Jason Cruise stepped out of the shower, feeling the walls around him in the dark apartment. Shivering, he stared down at the puddle he dripped onto the floor. He looked at his feet and legs that were covered with bruises and red stains, and for the moment ignored them. Instead his eyes became fixated on something else.

Light.

He stepped out of the bathroom, water dripping down his body, and reached for the bedroom door. Slowly, he peeled the door open, placing his head into the cracked doorway where he made certain that Marie or anyone else for that matter was gone. It was here that his eyes would find the source of the light and they would follow the soft glow downwards to the chair in the center of the room. Cruise pushed the door open, stepping into the adjoining room, stepping towards the light.

Jason surveyed the room with his eyes as he crept forward. Cheap decorations still littered his walls as he cautiously. Out of habit he reached for the light-switch on the wall but he quickly reconsidered. He stepped past a wall mirror without so much as glancing at it, instead studying the room as he closed in on the box.

It was here that he saw what laid on top of the box.

A small handwritten note.

* * * * *

Jason,

A gift to hide your pain, it once did me the same.

A friend.

* * * * *

Midnight.

A clock ticks on the wall, both hands stretch upwards towards the large twelve. An old air conditioner rattles noisily as water trickles out from the leaky faucet. Faintly you can hear hands shuffling through a box and the creeping light underneath the bathroom door is enough to give visual to small pieces of styrofoam spilling to the bathroom floor.

Jason leans forward, his hands trembling as they wrap around the object. Without realizing it, he begins to lift it towards his face. The outline of his nose and mouth vanish into the object.

His hands drip down the sides of his face and fall to his side.

His face has vanished.

The bathroom light flickers.

The water stops.

Flicker.

A bronze reflection.

Flicker.

Jason Cruise stares into the mirror, his face concealed by a solid bronze mask.

Flicker.

'My destiny.'

Black.

* * * * *

Later.

The clock on the wall strikes two in the morning, Jason Cruise remains standing in the bathroom of his Santa Monica apartment. Water remains silent on the stone counter top with the bare chest of Jason Cruise huddled forward against the sink. Scars and bruises paint his athletic frame like that of any wrestler who goes through the battles and wear and tare that his does each and every week. Nobody said saving the world of wrestling was a painless job.

Through two burrowed out holes in the bronze faceplate Jason stares into the mirror yet again. His hard hazel glare stretches through the mask and reflects back towards him. It's now that he sees himself in a new light, a new way.

'It seemed inevitable that our paths would eventually cross, I just didn't think it would be this soon.' His voice has hardened, it lacks the relaxation that it once had months ago.

'I've heard your name for awhile now, Lane. There's some people who think you are the real gem of Affliction. There's no doubt about it that without you Clinton Sage would just be a skinny punk who cusses a lot at absolutely nothing and beats up defenseless women when people stop listening. I must commend you, it takes quite a man to bite his tongue time after time when people talk about how great of a leader Clinton Sage is. One wouldn't expect that from a guy who answers every serious question with a witty one liner and a crooked smile.'

There are lips etched into the mask but no opening, just two small incisions where his nostrils are.

'But I guess that's who you are, Lane. The lovable sidekick who plays the fiddle when the music stops. I've heard people say the same about me, Jonathan's right hand man... but there's a huge difference between you and me, Lane. Besides the obvious fact that I'm better than you in the ring, I also earned my title. I worked to get where I am here in FUSE. I said I was going to turn this place around and I did so in the biggest way possible, I went for the Affliction. I beat El Diablo in the middle of the ring not once but twice and proved that whatever I say I can and will back up night in and night out.'

'You? You got handed a shot coming off a loss to my partners. You went out there and pinned Sean Sterling who hasn't scored a pinfall victory in god knows how long while Clinton lured Jonathan away from the match allowing you to win a title without beating the champ.'

'It'd be touching if it wasn't so pathetic.'

There's a deep breath.

'But, that's neither here nor there. When it comes down too it I'm going to show you what being a wrestler is all about. You'll bring your parlor tricks and smoke clouds and pray that you get the chance to cheat me out of victory.'

'Well cheat away, Lane.'

The Masked Prophecy nods.

'I'll be too busy out classing you in the ring to notice.'