Welcome to Gaia! ::

the lights dim slightly in the arena as the ever familiar chords of Down with the Sickness by Disturbed hits the PA. Smoke covers the stage completely, as well as the ramp and ringside area.

Can you feel that?

The fans look to the entrance as all along the ramp mechanical torches are raised. Lighters are lit all throughout the audience

Oh wah ah ah ah!

Flames burst up on the stage, illuminating the stage and Jarel, standing in the midst of the thick cloud of smoke that had hidden the stage from view. He's dressed in his usual jeans and a sleeveless shirt, complete with his gloves and a red leather trenchcoat with a Dragon symbol on the back. He even has a red brimmed hat to match. The torches on the ramp shoot flames periodically in time with the beat of the music and the Dragon begins to make his way to the ring, with the smoke that had been on the stage moving down the ramp ahead of him to the ringside area

Drowning deep in my sea of loathing
Broken your servant I kneel
(Will you give in to me?)
It seems what's left of my human side
Is slowly changing ... in me
(Will you give in to me?)


Jarel makes his way down the ramp slowly, not particularly in a rush to the ring, his eyes locked on the man that will be his victim here tonight.

Looking at my own reflection
When suddenly it changes
Violently it changes
Oh no, There is no turning back now
You've woken up the demon ... in me

Jarel stops at the end of the ramp, his eyes moving around the arena

Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
Open up your hate, and let it flow into me
Get up, come on get down with the sickness
You mother get up
Come on get down with the sickness
You ******** get up
Come on get down with the sickness
Madness is the gift, that has been given to me

Jarel steps up onto the apron and into the ring over the top rope, then takes up a mic and waits for the music to die out. Even after he waits for the crowd to quiet down before raising the mic.

"Little did anyone know, i had plans to be here tonight that were meant to be a bit more physical. But things change, as they say. And i overheard something... Interesting."

The Dragon pauses to let that sink in.

JR: What could he be referring to?

"Earlier tonight, the owner of WWFG made a proclamation. This WrestleMania will be the last. "

A mixed reaction interrupts Jarel here.

JR: Cartwright did indeed state that earlier but we aren't sure what that means for us here.

King: Maybe Jarel knows something we don't.

"Now there's an old saying that the more things change, the more they stat the same. But more appropriately that all things that live must one day die. Where there's a beginning, there's an end. That being said, if this is indeed the last WrestleMania, then i feel its only fair that as a WWFG original who's still around, that i come out for one last showing. One last match. Or better, a last series of matches. As WWFG must end, so too must my career. I rather like the idea of a retirement tour, as I'm still fit enough to compete. So I'll make the rounds of a couple companies as I head towards my final match. And the rounds begin at the last WrestleMania."

JR: I don't think i ever expected to hear this man state he was ready to retire publicly.

King: everyone does at some point, except me.

Jarel lets the reaction die down before continuing.

"So far, we know my little brother will defend his world title at WrestleMania. We know my sister and son have some issues to settle with the two Trents. And we know there will be a money in the bank ladderatch. So that leaves me some room to decide who i want. I feel that its only appropriate that i settle an old score finally. I have an old foe to face on our last show here... "

Jarel raises an eyebrow at the implications of this unexpected intrusion. Creeker doesn't talk a lot, but what he does say is clearly meant to sting a little at least. The Dragon raises his microphone to respond.

"Old jokes? Haven't heard those before. But while I could be accused of killing off careers, I'm pretty sure those careers were people who were established and needed to be put down. If I am this mystical gate keeper, I can hardly be blamed for those unable to make it past me and continue on. See if someone were to come out here and say that I killed off their career, they would have to be someone like Steve Sparks, who I ended in hell in a cell. Or Kal, who while he was the least intimidating opponent I ever faced in the cell, never did much after I was done with him either. Both were established names at the time, so if they suddenly came up out of the grave to say I killed their career, they'd be right. But I've never killed off a career before it could, in your words, "get any traction". Since you're out here, I'm going to assume you have a point, maybe some proof of a career I've killed off?"

Jarel lowers the mic and awaits the response of Creeker

Jarel's smirk never leaves his face, a rarity for the normally serious Dragon.

"Ah, there it is, the Sickness bubbling inside you, normally buried and now rising to the surface. I wondered when it would show. Now it has. But before we get too deep, let's make sure we get the facts straight. We've never gone one on one. You and I faced off in tag team matches, for tag team titles and title shots. You have yet to go one on one with the Dragon, but even still a loss to me eats at you. If that is your definition of being a career killer, I suppose I am. And I will own that title too. Let's add it to the list of the Dragon and Godfather of Hardcore."

Jarel's eyes never leave Creeker, especially now that they're both in the ring.

"You say I'm a soul crushing, soul eating monster that doesn't give two craps about anyone who steps up. I leave a stain on their name? I've left a stain on yours, from what you say. You know what that tells me. The Sickness within you, eating you alive, is jealousy, pure and simple. You want what I have, you want that power you've given me. You want that dominance, the reign of terror. You want it and you never managed it. So, you hate me. You blame me. You have all this size and power, and have never lived up to the potential you know you have. So you, like so many before you, see the opportunity to stand here and make a bigger name for yourself at my expense. You can finally face me, and you have convinced yourself that this stain I left on you will fade away. So allow me to put it to you this way, if you want to go one on one with the Dragon at the Last WrestleMania, you're on!"

Cheering from the fans interrupts Jarel here, and he pauses for a moment before he speaks again.

"But that stain you're so worried about, it's going to spread. That stain, that Sickness, that disease, is your own crippling self doubt. You link it to me but I didn't create it. I simply brought it to your attention. At WrestleMania, it's only going to get worse. With the lights on bright and your pride on the line you're going to crash and burn. By all means, bring your all. Throw everything you have at me, because you know as well as I know that it won't be enough."

The Dragon lowers the mic, the smirk vanishing to bring home his point

Jarel finds himself pleasantly surprised By the challenge. The smile returns for just a moment before he raises the mic again.

"You want to go no holds barred against the Godfather of Hardcore? Far be it for me to deny you your dream. I accept. "