To whom it may concern, aka no one gives a fuck,
My dearest. I just want you to know that his emo sappy crap is only meant to give me a gimmick in my promos to make me seem deeper than I actually am. Oh shit. I spilled my beer. Oh damn it there went my gin and tonic. Oh fuck I just screwed up my kegstand. Gotta go. No one reads this anyway so I feel awesome.
sincerely, No fucks given.

Did I cover everything in your little letter for you? Oh how cute. Your playing the game that everyone else plays to. Actually believable I am incompetent. Let's look at some little facts here. Number one, I'm not underestimating you. Matter of fact, if anything, I'm giving you more credit than you have earned. See you talk about me beg disrespectful. Well. What about you? You tell me I don't know anything about you? You throw me off like I am some kind of failure because your stable still stands and mine is in disarray. You talk down to me like I'm some kind of loser. You treat me like a fool.

Thank you for acting just like the others.

DI is weaker because DI has a structure that you fail to realize. You see. Miranda for all her whoring, drinking, and partying...could handle it. DI is all about one person. One champion! One being standing as the trump card in a hand full of jokers. Oh sure. You win little victories. Tag team titles that are never defended. The hardcore division becoming a joke because nothing screams extreme anymore. Oh yes. You all stand tall over a competition that doesn't give a shit. You see. The truth is Drew. You need me.

Because without me DI would die. Then SFT would die. The reason everyone is tuning in right now is to see what is going to happen next. You took out the trump card. The title stays with the stable, but can you handle it? See. This is where you are wrong Drew. I do know you. I've read your precious little letters. I've heard about your problems. Now the question you have to ask yourself is am I a man to exploit something like that to prove a point that you are as weak and pathetic as the rest of your little group therapy buddies?

I wear this mask in public. Does that tell you how little of a shit I give about your personal problems. I never denied anyone's talent. I still don't deny yours. It takes a lot. The truth is though I know what it's like to step out of the spotlight. It's hard. It's painful. It's addictive...

Do we see where this is going or do I have to spell it out for you. You can tell a lot from watching these promos. You can tell a lot from the way you say certain things. You feel great. You feel invincible because you are putting your life back together. I commend you. It's a great thing. It's a wonderful thing. If I had any shred of humanity I would applaud you. I would step back and say he's been through it all ladies and gentlemen give it the fuck up for this insane clown mother fucker.

But I don't.

You see. The illusion is what matters to you. You think you have control. It's hard. Everything bothers you. You fear losing what you have fought so hard to gain. So much so that you say you don't care if you keep the world title.

I call bullshit.

You are using your fear of failure as a crutch.

Let me put this to you in a way that makes sense to the feeble mind that I am dealing with, aka you and your little friends. They see me as a long winded asshole who makes their lives a little bit interesting. True you can say that I am some kind of freak. Okay. I'll bite. Let me clue you in on something. It's not that I don't respect you. Far from it. I just don't care.

You are just like everyone else Gary has brought back into this federation. All talk and no real spark. I say that because you all have your demons. You all have something to lose. You all have something to fear.

What do I have to fear from the likes of you?

Not a God damn thing. Because all I have to do to get inside your head is exactly what I am going to do at the end of this promo. I am going to push you. I am going to make you understand that you are just as weak and feeble as the rest of us mere mortals and I am going to make you understand that this was a bad idea. That you should run and hide back to your little girl.

Before I put daddy out of his misery once and for fucking all.

You say I don't know you? I'm about to prove you wrong. It's me you don't know you son of a bitch. It's you who are being to overconfident. This is your pride talking. It's gonna fill your mind up with stupid shit. When you look across the ring at me tomorrow I want you to realize something. I'm the guy whose going to mess you up. Win or lose...I'll still win. Because either way. You are going to lose something precious.

You've made me care.

Bad decision. See ya soon...

It takes us a half hour to get to the station. I hate it here. Gray is always a kinda gag color and that's what this place is. They give me copies of these letters this guy has been sending to me. I call my fan club. Yes I have one. Apparently this guy's letters have been going to the wrong address. I read them over. It's...not weird really.

Ataxia: So the guy is a fan...and?

Detective Ericson: You are the only celebrity that he's sent out letters to. Everyone else that he has sent any type of email, text, or letter has wound up dead or missing.

Ataxia: A serial killer?

Detective Daniels: No. All of the deaths are accidental or natural causes...so far as we can tell. The reason we are wondering about you is that this guy doesn't have any finger prints. He shows up in Pittsburgh years ago as an associate of someone very close to you.

They throw down a folder on Trent Steel. My mentor.

Ataxia: So the guy use to be a friend of Trent's what does that have to do with me. Trent was Ataxia before I was so maybe that's what this guy is thinking of.

Detective Ericson: Look. We all ready talked to Trent. The last time he talked to this guy was when they were kids. About the time of the murder...

Ataxia: I know what murder you are talking about. That was self defense.

Detective Daniels: Yeah. We know. The problem is the victim of the murder has also got a bit of an interesting back story. Did you know that he and Raul are half brothers.

Ataxia shrugs.

Ataxia: Again what does this have to do with me?

Detective Daniels: Mr. Steel, when we interviewed him said that you might be who he's sending letters to. Not him under the mask. Trent said that it was a private matter between you two and that he had no real info to give us from the letters. Tell me. Does Trent own any handguns?

Ataxia: He can't carry a gun.

Detective Daniels: Why not?

Ataxia: Psychologically speaking anytime he has held one he goes into PTSD. It's why he got discharged from the military. The man can't hold a guy and keep his hands from shaking.

Detective Daniels: You sure about that?

Ataxia: Yeah. I'm sure.

Detective Ericson: We want you to take a look at these letters. Keep the copies. If you find out anything let us know. A location or something. Most of them are strange bits of poetry that means nothing when we cross referenced them with any location databases. This guy may or may not be dangerous but we need to find out exactly what's going on with him.

They hand me the letters. I'm allowed to leave with the copies. I tell them I'll read them when I get to them. Right now. I got a date with an ass clown.

We fade in on a black couch and a glass table in front of it. Behind the couch is a fireplace. We see Ataxia walk on screen and sit down. His mask is the same but he's changed his look. There is a white straitjacket on his upper body. It's unrestrained and the arms are hanging down. His hands still have the black opera gloves coming out of them. A pair of black wrestling pants and black and white boots adorn his lower body. A belt at his midsection with a stylized white 'A' in the center. Ataxia: I thought it best that you and I do this face to face. Since you need to understand something. I get people. I really do. You see. Some one once told me the greatest way to defeat a person is not just by learning his strengths it's by knowing his sins. It's easy to see what your sins are TGM.

Ataxia reaches under the table and pulls out a bottle of liquor and a shot glass.

Ataxia: You don't mind of course. After all...You're strong.

Ataxia pours a shot and downs it fast. He smiles showing off his red teeth. The red eyes glint with a hint of madness as he leans forward.

Ataxia: Are we paying attention yet? It smells. Emmmm. So good. It tastes. Emmm. So good. It hurts to good. I can see why this would be a hard thing to give up. I can see where this would be a hard thing to fight against. If...I wasn't stronger than you. You see I can go on and on about how talented I am. I could say that the competition here is what matters to me. It isn't. What matters to me is destroying this place. You see. You talk about your shot to the top. I can respect that. Which is why I didn't ruin it. You see. I could have done to you what was done to me. Someone decided when I came in, not as a member of the roster but as a LL participant, and decided to interfere in my match costing me my shot at the world title. What was done is unforgivable. You see I am a man of principles. What you fail to realize is that I'm not the bad guy here. This federation has outlived it's usefulness. It's not what it once was. Shadow, despite his showing, is growing weary and honestly I don't see this place lasting much longer with the ego trips in charge. And I like that. I relish the thought of this place going to hell where it belongs. You see, no one should be spoiled an opportunity. Like I said I could have walked down to the ring. Ruined your fun. Fucked up your whole night. I could have. The reason I didn't is because I respect you. I respect Miranda to a degree. It's called common fucking courtesy. Something which you decided that I wasn't showing you because I think this is bullshit. You think I'm shit. You don't like fighting me. I wouldn't blame you. I have a nasty habit of embarrassing people like you.

Ataxia takes another shot. Slowly. The camera almost makes it feel like this moment lasts a lifetime.

Ataxia: Damn that's good. It really is...

He slides the glass towards the camera. He pours another but leaves it there. The camera angle is such that you see the shot glass and Ataxia talking at the same time. Almost as if he is coming from the glass.

Ataxia: I'll let it breath for a while. Let it soak in. Let it drive you slowly and methodically into a fit of annoyance. What steps are you on right now? I'm curious. You say I don't know you. How do I get to know you. Maybe I should hang out with your daughter. Wait. She doesn't know you either. See she knows daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy! You know I envy her a bit. I wish I had a father. A real one. Oh well. That's life. That's the cross to bear. See. The thing is. You strike me as someone who feels like right now nothing is going to stop them. Things are working out. Things are going great. The problem is. What do you do when things stop going right.

The glass starts to spin and we still Ataxia in it.

Ataxia: Am I getting through yet or is the world starting to get really blurry to you? You see fighting one addiction with another is going to land you back on the bottom where you don't want to go. Since I do respect you. I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to give you the ass kicking you deserve to show you that you can fall. You can break. You will break. When that happens you will know just how 'strong' you really are. I'll be seeing you real soon. Do...not...disappoint me.

The glass overflows out covering the lens of the camera with booze.