-

The day before all this had taken place, before the decision that led to the message Maelstrom taped as what could be his final message to the world as he steps forth into the great beyond... there came the event which catalyzed the whole process..

The afternoon sun beat down upon the fields that day, hot enough to force anyone within their right mind to stay inside. The blinding light was in Maelstrom's eyes as he reclined in the passenger seat, Layla having her turn at the wheel as their rented blue Pontiac Sunfire tore down the superhighway at nearly twice the speed limit.

Maelstrom grumbled, resting a heavily muscled forearm over his eyes to protect them from the blinding brightness of the sun. "Now I can see why you insisted on driving this stretch."

Layla's stoic face cracks into a slight smile at this remark. "As if I'd volunteer to drive for any other reason."

Maelstrom rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were just being nice."

"And I thought you knew me better than that." Layla concluded, looking down her nose at the helpless gladiator trying to sleep with the sun in his eyes.

It was the sun in his eyes which got Maelstrom to look into the backseat of the car as a possible refuge... an action which may have saved his life. A glance out the back window revealed a black van following closely behind. Maelstrom's eyes narrowed to slits as he realized something - that van had been following for quite some time.

Since that morning, come to think of it. This was no coincidence -- Maelstrom had heard rumors about Anatoly Dragan finally stepping aside from his drug trafficking, to set a price on the head of the man whose testimony completely dismantled the pitfighting ring and put half his infrastructure behind bars.

A satisfied smile slowly spread out over Maelstrom's scarred face. He turned to Layla, whose attention was back on the highway. "Not to alarm you, Layla... but we're being followed."

She immediately rose to rapt attention at the news, and turned to him. "Which vehicle?"

"Black cube van. It's been tailing us all day, even after we pulled over for gas an hour ago."

"Do you know who they are, or wht they want?"

"If they've been sent by the man who I think sent them, then today's gotten a lot more interesting." He replied, a pleased little smirk twisting his face.

Layla shot him a sidelong glance. "Would they leave me alone, if I were to leave you on the side of the road for them to collect?"

Maelstrom chuckled. "Probably not. They'd probably kill you too, just to prove a point."

Layla's face slowly twisted into a grin. "Ohh, so this is serious!" Finally, she was seeing some action. "So, any ideas?"

"We have to stay on the public roads, otherwise we're in a world of shit." Maelstrom spoke, his eyes on the van, his twisted, ingenius mind racing. There's probably enough men in that van to take me down without endangering any of them. And they're probably armed to the teeth."

Layla, her own mind pulling up no ideas other than a firefight which meant certain death, was shocked. Never before had Maelstrom been unable to come up with a way to avoid a problem, or unable to challenge it head-on. Grim worry creased across her brow as the Sunfire sped down the highway, unable to shake the ominous, supercharged black van following close behind. Several seconds passed. A sign blurred by beside the road... and the gears in Maelstrom's head began to turn once more.

"Layla, I have an idea."

"The last thing we need to do is get off the highway or stop the car."

"Just trust me. Take the next exit to that restaurant. I saw this trick in a movie once."

At that, Layla rolled her eyes and secretly pronounced them both officially dead. But, anything seemed better than her plan, so she turned the wheel, and as the car sped from the highway towards Cozy's, she turned to her handsome grinning compatriot. "So what is this plan of yours?"

Maelstrom's smug grin said little as he spoke, his confident voice bold and loud once more. Well, I can't tell you everything about it, but I need you to act out a part for me..."

Fuve minutes later, the blue Sunfire pulled into the massove parking lot in front of Cozy's. The black van stopped some fifty meters back - its driver still oblivious to the fact that Maelstrom was hatching a plan to dispose of him. His dark eyes shot around the parking lot for something -- anything which could provide the necessary diversion for their escape. And then he saw it.

The kid was pudgy, in his early twenties. He wore an army surplus jacket over an old Pantera t-shirt, and a black beret. His scraggly beard, shifty eyes, and unmistakeable scent of marijuana when Maelstrom got close revealed the kid's style of living to him. And then there was his car - A forest-green El Dorado, the hood fastened on with baling wire. As the pothead stepped into the public restroom, Maelstrom decided to pull out his bankroll and buy himself a little extra time.

The pothead eyed the tall, muscular pit fighter with apprehension when he approached him washing his hands. His voice was one he uses to hear often enough himself. "Hey kid... wanna make some extra money?"

Finally, the pothead, eyeing the stack of bills in his hand, answered Maelstrom's question. "Doing what?"

At this, Maelstrom's face twists into an almost pleading expression. "Well, kid... I've got woman problems, you see. I got this girl, she won't fuck off, she won't leave me be... she's like a stalker, man." His eyes meet with the red-rimmed ones of that stoner. "I want you to do me a favor."

"Hey, man... nothing illegal. I don't want any trouble." The pothead shook his head vehemently and started for the door, only to be stopped by Maelstrom.

"Wait, wait, wait... hold on. I never said anything illegal." The pothead reluctantly turned around, and Maelstrom waved a crisp bill under his nose. "Just tell me if she's out there and this is yours. No strings attached."

"Even if she's not there, I'm keeping this, man."

"Fine, I don't care. Just come back and tell me if she's there. You can't miss her. Tan skin, long black hair... real pretty."

The pothead stuck his head outside, and paused for a second to leer at Layla, leaning against the hod of the car and waiting impatiently for Maelstrom to return. "She's still there, man. That's one pissed-off chick you've got there."

Maelstrom ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "Shit... all right, how much for that car of yours? The rusted-out El Dorado... come on, name a price."

"I dunno, man... I just put in new shocks and a radiator. I couldn't part with it for any from his thick rollless than say... three thousand dollars..." The pothead said, obviously lying through his teeth.

Maelstrom glared at the young whelp. The audacity! If he didn't need the kid for his own ends, he'd be lying in a pool of his own blood by now. But all venomous feelings were set aside, and Maelstrom, counting out the money from his thick roll, laid thirty crisp hundred dollar bills in the astonished boy's outstretched hand. Maelstrom looked him in the eye, glaring. "You and I know that car isn't worth half that much, but I'm desperate. But you should at least be willing to part with your jacket for the amount that I paid you..."

He stepped forward, his glare intensifying. The pothead's composure took a sudden plummet, and without hesitation he tore off his patch-laden army surplus jacket and handed it to him.

Maelstrom silently threw on the jacket, before handing him the Hertz rental car keychain. "Now this will take you wherever you want to go. You definitely got the better end of this deal, my friend."

With that, he was out the door. Five minutes later, every ounce of luggage was transferred between the vehicles, and the pothead stuck his head out of the bathroom just long enough to catch Layla sneaking into the passenger side. He shook his head. Fucking suburbanites.

--

Cruising down the highway at ninety miles per hour, the pothead couldn't believe his luck. He'd gotten rid of his piece of shit car for three thousand dollars, a year after no one would have given more than seven hundred for it. He'd gotten to ogle this guy's chick, and now he had a free rental with which he could do anything he saw fit.

To top it all off, he even let the bitch back into the car after the whole ordeal! What a weirdo... but then again, he never had to worry about seeing his face again - so, life was good.

All of a sudden, a black van rushed up to pass him, and veered close. Very close, as a matter of fact... it was trying to run him off the road! The tires screeched beneath the car as the stoner wrestled for control of the vehicle, eventually forced onto the shoulder by the ominous black van. Furious, he leapt out of the car. "Watch where the fuck you're fucking going, you... FUCK!"

The shaven-headed man who got out was even bigger than the guy who'd bought his car. The stoner stopped in his tracks. If he'd frozen in fear before, he nearly soiled himself when the man pulled out a silver handgun and pulled him aside. The stoner thought his life was over, until after being tossed into the ditch, the attacker and three others dressed like him approached the car. One opened the backseat door, poking the barrel of his pistol into the seat cushions, before fiting two pistol shots into them for good measure. Another popped upon the trunk, where the stoner's duffel bag lay. The stoner screamed in fright as the assailant fired another two shots into that as well.

Then, as he climbed out of the ditch, three of the men, obviously irate beyond belief - approached and threw him back in before kicking a few bootfuls of dirt into his brown dreadlocks. As the rest piled into the van, amid many whispered curses, one remained. Glaring, he turned to him.

"Get a haircut, and get a job."

-

-

And now, this story takes us back to the standoff... where bodyguards stand ready to mow down Maelstrom and Layla where they stand. Where Layla is held hostage against the mahogany table, and Maelstrom curiously holds a knife to the base of Dragan's skull. The air is tense, where one false move will result in certain death for our heroes, if not Mr. Dragan as well.

Dragan's cockiness in knowing how he has full control of the situation shows through, as he lets out a braying laugh. "Go ahead! Kill me! You and your pretty girlfriend will be dead before you hit the ground!"

At this, however... much to the shock of everyone in the room, Maelstrom's face suddenly twists into its trademark grin. Nonchalantly, he lifts Dragan even higher out of his chair, before asking a simple question.

"I never said this was going to kill you, did I?"

He pauses a moment, as confusion takes Dragan and his guards, before continuing - his voice cold, cruel, and sadistic as could be. "I've done this dozens of times before - and for some reason, people rarely die from it. When this cold steel pushes forth into the base of your spinal cord, it causes all sorts of havoc to your nervous system. One guy I did this to is now a quadraplegic who dribbles when he smiles, and constantly shits himself. Another's only alive by life support. Apparently his brain still works full well, but the blade completely severed all incoming and outgoing signals to his body, so all he can do is look around. He can't even speak anymore... although from what I hear, he hasn't stopped crying since."

Maelstrom casually twists the knife into Dragan's skin, opening a vessel and allowing a light trickle of blood to escape down the back of his neck, before snarling these last few words into Dragan's ear. "There was one that died, of course. He went into convulsions that were so severe that apparently, he broke his own spine. But Dragan... you see what I'm getting at here. You're not afraid to die, so long as you take me with you. But what if you weren't to die? What if you were to spend the rest of your miserable life in a hospital bed, begging to be euthanized, unable to feel or move your own body."

Another casual twist of the knife, and Dragan's eyes go wide. "Dragan, all I have to do is push and it's going to be a long, miserable forty years for you. Call off your dogs before I have to perform impromptu brain surgery."

Dragan's eyes are wide with terror as he motions to his armed guards, who nod understandingly and file out the study door. Layla breathes a sigh of relief.at this, and she picks her shotgun back up from the floor. Maelstrom, his eyes upon Layla, nods towards the pile of documents on the table. As Dragan opens his mouth to protest, Maelstrom simply shushes him. His smile still hauntingly present on his lips, he nods to the criminal. "Just an insurance policy. If you decide to get cute and come after me once we let you go, then these come to light, and some of your business associates are going to be very disappointed in you. Understood?

Dragan barely has time to nod, before Maelstrom pulls him out of his chair, his knife still precariously angled to pierce his spinal cord, and escorts him back to the car as a hostage.

-

After dropping Dragan off in the wilderness, Layla turns to Maelstrom, who is casually wiping the blood from his knife off on his jeans. The question which had plagued her all night finally comes to the surface. "Just where did you learn that trick about circumventing nervous passageways, anyway?"

Maelstrom's attempts to conceal his grin finally fail. "I didn't."

"What?"

"I made it up, Layla. Dragan knows I'm a creative killer, so he assumed I was being honest. But come on - think about it for a second, will you?"

She glares at him, the incredulous smile on her face widening. "You... I can't believe this! You STAKED BOTH OUR LIVES... ON A BLUFF?!"

Maelstrom braces himself for any retribution. "Worked, didn't it?"

Shaking her head with disbelief, she pulls the rusty, smoking El Dorado over. "Of all the stupid things you've ever done..."

Maelstrom braces himself for a long walk back to the city. But Layla continues. "...this one was just brilliant! I love you!" Leaning over, she puts her hand on his thigh and smiles coyly at him. "But tell me... what incredible lie will you come up with to get out of this one?"

-

And so ends the story about how Maelstrom dealt with the ghosts of his past once and for all. Except for one last snippet of the tape, which begins to play one last time. " "And if my future is threatened because of my past, then what room does that leave for the present? What would poor Doug McClain do, after going through all that trouble of trying to make me laugh, only to have me distracted by what I should have dealt with ages ago? All that preparation, all that devious thought. The boy's after my own heart. The very least I could do is step forth and make this a night to remember. As a fond memory, or a recurring nightmare it doesn't matter, so long as he gets what he expects from me. And once my past is dealt with, the kid will be my only focus - as he deserves to be. So, this week, McClain... if you get the chance to hear this. All the shit I'll go through, all the danger I'll be in this week...

...Doug McClain, this one's for you." .