Lance Evers knew what his role was with CSS. He knew that he’d been brought in for one reason, to finally give some direction to the ragtag bunch that made up the group. Lance also knew that the Canadian Superhero Society desperately needed it.

Edge was nothing more than a castoff sidekick who had begun to try and make a name for himself as the main hero in Toronto. Since taking that role, he had developed quite well into a superhero. He still had some very important things to learn about being a superhero, but he was progressing quite nicely. His sidekick was not the best of choices, though. Christian was the ultimate anti-hero. He was self-absorbed and often would try to upstage Edge in everything. He’d managed to do so a couple of times, but nothing that could be re-molded.

Lance often wondered about the other members though. Why was there a woman included in the group? Especially one whose main function seemed to be to distract the heroes so that they couldn’t complete the task at hand. True, she was a sight to see. But that never seemed to come in handy. Well, other than the time she used her feminine wiles to help subdue the big, slow, Giant who’d been terrorizing the Great Northwest for a time. She was truly more hindrance than help though. Lance was certain he could do something with her though.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three Years Ago . . .

Yoshihiro had taken some odd hit contracts in his life. Some very odd ones indeed, but this one was beyond a shadow of doubt the weirdest the ‘Japanese Buzzsaw’ had ever taken. Kill one of two men? How much odder could it get?

“Oh well,” he mused aloud in Japanese. “The money is well worth it.”

For several years now he had been working as a hit man to help support the rising cost of his father’s medical care. His father had sustained a very critical injury in a fight with the monster known only as Kane. The injury would have killed most men. But his father was not like most men. Yoshihiro Tajiri was the son of the man known only as The Great Muta. That in itself was reason to be proud.

Muta had taken on Kane in a fight over the tallest mountain in North America only to find himself broken and beaten. Yoshihiro was determined to care for his father after that. The best money he had ever made was when he took a contract to kill a man who had been caught stealing secrets from the American government. That money had helped keep his father alive. Yoshihiro knew that it wouldn’t last forever and became a self styled hit man for hire to keep an inflow of money to pay for the medical care his father needed.

He had become the ‘Japanese Buzzsaw’ as a way of hiding his own identity from the world. Now he had an opportunity to put himself into a position that would give him the help he needed to get his hands on the monster Kane. But somehow, he had never thought that the man who’d introduced himself as simply ‘Rob’ would have been his ticket.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Today . . .

He was the legendary masked man. Everyone in the superhero communities around the world knew that his arrival would spawn a new era of superheroes. He had sat idly by watching the exploits of the current crop of heroes and knew that his time was drawing near. Slowly he pulled his mask over his head and began to lace it up.

“Soon,” he said to the darkness around him. “Soon it will be the time of the greatest battle of heroes and villains ever. One that will change the world. And one that I would be out of my mind to miss.”

No one replied in the darkness that surrounded him, but he knew that Undertaker was there and could hear him. Little did he know that there was more than just Undertaker there. As he tightened the laces on his mask he felt the power coursing through him. The power of the Luchadore. The power that was his to harness and use to destroy even the most evil of men.

With that power running it’s way through his veins he took to the sky and flew off into the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Angleman had been travelling with Undertaker and Rock for some time now and still had no idea where they were headed. The one thing he did know was that Rock did not like him. Rock viewed him as a happy-go-lucky moron who was too much of a geek to be associated with in a normal circumstance. But these were very different than normal circumstances. These were times when Rock would not be able to overcome the evils of the world himself.

‘And that is why they need me,’ Angleman thought to himself silently. ‘That is why they have put their own hatred for one another aside. That is why they chose me to help them. They need the best there is in the business today. What an honor.’

“Angleman! Know your role and shut your mouth,” Rock broke Angleman’s thoughts up. “Rock can hear your thoughts and is getting just a little sick and tired of the self serving attitude you have! What an honor? What a load of monkey-crap! It may be an honor for you to be alongside of the two legends that you’re traveling with, but for Taker and Rock it’s nothing more than a major annoyance, Jabroni!”

“Rock, enough. He has more than held his end of the bargain. Now you keep yours and leave the kid alone,” Undertaker intoned in his droning monotone voice. “He is along because we will need his assistance. And before you go into your patented little tirade about how The Rock don’t need anyone’s help, remember this . . . I can leave you here in this limbo Rock. Left to suffer the knowledge that you have been thrust out of the spotlight and back into the nowhere from whence you came. And Angleman, stop thinking. It’s not your strong suit.”

With that the argument was over just as quickly as it had been started.

Matthew Hardy had always enjoyed a great party. In fact, he looked forward to nearly 98.72% of the parties that he was invited to. He loved the fact that he could go somewhere to let off 7.49% of the irritation of his position with minimal effort on his part. Even his 2.3 drinks had meaning in every one of them. But this party somehow struck Matthew Hardy as different from the rest. There was something that made it seem only about 74.02% right.

This was the right place. This was the right party. But there was exactly 0% of the right people. Jeffrey was nowhere to been seen and Gregory had disappeared earlier in the night. Matthew was 65.8% certain that something was amiss, but he couldn’t tell what.

She had seen him before. She knew that he was Matthew Hardy. She knew that he was one of the heads of the highly successful HHH Networks corporate conglomerate that was even now celebrating it’s total dominance of all forms of media.

She also knew that she was meant to be with him. She knew it in her gut. She’d known it ever since the day that they had first met at a HHH Networks corporate party nearly two years ago. Yes, Amy Dumas knew that she would be Mrs. Matthew Hardy someday. But she would have to get his attention first.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two and a half years ago . . .

When Rob had first met Yoshihiro Tajiri, he thought nothing of him. To Rob, he was just another Japanese tourist who had come looking for the most extreme things that America had to offer. When Rob noticed that Yoshihiro had stayed longer then most normal tourists he began to take more notice of him. Eventually Yoshihiro even got brave enough to step up to Rob and issue a challenge of skills. Rob had to admit that he was rather amazed at the challenge but didn’t hesitate to take the challenge. The night that Rob was to meet Yoshihiro to determine who was the better martial artist, he had an upsetting visit from a completely strange man.

The enigmatic Dreamer faded into view in front of Rob.

“Rob, I know why you are here. Be cautious,” Dreamer warned Rob, “Yoshihiro Tajiri is the only son of the Great Muta. The man who first trained you in the deadlier martial arts. He knows more than you could even begin to imagine.”

And then Dreamer was gone.

Rob met Yoshihiro in the back of his own private gym where they had both been coming regularly for several weeks. Rob, because it was his gym. Yoshihiro, to find the best America had to offer.

“American Ninja,” Yoshihiro Tajiri addressed him.

“Not anymore. Now I’m just plain old Rob Van Dam,” Rob pointed to his shoulders with his thumbs to emphasize the name. “And you seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you, man. So why don’t give me a brief history on your life? Kinda get me up to speed, ya know?”

As Rob listened to Tajiri’s story of Muta and what had happened to him, the newest elite force that Rob was putting together began to arrive for a show that promised to be more informative than entertaining. The enigmatic Dreamer faded into view well out of the way of the participants. While the genetic freak Raven lowered himself from the rafters to get a closer look at what was about to occur.

Then from out of the shadows that he would wrestle with for the remainder of his life stepped Rob’s mentor, The Hitman. He would be the one to referee this contest of skills. It would be fair. It would be called down the middle. No one would feel that they had been screwed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Today . . .

The Orange Goblin walked through the lobby of the immense building that was HULK HQ. As he gazed levelly around him, he noticed that right next door was the main offices of the extremely successful HHH Networks. The Orange Goblin half smiled.

It had been a good number of years that he knew the owner of HHH Networks. The Orange Goblin had first met him when he was nothing more than just a student of science. Those were good days indeed. For the first time he had met someone as cunning and ruthless as he was. It felt good to reminisce every so often.

Ed was busy running off at the mouth about all of the things that they had accomplished in such a short span. The Orange Goblin ignored most of the chatter as he thought about what he should do with what little time he had left before the great battle would begin.

The Orange Goblin knew all about the great battle. In fact, it had been the Goblin’s idea at first. But then he had been betrayed by the cerebral assassin that he had helped to groom. What irony he had found in that. The man he wanted to groom to take his place as the pre-eminent evil in the world had beaten him down and forced him to re-evaluate his plans. He was angry and proud at the same time.

Ed continued to yammer, not even noticing when Goblin left the room to get something to drink. When the Orange Goblin returned, Ed was still talking up a storm. Goblin ignored him and went into what he would come to call his ‘war room.’

Then the Orange Goblin gathered everything in the room up and began to set up an elaborate maze of an office. When Ed walked in to see what he had been up to, the Orange Goblin turned and destroyed Ed with the largest EGO bomb he had ever thrown. Then he left HULK HQ heading for HHH Networks famed Titan Towers.

The Orange Goblin never looked back.

That would be his first mistake.

Two weeks prior . . .

Michael Foley had taken more than one shot at super-stardom in his life. He’d played a decent sized role in a television series based out of Atlanta, did some voice over work for a cartoon produced in Philadelphia, and had even appeared in a few sitcoms on the prestigious HHH Networks.

But somehow, the voices in his head kept talking him into destroying the opportunities of working in television. Everything he had accomplished to this point he had done on his own, but the pitfall of his career had been the voices in his head. Although he did have to admit, when the voices got the best of him, it made for some great television.

When he got the call from Jeffrey Hardy at HHH Networks saying that they were willing to give him one last shot at making television history, Michael “Mick” Foley could hardly say no. If only he’d known what they had in mind for him, he might have changed his mind and walked away from the business he had grown to love with all his heart. Even if the voices told him that he wasn’t good enough.

* * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, in Minnesota . . .

Brock had been training hard for the majority of his short life. He knew that he was only twenty-three years old, but for some reason he also knew that he had the strength of three men his age. Deep inside Brock knew that he had made the right choice. Minnesota had once had a superhero, but he had fallen be the wayside and gone into politics instead of fighting for what he knew to be right. Brock had noticed that the ideals that they both fought for were the same, but that they had different methods of getting there.

Brock had made the decision back when he was only six to become a superhero. The biggest obstacle that he faced was his total lack of super-powers. Undaunted he would begin training at this young age to be the best machine for justice that he could be. But now, at twenty-three, he was finding that the lines between good and evil were becoming much more blurred than they had ever been before. He suspected that television was the main cause of this.

If he only knew how close to the truth he was.

Brock had benefited from being the only son of a wealthy cheese maker. Because of this, he had been able to attend the best schools, and get the best physical training that anyone could have. All of this would serve him well in the time to come. And Brock knew that his time was almost here. Brock knew that is was almost time for him to unveil the next big thing in the ranks of those who fought for justice around the world. Brock knew that it would be up to him to change the world for the better.

How he would do it was still beyond him though.

* * * * * * *

The masked man flew on into the darkness that was his eternal night.

His determination to show the world that there was nothing more powerful than the power of the Luchadore tore at him. He knew that he would need to keep those feelings in check or risk falling to the pride that caused so many of his brethren to fall. Though how he had managed to last this long was beyond him.

Then it happened.

The portal opened in the exact spot that Luchadore had predicted. Out stepped the Undertaker, Rock, and Angle-Man. Never once did any of them flinch. It was as though they were the stuff of legend. As unreal as the moment felt, the masked man was the first to speak.

“You made it. Exactly as it was predicted,” he exclaimed as though it weren’t a forgone conclusion.

“As have you young Luchadore. Now the question begs to be asked,” Undertaker intoned in his monotone voice. “What shall we call you?”

“My name is Rey. Rey Misterio, last keeper of the Luchadore.”

“It doesn’t matter what your name is! All that you need to know,” Rock interjected into the conversation, “Is that you have been chosen for one monumental task. You have been chosen to be the distraction that will finally bring the Rock back . . .”

“Enough! This is not the time Rock,” Undertaker warned in a voice that hinted at timeless anger. “Rey Misterio, meet Rock and Angle-Man. They will be two of the chosen four. Your role will be to help us to find the others. Are you ready for it? Cause if you take this spot, I promise you, I’ll make you famous.”

With that, Rey Misterio stepped into the portal and called back to Rock, Angle-Man and Undertaker, “Are you guys coming?”

* * * * * * *

Today

Mick arrived at the posh suite that HHH Networks was providing him with expecting some sort of reception. A welcoming committee at the very least. But there was nothing. No flowers, no card, no sign that anyone had done anything to make him feel welcomed to the networks. He immediately began to feel as though he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That’s when it began to go bad.

From out of the bathroom, Mick heard the most ungodly sound that he had ever heard in his life. And the voices crept back into his head again. He had spent so much time with the voices he even had names for them. One he called Mankind because of his total lack of respect for man in general and the other he called Cactus Jack. Why he called the voice Cactus Jack was beyond him. The best explaination he had come up with was that it fit the voice. But that was all beond him now as they both came flooding into his head. Neither one could say anything good about what was going on and that bothered Mick even more. The sounds from the bathroom grew louder.

Then Mick saw something that he never wanted to see. It would also be the last thing he saw before blacking out.

Kane.

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