Alex Shelley looked hard into his own dark eyes in the reflection in the bathroom mirror. To the uninformed bystander, it may have appeared that he had actually entered into an absurd staring contest with himself. In reality, Shelley was studying his facial expression, mastering the art of masking his thoughts by hiding the telltale glimmer of sheer genius in his eyes. His face now reflected the blissful ignorance of an unquestioning minion, eyes glazed with a dull stupidity.

"Shelley, you handsome devil, you truly are something else," he laughed and gleefully slapped the sink, breaking character after he was certain he had the look perfected. "They'll be eating out of the palm of your hand."

Certain events had been set in motion at Sacrifice, and the Sabin-Nash match tonight was a pivotal moment in an extremely complex plan. It was up to him to ensure that everything went smoothly, and he was prepared to do anything to keep it that way.

The bathroom door swung open and Shelley forced his face back into its mask of ignorance, though he needn't have bothered.

"It's cool, man, it's just me," Johnny Devine held up his hand in assurance, checking over his shoulder to make certain that he hadn't been followed before letting the door shut behind him.

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared," Shelley said, relaxing. "Especially when someone refuses to use the secret knock."

"Sorry, dude," Devine shrugged with a boyish grin. "I keep forgetting it."

"I'm just busting your chops," Shelley said with his trademark smirk. "Is everything set?"

"Big Kev's good to go, and I was spying on Sabin getting a prep talk from Jerry Lynn – dude looks white as a ghost," Devine laughed.

"If he cracks up, let's hope he does it in the ring so I can get it on camera," Shelley replied, only half-serious. "Okay, it's on like Donkey Kong – and remember: no matter what happens, stick to the plan."


"They make it so easy sometimes, don't they?"

"The inevitable gay jokes?"

"Well, that too."

Raven and Jackie sat perched in the rafters of the building's open ceiling, watching as Shelley and Devine exited the washroom and casually made their way to the entrance tunnel to rendezvous with Kevin Nash. Raven shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm referring to our dim-witted duo's ill-conceived attempt at secrecy, however," he continued. "Johnny Devine slinking around backstage, continually looking over his shoulder in a blatant effort not to be followed. Thus, what is the next logical step?"

"We follow him," Jackie smiled.

"Precisely," Raven nodded. "And to nobody's surprise, he meets with Alex Shelley – in the bathroom, no less. Of all the ludicrous places to hold a private conversation, they choose the one room where absolutely any imbecile could waltz in, unannounced, and discover them. But I digress – while it may seem perfectly normal for Devine to seek out his partner, there is one very clear anomaly: he is doing so behind Nash's back. And since, for weeks, the two of them have been playing the roles of the star-struck pawns, fawning over Nash's every word and move, we can only conclude by this turn of events that-?"

"It's all an act," Jackie answered correctly again.

"And a convincing one, at that," Raven acknowledged her response with the slightest tilt of his head, "but nevertheless, just as we suspected." He stopped and considered this new information for a moment, rubbing his chin, and then a wicked grin spread across his face and he chuckled under his breath. "It's going to be so much fun enlightening my young soon-to-be protégé to these kind of revelations – the sort of secret knowledge that creates an unspoken bond of respect amongst the few true masterminds in this business. I wonder if any more of them suspect Shelley."

"Or if any are on to your plans for Sabin."

Raven scoffed loudly. "Impossible. No matter how observant or clever they consider themselves to be, you know very well that every last one of them is still a mere puppet in my demented funhouse."

By now, Shelley and Devine were long out of sight and their steel girder roost vibrated as Sabin's entrance music blasted throughout the building. Raven's eyes twinkled as he got to his feet, motioning for Jackie to follow suit.

"That's our cue. I've reserved us a spot on the catwalk above the ring. Best seats in the house to watch the slaughter."


Keep hitting him. As long as he's still standing, you've got to keep hitting him. Target the knees to chop him down and don't let him get a hold of you. You'll lose in a close-quarters brawl, so use your head and your speed and just keep hitting him.

Lynn's training lectures had become Sabin's internal monologue and he repeated the instructions over and over to maintain a trance-like focus. The hit-and-run tactics were working thus far; Nash had yet to connect with any effective power moves. And by talking to himself, he was successfully tuning out Shelley and Devine's seemingly endless arsenal of biting sarcastic remarks.

Keep hitting him.

Sabin rebounded off the ropes and flew at Nash with incredible quickness, leaping into the air and driving an elbow into Nash's jawbone. With both members of the Paparazzi throwing fits at ringside, Nash stumbled backward but did not fall.

As long as he's still standing, you've got to keep hitting him.

Sabin wasted no time and followed up with a perfectly executed enzuiguri. As his foot connected with the back of Nash's head with a sickening smack, he heard the big man grunt in pain as his senses were momentarily scrambled. But he was still on his feet.

Target the knees to chop him down and don't let him get a hold of you.

As Nash clambered to the turnbuckle to steady himself, Sabin backed into the opposite corner and took a running start at his opponent. Nash didn't see him coming until it was too late and both of Sabin's feet smashed into his kneecap with his patented Hesitation Dropkick. 'Big Kev' cried out in pain and finally dropped to one knee, hugging the one that had just been punished.

Then Sabin made his first mistake; seeing the other man downed, he foolishly abandoned his strategy and closed in to drive closed-fist shots into Nash's forehead. Enraged, Nash reached up and wrapped both hands around Sabin's throat, stood and carried him out to the middle of the ring. Sabin's eyes bulged as his legs dangled uselessly and he clawed at his captor's vice-like grip. Nash turned and effortlessly tossed him back into the turnbuckle like a human shot-put.

You'll lose in a close-quarters brawl, so use your head and your speed and just keep hitting him.

Sabin blinked hard and shook his head in an effort to clear the proverbial cobwebs and then scrambled out of the corner just as Nash came barreling at him like a runaway freight train. The big man rammed head-first into the turnbuckle and Sabin used the resulting momentary daze to scale the adjacent corner and land a missile dropkick between Nash's shoulder blades. In an attempt to capitalize on his building momentum, Sabin climbed outside the ropes and waited for Nash to unwittingly stagger into position before launching his body into a springboard cross-body press.

This was Sabin's second mistake. Nash, while winded, was still too aware and too strong, and the high-risk maneuver played right into his hands. He easily caught Sabin in mid-air, hoisted him above his head, and then simply let go and stepped out of the way as Sabin dropped the nine-plus feet to the mat. The landing took the air from his lungs and he was unable to move out of the way in time to avoid the follow-up elbow drop that smashed into the base of his skull.

Sabin rolled over, clutching the back of his head, and beyond the black spots that had appeared in front of his eyes he could see Nash arrogantly slapping high-fives with Shelley and Devine. He blinked hard for the second time that night, trying to clear his blurry vision, and when he opened them again his attention was caught by movement in the rafters above the ring. Jackie was sitting there with Raven, both of them leaning forward, watching intently. Jackie wore a look that mixed sincere regret with an 'I-told-you-so' smugness, but Raven's face was unreadable.

His eyes, however, were another matter entirely.

Aside from the ever-present psychotic intensity, Raven's eyes conveyed a sense of urgency, and even from this distance Sabin could detect the gleam within that seemed to serve as a message. Sabin stared, transfixed, and the sounds of the match and the crowd and everything else melted away; what was Raven trying to tell him?

A sharp pain brought him back to reality and Sabin clenched his teeth as Nash, who believed that he now had the match all-but won, hauled him to his feet by his hair. But a fresh flame had been kindled inside Sabin in that brief connection with Raven, and he lashed out with a flurry of solid kicks to the stomach, breaking Nash's grip and doubling him over. Burning with renewed determination, Sabin went to rebound off the ropes for another crippling dropkick to Nash's knees.

It was his final, critical mistake. So focused was he on the man inside the ring that he momentarily forgot about the men outside the ring. As Sabin hit the ropes, Shelley nonchalantly reached out and grabbed his ankle, tripping him. As Sabin wheeled around to retaliate, Shelley jumped back out of reach, innocently holding his hands in the air.

Scowling, Sabin ran at Nash again, but Shelley's distraction had been enough to allow his ally to regain his senses. Nash lifted his foot in the air and drove the heel of his boot into the soft cartilage of Sabin's nose.

Hot blood gushed down his face as Sabin crashed hard back to the mat, his head bouncing like a basketball. The black spots returned and refused to clear, and in his daze Sabin could not find a way to fight back as Nash dragged him up again by one arm, nearly tearing the shoulder out of its socket.

The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion as he first saw the mat and then the rafters, closer than they should have been. Time stopped there, and from his vantage point on Nash's shoulders he could make out the blurry figure of Jerry Lynn standing at the top of the entrance ramp. The disappointment practically radiated from him.

Then time sped up again, now moving lightning-fast, and Sabin had no chance to catch his breath before he was lifted up an extra foot and then sent plummeting back down. He barely heard the referee making the almost-unnecessary three-count as he caught one last fuzzy glimpse of Raven and Jackie's darkening forms disappearing from the catwalk before losing consciousness.