"Doooooo you know what happens when you back an animal into the corner, Yoshikazu YAZ?"

 

A young figure leaps into the corner, landing in a ready crouch. In the standard-issue Albertan uniform of a pair of bluejeans and an Edmonton Oilers jersey, young mister Sawyer looked... resolute.

 

He wore a tie-dyed bandana over his head and cheap black plastic sunglasses hid his eyes. Had to keep the mystique.

 

"That animal gets DESPERATE! VIOLENT! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAZED, EVEN!"

 

Tom slammed a fist into his other hand's palm.

 

"And there's no question that you and your mysterious plan has backed me into a corner. It's coming. I can feel it. The storm is on the horizon. THE RADAR HAS SHOWN IT COMIN' IN!"

 

Tom straightened, back even going so far as to arch. Shoulders back, chest out, turn to the side and point with a stabbing finger.

 

"AND IT'S YOUR DOING! YOU'RE THE RINGMASTER! YOU'RE THE PUPPET-MAN, STAN! AND I KNOW IT'S YOU!"

 

Tom ducked his head, pursing his lips as he adjusted those sunglasses. 

 

"I know it, cuz I can smell it. My bloodhound sniffer has led me right along your dastardly trail. And so I asked... NO! I DEMANDED THAT BUFFALO SLATER GOT WORD TO THE MATCHMAKER!"

 

Tom grinned, straightening and holding a hand out before him, index and middle finger miming walking.

 

"He toddled on up, taking my folder of evidence, my summary of your crimes... He got the okay, and now, I've got you in a match at the Grand Finale! Like any villain wouldn't be intending to unveil his grand scheme WITH ALL THE EYES ON HIM!"

 

Tom slammed that fist into his palm again.

 

"You're gonna look awfully funny tryin' to unveil some master plan WITH YOUR OWN MASK SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT, JACK!"

 

Tom brought himself to his full height of five foot seven. He puffed up his chest, tensing them muskles.

 

Tom wasn't quite as lanky and useless looking as he once was. He wasn't a vision of barrelchested superiority like a Box, or an unstoppable warmachine like a Light. But he did look like a Sawyer.

 

And that was enough.

 

"If you think you can walk your schemes and your plots and your plans into the Finale without any resistance, THINK AGAIN! Cuz when I get you in that ring, I'm gonna twist the truth right outta ya! I wanna know why you were talkin' to Goldman! I wanna know what you wanted from Claira! And I'm sure gonna find out why you were sayin' what you were sayin' to Heidi."

 

Like her or think she was a flipflopping punkass, Tom Sawyer respected Heidi's ability.

 

"There's a lotta possibilities who you are, YAZ. Names upon names, but I think I know exactly who you are."

 

Tom jabbed a finger at the camera.

 

"I think... No! I... know! I know that you are the Snake in Eden, YAZ! Whisperin' secrets and promises to anyone who'll take your ear."

 

Thoughtful pause, Tom holding still as if the old tape had frozen up for a moment.

 

"But.. In order to save this Garden, I've gotta drive all the snakes outta Ireland."

 

Tom took a moment, starin' at the videoscope, that finger pointed fixedly.

 

"Now... I may be no Saint Patrick. But I'm gonna go ahead and say this time around, I'm Saint Sawyer. You're the Lord of Lies."

 

Tom whirled, a boot effortlessly snagging and pitching that stool into the air! A hand snatched it up, and Tom whirled, smashing the stool against the wall! A twist, and the stool's leg parted from the rest! Fragments of wood and former seat tumbled away, leaving Tom with only the jaggedy leg.

 

Tom snatched his sunglasses off, revealing that had a serious case of the crazy-eyes going on and a wild grin on his lips.

 

"You see this, YAZ? I'm gonna have a Chair Leg of Truth when I get into that ring with you! I'm not gonna listen to your lies, I'm not gonna let you weasel your way out of your spiritual audit, and I'm bringin' a Holy Host with me!"

 

Tom reached out suddenly, grabbing the camera in one hand, dragging it forward. The cameraman stumbled, and the camera now had an upward view at Tom's face.

 

"Even when I wasn't here, I was watching over this place. And I've let the grass get too long, sucka."

 

Tom leaned in, one eye widening as the other squinted, a sudden twitch running up his face.

 

"A LITTLE PRUNING NEEDS TO BE DONE! AND THIS IS MY PLAYGROUND! THIS IS MY SANDBOX! THIS IS MY FUNHOUSE, AND IT'S TIME FOR ME TO TAKE OUT THE DETRITUS!"

 

Tom gave a big grin, shoving that camera backwards. The Chair Leg of Truth clattered to the floor, off-camera.

 

"I've been away for a little while, YAZ. And now that I come back, it seems like all of you dudes forgot just who I am. YOU GET TO BE THE REMINDER!"

 

Tom clenched both fists, slamming them into his chest.

 

"You can't catch me. You can't escape me! AND YOU CAN'T KEEP ME DOWN, NO MATTER WHO YOU REALLY ARE UNDER THAT MASK!"

 

Both eyes bulged wide, Tom's right index finger turning to crank upward, jabbing up as if to insert in a man's nostril offensively. BRAIN POKE!

 

"You can CRUSH MY BODY! You could BREAK my BONES! But you can NEVER break my spirit, Yoshikazu YAZ! And in the city of Mobile... On the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, I'm gonna find ya."

 

Tom clenched a fist, knuckles going white and popping and cracking as he flexed that hand.

 

"And I'm gonna hit ya."

 

That fist shook slowly before Tom's chest.

 

"And I'm not gonna stop hittin' ya, bringin' the noise and the violence and the pain and the funk until I see your face go all lumpy under that mask! I'm gonna catch your kicks and counter your moves, YAZ! And I'm gonna do it from sundown until sunup if I need to! I'll exhaust that time limit, and I'll go until DEFIANCE Security comes to drag us outta that ring to make room for the Main Event! I won't stay down from kicks to the head or Japanese spinal drops or complicated submission moves! Ya know why?"

 

Tom spun his fist around, index pointing.

 

"Ya know why, YAZ?"

 

Tom gave a maniac grin.

 

"Because you're threatenin' my sandbox. An' your plan's got me in the corner. And when an animal gets cornered... THAT ANIMAL GOES FOR THE THROAT! SO I'M GONNA GO... FOR THE THROAT!"

 

Tom lashed out with a hand, fingers clenching around an imagined throat. YAZ's throat. Hardcrash to black, Tom's maniacal glare and clawed fingers the last thing shown before the darkness.