A shadow lurks in the darkness as Eli Flair watches the ambulance leave. The whirring sounds of the ambulance’s sirens slowly wane as they fade off into the night and once again Eli is left alone with himself. Eli is beaten badly and he knows it. The shark lurking through the darkness also knows how weak Eli is from his match. Eli’s blood drips harmlessly to the parking lot pavement, splattering into tiny bits as it hits.

The silence that Eli is alone in vanishes quickly. The sounds of steel clanging in the air turns the battered Flair around on his feet. His one good eye scans the dimly lit parking lot, looking for a sign of life, a sign of anything.

"Rats in the pipes," Flair mutters to himself.

Eli shifts his weight and turns back toward the gaping hole the ambulance had driven through a few short minutes ago. His eyesight was bad enough to the point where he could still see an outline of the ambulance imprinted into the parking lot, like an imaginary wall. Eli shakes his head back and forth, trying to get the cobwebs out.

More sounds came from all of Eli’s sides. His overridden senses couldn’t take in all the sounds at once. The lurking figure watching Eli smiles darkly as Flair becomes more and more disoriented in front of his eyes. The ski mask was a snug fit across the figure’s face, but he takes great pleasure in watching Eli struggling as he comes to his senses.

The figure grips the baseball bat in his hands and taps it on the pavement. Up and down, trying to grab Eli’s attention. Eli finally catches sound of the bat and turns his head in its direction. Dragging his legs with great pain as he moves closer to the sound. The figure smiles maliciously through the darkness as his prey comes closer and closer. The figure presses his back firmly against a large concrete support as Flair continues to pull at his knees to get them to walk.

"Hello?" Flair calls out. His tired voice echoes through the massive garage. No reply comes from anywhere. The bat taps the concrete once more. "Hello?" His voice rings out, bouncing off the walls. The King of Extreme takes another step forward, now even with the support column that the figure is pressed against.

"Hell-" Flair gets cut off as the man steps around the column and swings the bat full tilt. The Louisville Slugger’s sweet spot connects with the jaw of Eli Flair’s face. The hard ash bat splinters in the hand of the figure that wields it. He steps over the downed Flair and smiles through his mask. He raises the bat above his head and brings it back down, straight into Flair’s sternum. The bat cracks for the second time, splinters fly in all directions. Another thrust plunges into Eli’s stomach. Flair coughs hard with the last thrust and blood begins to shoot up from his mouth.

A sinister smile comes across the figure’s face as he removes the ski mask. Specks of blood cover his face from Eli’s projection, this brings a wider smile to his face. He drops the bat and lets it innocently thud to the concrete. "Hello, hello," the figure yells into the darkness. Bending down on one knee, he puts his face close to the nearly unconscious Flair’s. "Nobody’s home, Eli," he whispers. "And the light swaying back and forth from a single string inside your head? Well it’s just about to go out, my old friend."

Reaching into his coat pocket for something, Flair began to cough again. Blood began to spray from Flair’s mouth into the air and speckling over the figure’s face. He didn’t seem to mind, however, and continued fishing through his pocket. The pair of brass knuckles had crimson red stains on them and the figure couldn’t help but grin as he fit them over his right hand. Admiring his handiwork thus far, he raises his right arm in the air. "You need another shiner to go with your broken eye," he whispers. The fist comes down hard across the side of Eli’s face, cracking under the force. It’s a miracle if Flair doesn’t wake up later with various broken orbital bones.

The figure leans over close to Eli’s right ear and whispers once more.

"Learn to swim, Elijah. Learn to swim."