A beautiful woman stands on a beach, her eyes hidden by huge 70s-style aviator sunglasses, a straw hat perched on her head against the sun. Her hair is long and black, and she smiles for the camera. Despite her gravid state, she is still beautiful.

Ice-blue.
Her eyes were ice-blue.

The voice is that of Jackson Kraven, the Tomorrow Man.

I never met her.
The doctors said she was never meant to have children.
Let alone one as big as me.

The picture blackens and twists, celluloid in flames, fades to nothing.

When she discovered she was pregnant, she was determined to have the baby.
If she'd lived, what would she have thought of me?
What would she have thought of her son?

Of mommy's little monster?

An unsmiling man fades out of the darkness, tall and stern, clad in army fatigues.

He hated me.
I destroyed her.

The screen flickers, and the tall man is older now, but still unsmiling. The grey in his hair was not there before.

I destroyed the one good thing in his life.
He hated me.
Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.

A second flicker, and the tall man is older still.

-Why do you always have to break things, boy?
-Why are you always so clumsy, boy?
-Why can't you be more like your mother, boy?

The voice is harsh, hateful, spiteful.

He died of cancer when I was fifteen years old.
He never forgave me.

The man crumples as the woman before him, leaving us in blackness again.

I went to live with my father's sister.
She'd never had children of her own.

A tall, iron-grey woman stares out of the darkness. She is tight-lipped, prim, proper.

She didn't know what to do with me- no-one did.

The tight-lipped woman is replaced by a shorter man in a maroon tracksuit and ball cap. A whistle hangs around his neck and a clipboard is cradled in the crook of one of his arms.

No-one knew what to do with me until I joined the football team.
I was a natural- my size and strength...

The screen flickers, and we see grainy camcorder footage of high-school football.
A huge boy in a maroon-and-black uniform crashes through offensive lines from the strong safety position time and time again, sacking quarterback after quarterback.

...I'd finally found something I was good at.

More boys fall before the maroon-and-black behemoth.

-Why do you always have to break things, boy?
-Why are you always so clumsy, boy?
-Why can't you be more like your mother, boy?

As we watch, the boy that would become the Tomorrow Man slams yet another opponent to the ground. As we watch, he pulls off his helmet and roars defiance at the sky.

I was the best player we ever had, but we were never good enough as a team to win anything.
Coach said if we'd had more players like me...

The screen flickers, and the man in the maroon tracksuit re-appears.

Coach died in 1999.
A heart attack.

The man in the maroon tracksuit crumples away to nothingness.

We didn't have more players like me.
We only had one.
And eventually, even that wasn't good enough.

We now cut back to camcorder footage. The bleachers are almost full, and the scoreline reads HOME 21, AWAY 18.

Eventually, I wasn't good enough.

We watch as the maroon-and-black behemoth barrels through the offensive line as he has done time and time again.
We watch as he hits the quarterback a split-second too late.

Time slows down, and we watch as the boy that would become the Tomorrow Man tears off his helmet in agonised desperation.
We see those ice-blue eyes follow the ball as it streaks towards the end-zone.
We see him drop to his knees.

-Why do you always have to break things, boy?
-Why are you always so clumsy, boy?
-Why can't you be more like your mother, boy?

I never played football again.

The footage crumples away, burns away to nothingness, and we are left with Kraven sitting in a chair in a spotlight. Photographs are strewn around at his feet, hundreds of photographs.

At Birthday Brawl, I wasn't good enough.

The Tomorrow Man picks up one of the photographs. It is of the moment he and Jake "The Ace" Spade won the CWL Tag-Team titles.

At Birthday Brawl, I wasn't even second-best.

Kraven holds a zippo lighter to the photograph, and it burns, crumpling away to nothing.

At Birthday Brawl, I was too confident.
Too cocky.
Too sure I was going to win.
Too sure I was going to become the WWA World Champion for a fourth time.

What happened?

Kraven picks up another photograph, of Dave Harley in his moment of triumph.

This is what happened.
This is what we now have as WWA World Heavyweight Champion.

The photograph burns.

I suppose I should be happy I'm not Shaman, lying in some hospital bed somewhere.

Kraven stares out at the camera, transfixing us with those laser-blue eyes like bugs on pins.

I suppose I should be happy I'm not Mal Somers, forced to watch as the man who was supposed to be my best friend cheats me out of what should rightfully be mine.

Hate burns behind those eyes, hate and pain and insane rage.

I suppose I should be happy I'm not Coach, or my father, or my mother.

I'm not happy.
Not at all.

The camera starts to close in on the Tomorrow Man, seemingly drawn to him by the inexorable force of his gaze.

On Meltdown, I'm not scheduled for a match, but I'll be there.
On Meltdown, the Tomorrow Man will be watching, waiting...

Closer, closer to those demon eyes...

-Why do you always have to break things, boy?
-Why are you always so clumsy, boy?
-Why can't you be more like your mother, boy?

Closer still, so close we can almost see the blood pulse in the capillaries, so close that we can almost see the spark of madness dancing behind them....

On Meltdown, someone will pay.
On Meltdown, someone will feel my wrath.

Closer still, so all that is the left is the black of Kraven's pupil...

On Meltdown, someone...

Kraven chuckles.

...has No More Tomorrows.