Post by DVS on Jan 11, 2015 8:15:10 GMT -5
A large robotic clamp bear hugs the headless, lifeless, beaten, destroyed remains of the Abominable Malicious Stromination – Commander of the Stromagnus Command of Universal Militants; or better known across the Galaxy as S.C.U.M. His steel chest is caved in, and his barbaric robot arms are torn to bits. The clamp carries Stromination and places him in the center of a cybernetic intensive care unit surrounded by the little beeps and whistles associated with any sort of medical facility. He's displayed – an enlarged war wound for the S.C.U.M. Govenmental Unit, or the Federal Universal Command Kliq of the Eternal Resource Society; The S.C.U.M. F.U.C.K.E.R.S.
Another clamp is holding what remains of Malicious Stromination's head; a robotic meatball, or the resemblance of a steel prune. The human visage once stretched across the robotic skull has been torn to shreds and any identification destroyed. But, this is most definitely the Robotic Hellstorm – born from the twisted Pacific nightmare of a bulbous olive colored Anime nerd and here now on Earth, manifested from some far distance crevice of the deep unknown. The robotic arm carries the head to the torso and places it where it belongs. No, not on the crotch, but capped on the neck.
One of the flat panel monitors displays the title of this mad science experiment: 'OPERATION MALIGNUS STROMBOLI'. Then, a countdown. Or, is it just the time? Either way, the countdown has yet to begin, and is currently stagnant at 8:00. Then, an alarm. Ringing. Annoying, obnoxious ringing. Many robotic arms begin to dazzle and whirl around the body of Malicious Stromination. One, a torch, welds the organisms neck and head together. Another – a large magnet that begins to accurately remove dents from steel. Then there's the few that have torn the steel crotch from the cybernetic commander and began installing an unnecessarily large cannon barrel certain to distribute heat sensing missiles at an irrational and unorthodox rate. The ringing continues.
The alarm continues to sound as another robotic hand implants a tiny SD card into a slot just above the right eye, and the same above the left. A second flat panel displays the information being uploaded by a refurbished processor and motherboard. The largest file uploaded is a detailed dossier on the destruction and punishment of the Galactic Bad Ass, the most rascally deviant in all of the solar system, the Prince of Puttin' A Hurtin' on a MotherFucker, and the Lord of Deviants – The Super Deviant, Dan Van Slade. Malicious Stromination's eyes glow red. The alarm sounds. Black. The alarm ends. Light.
The dream is over. Another day begins for Dan Van Slade; the Super Deviant.
The Eye of the Storm.
From the Office of Dr. Perciful Lee
4223 Benjamin Harrison Parkway
Lincoln, NE 68542
4223 Benjamin Harrison Parkway
Lincoln, NE 68542
Dan Van Slade and I were friends the moment we met. We were not the most common match within the fabric of the Universe, but he understands what I'm looking for. I understand him, of course. It's exactly what was needed. Let's not make this too homoerotic. The point of this essay is not to analyze my relationship with a narcissistic professional wrestler with borderline personality disorder and a terrible case of performance anxiety; no – it's to define him.
When the time is right – he'll understand.
Before I begin this assessment with a deduction of the man who currently calls himself 'The Super Deviant' – I must first discuss the positive Dan Van Slade. There's truly something special about him, despite his self-destructive nature. There's an electricity that surrounds him. It's a sudden burst of energy – something you get when you're able to play with your child for the first time, or your favorite toy. You don't want it to stop. His actions are often sickening and unjustifiable, but it's entertaining. He doesn't understand that what he's doing is perfectly OK. He's the epitome of his profession; adults dressed in costume and fighting each other to the appeasement of a live audience. He's doing exactly what he needs to do – whoop ass at an entertaining level.
The Super Deviant is also special for the shear fact that he's an athlete. He's a well trained, conditioned athlete. I've counseled hundreds of gifted individuals and not one has been as athletic as Dan Van Slade. I've been to Cleveland Cavaliers games when LeBron was good, and it doesn't match up. Odell Beckam's three finger touchdown snag – doesn't come close. Michael Phelps without the bong – Dan Van Slade's better, faster, and stronger. The Man could easily be a God.
Even Gods have their flaws. There's a contrast, of course.
There's a few issues with the Dan Van Slade personality. One – his tremendously rash behavior and choice of verbiage. Two – narcissism. Three – a reckless life philosophy. Four – lack of humane morals. Five – a dreamer. Six – and the list just goes on-and-on to even include drug abuse, alcoholism, etc. He has absolutely no problem not caring. However, with a sudden Kierkegaardian either/or flip – he's found himself questioning his choice of careers. Another flaw – he's somewhat of a hypocrite.
Getting to know Dan Van Slade is like following the boy in school who always found a way to challenge the status quo at a level that peaks beyond self-gratification and lands into the sphere of deviance. Mayhem personified. The person who thrives on chaos.
Dan's dilemma stems from recent consequences.
Since I intend to turn my work on Dan Van Slade into a masterpiece of literature I must continue to define the character through what he does. Dan is a professional wrestler for the largest wrestling promotion in the industry, and a company that's thrived over time and has challenged the industry over the years to much success. The Wrestling Championship Federation, or better known as the WCF. A fourteen year old company that doesn't quit; albeit it's been on strike a few times due to industry regulations that held them out of the prime time slot. It's what some of my clients call: 'The Bees Knees.'
Dan signed with WCF in November. He debuted six days later. His in-ring prowess is tough to defend. He's the universal absolution of the physical specimen – a joy to watch inside a ring even if you don't appreciate professional wrestling like the smarks do.
Prior to his claim in WCF – Dan was denied by two promotions. These companies denied Dan based on his shoot, and this shouldn't come as much of a surprise. His vocabulary is littered with nonsense and a multiplicity of quadrilaterals, while he nonchalantly tears into the personal life and mocks the opposition. He's a trash-slingin' Western bandit who shoots with the best of them, but he takes no prisoners and places it between the eyes. He wants you to see it; uncensored and remarkably sharp. It cuts deep.
This could be another reason tacked onto the many that deters Dan's interest in prolonging his career in professional wrestling. He's since changed his demeanor, and our sessions have been successful. He's found reason in his denial of all-things considered, and with that a hope to further his future and enhance his dream. He did win a spot to face Steve Orbit, one of the best the industry has to offer, for the WCF Hardcore Championship. In his first match – nonetheless.
The most important factor of his disposition are the losses that occurred to start the month of December. Two straight, one – a tag team match pairing him with the character Maelstrom against two of WCF's finest pedestal athletes – The Poondock Saints, or Bobby Cairo and Kaz Mazy. Then again – against Jayson Price, Maelstrom, Seifer Black and Stuart Slane at the most coveted of WCF events – WCF ONE. The best advice to give anybody in this scenario is to not beat themselves, and strive on. There were many factors at play. With each loss came another piece to the deviant puzzle, and with each piece came another opportunity to succeed in creating the bigger picture.
Fortunately for Dan – he's two-for-two in singles competition. He does have a tag team match on the horizon, but he is a man that learns from lessons. The latter statement seems estranged when thinking back to what's already been said about the character, but when it comes to his profession – he does care. It's as simple as that. With his most recent victory at the last episode of SLAM against the Human Hellstorm, Maelstrom, his high hopes for a graceful career were satisfied.
The Super Deviant. I'm not saying that I necessarily condone a human being to act out their deepest aspirations, because many are not pragmatic in certain settings, but the Super Deviant is the perfect fit for Dan Van Slade's modus operandi with WCF. His deepest aspiration was to be a Super Hero, although the most pragmatic for our society was to be a professional wrestler. So, to think outside the box, why couldn't he try (and we use that word appropriately) to be a Super Hero while being a professional wrestler? Trying never hurts, of course, unless it's a steel folding chair across the skull – in that case – it hurts like a son of a bitch. If you're me, of course.
Dan is smart enough to realize that what he's doing is not going to harm his future. This is creating his future. With every match, and with every superstar that steps in his path, a more powerful and challenging Dan Van Slade is born. It's a never-ending cycle, and the losses do not matter. His presence is eternal. His power is unmatched. His personality – indestructible like the matter that creates his existence.
Dan is also smart enough to realize that the biggest enemy in the pool of villains is himself. Dan challenges Dan. The Super Deviant is always at odds with his vision, a perception that tends to alleviate Dan from a normal lifestyle. Normal by whose standards? I shrug. If there's anybody that's going to constantly defeat Dan Van Slade – by God it's going to be Dan Van Slade. Not the tandem of Caleb Collins and Warpath. Not Maelstrom. Not Steve Orbit, or Seth Lerch.
The Super Deviant.
Transcript
Session #117 | Client: Dan Van Slade | 023 | January 8, 2015
From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Perciful Lee: “I applaud your performance.”
The Super Deviant: “Thank you. Say, Doc, since I'm a super hero now – don't you think you should change my name on your documents to The Super Deviant? It'd build my identity. I can't fuck this up.”
Perciful Lee: “Noted. It'll be changed after this session.”
The Super Deviant: “You're the fuckin' man, sir.”
Perciful Lee: “No, YOU'RE the fuckin' man, sir!”
The Super Deviant: “And they all wonder why I came to you? Bastards – don't know their left testicle from the right. Fuck'em – I don't care if career counseling is for sissies, or if I'm a moron for even thinking this was the wrong choice. Fuck'em – they don't know how fuckin' rad we are as human beings, Percy.”
Perciful Lee: “I love life. That's the secret. Nothing gets me down. I don't care about all the bullshit, and I see it how I see it. That's why I do what I do. I build winners through the idea of self-gratification and freedom. You have every right to want success – it's the dream of the human species, and I want you to obtain it. Nothing is impossible, my friend.”
The Super Deviant: “Fuckin' A, Doc. The shit you say should be able to cure cancer! Suck me sideways...my mind's been fuckin' blown.”
Perciful Lee: “Glad to help.”
The Super Deviant: “Well, my mind has been blown since last Sunday when I straight FUCKED Maelstrom UP, ya'dig?”
Perciful Lee: “You were certainly better than Maelstrom.”
The Super Deviant: “Jesus Horace-Hogan Christ – I beat the living SHIT out of him, Percy! Every inch of my body feel like they've won the Mega Millions; I'm in the absolute best shape of my life! Maelstrom, that shirt sellin' fuck-stick, he felt the indestructible power and Godly ass-beating of the Intergalactic Deviant Destroyer, the Super Deviant; motherfuckin' DAN VAN SLADE, SON!”
Perciful Lee: “Do you enjoy knowing that you're a super hero? It certainly seems so. You're acting on
your ambition. I think it's brilliant. I think you're brilliant. I know that you'll do just fine.”
The Super Deviant: “I know. There's nothing stopping me. NOTHING. There's not a man in this company that will end the omnipresent and omnipotent Super Deviant. I'm indefuckin'structable, Percy!”
Perciful Lee: “Isn't it great to feel defined? To feel pleasure? To be incessantly happy because you're slowly reaching the pinnacle of your life? All because you've decided to disregard the opinion of others. Once you've clamped down on the perception of others – the eternal and everlasting plane of existence becomes crystal clear. There's absolutely nothing stopping you, you are correct.”
The Super Deviant: “Well, it's definitely great because I already knew I was the fuckin' greatest thing since sliced bread. I'm the Prince of Hipton, descendant of the great God of the Stars, Jebediah Von Super Deviant – The devout King of Hipton. The almighty seed of Intergalactic Royalty. You can't fuckin' stop Intergalactic Royalty. Not when every individual of the Super Deviant clan, Maximum Deviance, is a one-man army willing and ready to destroy any creature seeking to prey upon the success of our passion. We will NOT let any villainous pile of cat shit pacify the mighty utopia we've begun to build.”
Perciful Lee: “You've built a story around your character – it's a fantastic touch.”
The Super Deviant: “E True Hollywood, ya'fuck. But, this is some non-fiction shit. I'm not fuckin' with you when I say that I came to this world to stand tall over the lifeless bodies once called the WCF Roster. This isn't just a story, Doc. This is life. This is my mission.”
Perciful Lee: “I'm curious – how do you feel about being teamed with Maelstrom for a second time?”
The Super Deviant: “Typical. I beat the motherfuckin' shit out of the guy, and then the WCF booking crew thinks it's absolutely hilarious to make the vegetable my partner against two NOBODIES. I couldn't give a rat's ass about Warpath, or Caleb Collins. It seems to me that even Caleb Collins doesn't give a winged fuck about Caleb Collins. So, the Malicious Stromination has three heads, now? That's always better than one. You can bring more of your little Strominites to our battle, but the fact is – I'm still going to slice'n'dice and kick the living shit out of you. Let me put it to you straight – the Human Hellstorm, regardless of whatever beat poetry he spills this week, or whatever luck falls into his lap coming out of this competition – he's over. OVER. This is just the eye of the storm, Percy. The calm. A little rain. Some thunder. Lightning. Then the winds pick up, trees oddly bend, automobiles get pushed down the road by Hellacious gusts. A WHOLE HELLUVA LOT OF DESTRUCTION.”
Perciful Lee: “So, this isn't going to be the end of it? And – who's Malicious Stromination?”
The Super Deviant: “Malicious Stromination is the combination of all my enemies into a cybernetic android organism set to destroy the Super Deviant. The Strominites of the Strominant Star Band, the SCUM FUCKERS Galactic Unit; a defiant brand of Intergalactic Police seeking my arrest for being the best motherfucker of all the Solar System. They are not a fan of the Super Deviant. This isn't the end, by any chance, Percy. This will NEVER be the end. Maelstrom and I have come too far to end our affairs against two pansy-ass cocksuckers, one who wears a bitch-ass white mask, and another who is just a walkin' hairless vagina. The shirt salesman's attempt to sideline the Super Deviant WILL come to an end, eventually. But, he's too much fun, Percy. He's giving me all the practice I need for when I step into the ring with Steve Orbit and beat the Mack back to Africa. I love the practice. I love that Maelstrom enjoys getting his ass kicked by the Super Deviant. I love that there's a long line of assholes preparing and waiting behind Maelstrom to get their asses handed to them on a platter made of premium Hipton silver mined from the craters and caverns of the hippest planet in our Universe.”
Perciful Lee: “You've done all that you need to do – now you just have to follow through. No excuses, Dan. None. You have to go into this match with three very strong and tough competitors, and you have to show them why your power is unmatched. You MUST show them why you're the TRUTH, the FUTURE...why you're...THE SUPER DEVIANT.”
The Super Deviant: “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck THAT! I'm going to super poke Warpath, and down he'll go. I'm going to super bitch-slap the faith out of Caleb Collins, and down he'll go. I'm going to flatten Maelstrom's bald head so that he'll look like Frankenstein, rip his nose off, poke an eye out, beat him with his own foot, shove a few of his toes down his throat, perhaps drag some of his finger nails across a chalk board, and break his ankles with a few select weapons. I've also thought of replacing his eyes with his testicles. Perhaps his vision would carry more testicular fortitude? Fuck'em, I could care less. I'm just hungry to demolish some weak-ass bitches and move on to the ultimate showdown between me and Steve Orbit so that I can fuck him up, and then move on to better opponents. I'm tired of this middle-card bullshit, man.”
Perciful Lee: “You've got to pay your dues, Dan.”
The Super Deviant: “Dues? Fuck that. Fuck it. Warpath – hopefully he learned something last week, and hopefully he's prepared to get his ass stomped by my righteous boot. We all know that I've learned to take a few losses, eat'em for breakfast, and move forward. That's my advice to him, that masked jerk. Don't get in my way, because I stop for nothing and won't hesitate to ruin your career. Personally – I hope he's a flat chested broad behind that pansy mask he wears. I don't wear a mask. I don't have a secret identity. I don't hide. What you see is what you get – because I'm a true motherfucker. I beat ass. I take names. Ask my partner! So, while Warpath and Caleb Collins toss each others salad in one corner of the ring – Maelstrom and I are going to show the world what WCF is all about. Bring ya'fuckin' A game. BRING IT. And, that goes for Maelstrom, too. I aint fuckin' around on Sunday. I'M NOT FUCKIN' AROUND. Your world is over. OVER! Eye of the fuckin' STORM, baby! EYE OF THE STORM!”
[TO BE CONTINUED]