Post by Wade Moor on Jan 30, 2016 1:01:40 GMT -5
Prologue: Hungry Moon
MOON.
THAT HUNGRY MOON.
SKINNY FRAIL MISERABLE MOON.
The night as light as day, the moonlight flooding down across the land and bringing misery. Bringing too the call of the night, the soft and wild voice of the wind roaring through the hairs on your arm, the hollow wail of starlight, the grinding bellow of the moonlight off the water. It was enough to make one sick to their stomach or howl in pleasure,
that moon.
We are each others slaves. One can't exist without the other.
And tonight, it was hungry.
It asked - nay, demanded - but I was there to answer it's need. It always knew what was best for us,
that moon.
It cooed when I selected the target, squealed in childish delight...and it nearly fainted when I chose my method. If the Moon enjoyed anything more than being fed, it was playing games. It loved playing games...
And I was it's favorite playmate. I always had the best ideas. It loved me,
that moon.
I landed as an Owl, perched upon a tree. I looked through the window and saw his eager eyes, ready and willing, only looking for a reason. The branch extended like withered hands to snatch the child, and that was all it took. He was in my grasp, and it smiled satisfied,
that moon.
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
*buzz static*
"Is this how you imagined closing the doors on your WSeaF career Price? Staring down the ring at Wade Moor? The Leviathan? Or maybe you imagined more pomp and circumstance? Some confetti falling down from the rafters as the roster poured out onto the entrance ramp and sang your praises? Jayson Price. 'Mr. Every Title'. The longest reigning Cruiserweight Champion of his time. Unfortunately, stopped dead by THE GREATEST WORLD CHAMPION OF ALL TIME.
"What? This isn't a career ending match, you say? It might as well be, because after I'm through with you? You're going to wish your career was over Price. That's what I've done to so many others before you. People come at Godnilla, that pretty head of theirs full of steam, and run face first into a BROSEIDON PUNCH. They're so dazed, they don't even know how to pick up the pieces.
"Look at Grayson Pierce. He's the prime example. A once promising career, number one contender for the World Championship, the main event of One...and now look at him. Forming a band of riff raff miscreants to try and combat #BeachKrew, like we're the ones who ruined his life. Fighting for another chance for the World Champion - against Joey Flash, no less - all just to repeat history. WSeaF can't have any more dead children's blood on it's hands...
"But you were the first, weren't you Jayson? The first to feel that cold and bitter sting. The Child's Curse, I've taken to calling it. That was before it was cool to have a dead kid, right? Back before it afforded you a little momentum and got you a World Championship match, huh? That was back when you had to face the harshest of realities...that your child was dead, and it was all your fault.
"You weren't able to protect it, were you? When our triumphant leader, Seth Lerch, sent the Treachorous Logan after the mother of your child...and his very own sister. How cold blooded do you have to be? Well...this is the same guy who put you in your very last World Championship match against me, so...I'd have to say the man's blood runs as ice.
"So at Fifteen we find ourselves across the ring from each other Price...and the stakes have never been higher for you. Your very last shot at the World, the World that I hold in my hands. I'm your greatest enemy Price...and I bet you don't know the first thing about me or what I'm capable of.
"Do you know where I came from? Do you know what I've done to get where I am? The blood I've spilled, mine and my enemies? Or are you just going to rest on your laurels and convince yourself that this match is going to be a cakewalk for you? You'll ask yourself: who is this young buck? This fucking noob holding on to what's rightfully mine, what's been mine for years and years? That World Championship don't even fit around his waist he's so fat. You'll tell yourself the easy things, like you're somehow 'better' than me, like you know what it takes to 'defeat' The Leviathan, because the pill that's easiest to swallow is favorable right?
"I don't deal in favorable, Jayson. I'm the Dream Eater, and the Destroyer of Egos. I'm the man that's far surpassed you in every way imaginable, and I didn't have to win 'Every Title' to do it...I just had to win one. This World Championship, man. I defended it, made it mine...and that's been something you've never been able to accomplish.
"Sure, you caught your lucky stroke one year at XIII, but anything can happen there. You thought you finally hit the big time, didn't you? You thought you were king shit, motherfucking World Champion. What you didn't realize is that as soon as you complete one puzzle, another comes in to take it's place. For somebody who calls himself 'The Future', you have no fucking foresight at all.
"Four thirteen to four twenty nine. A Fifteen day championship reign. Fitting, isn't it? I don't really care what you think, Price. I only care about what I know...and that is I'm going to fucking murder you come F15teen. Metaphorically, of course. There's more than one way to kill a man...and I know the key to your very soul.
"It's this gold, Jayson. I know how badly you want it, how it calls to you. I know because it does the same with me. Maybe we're alike in that way, you know? The difference, however, is I know how to hold on to it and make it mean something. Even if that something is making a fuccboi want to take from me...but they don't know the Price they end up paying along the way. They don't know how much flesh they sacrifice on their way to MY gold.
"But then when I'm standing over their beaten bodies and broken minds...that's when they realize that I wasn't the only one putting something on the line. No. They were putting so much more out there than I was. They bared their souls while I bared my teeth...and still, it wasn't enough for them to capture the most sought after prize in the WSeaF.
"And you think your little backhanded quips and dirty jokes are going to be enough to net you a victory over me? You better think again, Jayson...though I know thinking isn't your strong suit. I think the pressure behind this match might be enough to force that tiny nugget of a brain into a little overtime...but I've been wrong once or twice.
"By the time this match is over, you're going to be huddled in the corner splashing mac and cheese on your face, wondering just where the hell you went wrong. I'm going to show everyone why you're the Future in past tense. Everyone will look to me...and bow to their Godnilla."
*buzz static*
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
Part I: Rival
The fauna and flora of the lavishly decorated hotel room wasn't enough to distract Wade from the matters that plagued his mind. He had F15teen coming up, another World Championship match on his plate. He had every competitor of the Final Destination match to keep an eye on, including his own stablemate Johnny Rabid. He had Nikita to protect, and keep from the prying eye of his own kin in #BeachKrew...
And then there was him.
Scarecrow.
Had it really been him? Or just an impostor? It was likely somebody was just looking for a payday and wore a dead man's face out to the ring...
But the eyes.
The eyes were unmistakable. Wade would never forget, when he was staring down Scarecrow that fateful night at Revenge...those were the eyes staring back at him. Those dying eyes, an odd shade of blue. Reflecting back on to him like a mirror image of himself. Wade couldn't shake the feeling he had as he watched Scarecrow take his very last breath in the middle of the ring. It was a feeling that had haunted him since...
Resent.
Not for Crow, but resent for himself. Even after he watched him die, he still didn't feel at peace. The thought crippled and overran his mind with dark visions. It drove him back to his childhood home, that disgusting cabin in the middle of the swamp. It led him down into that basement and showed him what truly happened that musty night. He recounted killing his father, stabbing him to death with a dusty Bowie knife. He remembered dragging him out to a secluded spot and drowning his body in a muddy pit. He recalled those bright flashing lights...
Wade jerked his hand to his head as it burst open with pain. He winced against it, trying his best to fight it off. The pain finally receded, but the vision did not. Those bright lights. He remembered the words that let loose from his lips as they shone down on him.
“God?” he spoke aloud.
But nothing ever answered. He thought it was a king he never believed in coming down to pass judgment...and that night in the swamp, he felt he truly deserved whatever may have come. Somebody had another plan instead. There was more than one way to kill a man...
“Scarecrow...” Wade spoke out loud once more.
Someone – or something – had sent this specter back to haunt Wade.
“No...it's not”, Wade said, beginning to ramble, “...he's a fake...not real...”
Wade stood from the chair and shook his head back and forth, the ends of his hair slapping him in the face as he did. He pulled his hands up to his hair and covered his face. He groaned as his heart began to speed out of control. He paced the room, grabbing a chair as he did and threw it hard at the wall. The legs of the chair cracked off as the chair fell to the floor...and somewhere in the hotel room, the shower stopped.
He heard a door open down the hallway and the pitter patter of feet coming down it. He turned on the spot to see Nikita standing there, towel draped over his breasts, and a look of concern on her face. She approached Wade and attempted to comfort him.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
Wade slapped her hand away as she reached for him, but she pushed back, putting her hands up against Wade's face and thrust him into the wall. He stared into her glimmering eyes as she attempted to have a conversation with him through them. Wade felt his heart steady as she rubbed his cheek. She pulled him out of the swamp, to the scent of apple shampoo and lavender body wash. Wade turned and pushed his lips into Nikita's hand.
“What happened Wade?” she asked again.
Wade hesitated.
“You can tell me”, she assured.
“I can't get his face out of my head”, Wade replied.
“Who?” she asked, “Your brother?”
“No...”, Wade said, “Scarecrow.”
Nikita ran her fingers through Wade's hair.
“It's not your fault”, she said, “You didn't kill him. It was Bobby Cairo.”
“BUT I WAS GOING TO!” Wade shouted and pushed Nikita away, “Don't you understand? I was going to kill a man for something he didn't do. Scarecrow was an asshole, a fuccboi through and through, but he didn't deserve...that.”
“You don't even know if that was Scarecrow”, Nikita said, “Or just some fucking idiot playing dress up. Seth never ceases to amaze me with the lows he'll sink to. You know what he's capable of...”
“Seth isn't a problem”, Wade snapped, “And trust me...that was Scarecrow. I'll remember that face for the rest of my life. It's with me when I sleep. It's with me when I'm awake.”
She wrapped her arms around Wade's monolithic shoulders and pulled his head into her chest. Wade's breathing went stale and his eyes warped into that hubris shade of black. He pulled away from her and plopped down in a chair behind him.
“There's something else too”, Wade said.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A few weeks ago...” Wade started but stopped himself.
She sat down in his lap and wrapped her arm around his head.
“What?”
Wade took a deep breath and continued.
“A few weeks ago...there was this boy. He stopped me outside of the arena. Called to me from the shadows...I couldn't even see him. Just a harmless little fuck, you know. He approached me, couldn't even find his words. I was a dick to him, told him to spit it out already, I ain't got all night. He told me his name was Jeremy...and that I was his hero.”
Wade sighed, recalling the rest of the story.
“I told him that I'm nobodies hero, that nobody should want to be like me. He asked me why...and I told him. I told him about Leven and my father. Just a stupid little kid...but something about him reminded me of myself. I could see the look in his eyes, desperate for a father, desperate for a family. He wanted to know if it was ok to hurt people like that...and I told him yes. I can't stop thinking about it, Nikita.”
Nikita nuzzled her face into Wade's cheek and planted a kiss on it.
“You can't keep beating yourself up for shit like that, Wade”, she said, “You can't be responsible for everyone, you know that. You can only be responsible for what's yours. And besides...nothing will probably come of it anyways.”
Wade sighed again.
“I hope you're right”, Wade replied, “Truly, I do.”
But something told him that she was very wrong.
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
*buzz static*
“How do you really expect to beat me Price? I mean, really think about it man. How do you expect to get in that ring come Sunday Night and lay me down for the three count? Are you going to hit me with that Pricebuster? Maybe a little Downfall action? Me? I don't think you'll hit me with either one...and if you did? I would just laugh that shit off.
“You probably think you have the secret strategy to taking The Leviathan down, don't you? Maybe some fat jokes, right? Maybe you'll make a joke about my appearance, how I don't look like a World Champion? Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret Jayson...there is no strategy to taking me down. Just when you think you have that ace up your sleeve...I drop a whole deck of cards on you.
“I got depth like that. I can be funny. I can be menacing. I can...win World Championship matches. That probably stung, right? Not as much as this one will, because I've done something that you've never been able to do in your entire career...
“I beat Torture.
“I'm just going to let that shit sink in for a minute, Price. The deepest cuts bleed the most BOI...and that shit will cut pretty deep.
“Was that long enough? Should I continue? I don't give a fuck what you think, man.
“I beat the man you consider to be a 'glory hog'. The man you considered to be 'passed his prime'...I beat him, Jayson...and I did that shit with aplomb. He's twice the wrestler that you are. I kicked out of back to back Torture Devices, the Flatliner, and a god damn frog splash. These are moves the man hasn't done in damn near ten years, Price. He had to pull out all the stops to put my away for MY World Championship...and he couldn't get the job done.
“What makes you think you can again?
“Oh right...that Downfall. That devastating maneuver, right? Is that what you think is going to put me down, end my title reign soundly? I just...I just don't think it will, Price. You put a lot of stock in your moveset because it brought you to the game...but it's never helped you seal the deal. You just aren't capable of winning this World title. Chasing it is more your style...and Seth constantly 'screwing' you over is just a way to scrub your own ego.
“Your vulgarity masks your pain, Jayson. I can see through you...I can see through the mask. I can see the little shit head kid underneath, always crying over spilled milk and his bowl of mac and cheese, but in reality he's just incapable of doing anything for himself. That's how you've always been. How you'll always be. The Future? Sheesh, don't make me fucking die laughing. If you were truly the Future of this World? Then shit's looking bleak indeed.
“Me? I'm one of the forerunners of a Revolution – and no, I ain't talking about some babyface whiners club like that Grayson Pierce fuccboi. I'm talking about that #BeachKrew Revolution. People want to talk about how we're 'falling apart', how we're 'losing relevance' day by day...but that's just their minds tricking them. It's what they tell themselves to go to sleep at night, tucked into their warm beds with their fucking Power Rangers night light on full blast to keep those monsters away...
“But it's all a lie. Just like you telling yourself you have a chance in hell of walking out of Fifteen as the World Heavyweight Champion...and it wont be because you got screwed out of it. It's going to be because you stepped into the ring with Wade Moor, a man who is truly better than you in every conceivable way.
“You're probably telling yourself that Wade Moor's just playing. That he knows you're 'the greatest' to ever set foot in a WCF ring...but I ain't here to get your nut off, Price. I'm not here to scrub your ego. You're probably wondering when I'm going to try and build this match up to be the grand showdown that it's 'supposed' to be...but let's get one thing straight Jayson:
“I'm not stepping up to meet you. You're stepping up to meet me.
“My depths go high BOI. Higher than you've ever been in the WSeaF. Oh, but you're a 'veteran' right? You've been here for so long that I'm lucky to even be sharing this ring with you? Come on, hit me with something a little less predictable Price. Dig down deep...and actually try for once in your miserable career. I guess it rings true what they say? Ineptitude always gets reward.
“That's exactly what you are, Jayson. Inept. You haven't been able to pull off what I can, always scratching and clawing for your next opportunity to fail...or sometimes it just drops right in your lap. Seth handing you this World Championship match wasn't out of the kindness of his heart...that man has no kindness, and that's just how I like it. No, no. Seth giving you this match was a form of punishment, as always.
“Seth wants to watch you fail, so he can jack his dick from his skybox while Jayson Price shits the bed yet again. I realize that I'm just a pawn in his little game, watching your underachieving career unfold...but that doesn't mean that I can't have a little fun too. It's going to be fun dismantling you piece by piece in that ring. Watching you squirm at my feet when I drop you with a BROISEDON PUNCH. Trying your best to hold on to consciousness as I hook your leg for the three count. Watching you catch your breath so you can scream foul once more...
“It's easier to blame other people for your shortcomings, isn't it? Well, this time...you can blame me, and I won't even get mad. Point the finger at me, Jayson. Cry as I laugh in your face when I utterly destroy you just for the fucking fun of it. I'll take a bow with that World Championship, something you'll never be able to chase as long as you remain in the WCF.
“There's more than one way to kill a man, Jayson...and make no bones about it, I'm going to kill you at Fifteen.”
*buzz static*
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
Part II: Jeremy, An Owl, And The Leviathan
Jeremy sat alone in his room, nursing his injured ribs with a tube of ICYHOT. When he walked through his door, his parents didn't even flinch at the sight of their beaten son. His dad didn't even look up from the television he had been glued in front of all day, and his mom was too tired of life to even notice. Jeremy closed his door behind him and continued his miserable, solitary existence.
He lay quietly on his bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling. A collection of fading glow in the dark stars began to light up as the sun went down. He kept applying the ICYHOT - struggling to breath without a shooting pain through his ribs - as he recalled the scene that had transpired at the school. Martin and his fucking friends, beating Jeremy into unconsciousness just because they could. For some unknown transgression that Jeremy had committed.
He knew it was an excuse by Martin. He saw the look in his dead eyes as he planted his Nike into his ribs...Martin had no feeling, no hairs to split against Jeremy. He had just beaten on him because he could, because he wanted to...and his submissive friends were along for the ride. They didn't care as long as Martin thought they were 'cool', whatever the fuck that meant.
Jeremy sat up, his ribs screaming in pain as he did. He remembered throwing his hands around Martin's throat, choking the life out of the bastard, his eyes filling up red as he did. He remembered the other two throwing Jeremy off of their friend, barely able to act because Martin wasn't telling them what to do. He remembered looking down at Martin's face before he left, and seeing the fear that lay underneath the dead eyes.
A tingle went from Jeremy's head, all the way down his spine, as he relived the experience over and over. He would probably get in trouble at school on Monday when he went back...but Jeremy's only regret was that he wasn't able to finish the job. That Martin wasn't lying dead on that locker room floor right now, his friends weeping over his dead body. Two sheep bleating to their herdsmen, not knowing what to do with their own miserable lives.
An owl hooted from outside of Jeremy's window, staring through it directly into his eyes. The tingle came again, this time in greater force. Jeremy stood from his bed, his ribs no longer shouting at him to stay down, and turned his attention away from the owl. A poster was the first thing to catch his eye. It was a poster of Wade Moor, standing against a dark background with the World Championship perched on his shoulder.
Wade wouldn't have stopped, Jeremy thought to himself. He would have finished Martin on the spot and turned on his two friends for good measure.
“That's what you would have done”, Jeremy stated, “Isn't it?”
It became increasingly apparent to Jeremy that the poster was looking down on him, those black eyes staring right into his. Jeremy smiled. The thought comforted him.
“Would you have killed him, Wade?” Jeremy asked aloud.
yyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssss...
Jeremy put his hand to the poster...just as a hand touched his shoulder. Jeremy whipped around immediately, but nobody was there.
“Whose there?” Jeremy asked, no hint of concern in his voice.
Iiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttsssssssssssssss mmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Jeremy turned on his heels, back towards the poster. Of course it was Wade. Wade was with him wherever he went. He saw his face when he slept. He saw his face when he was awake. He was Jeremy's true father, the only person in this world who knew exactly what Jeremy was.
Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa yoooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
Jeremy smiled again, a tear strolling down his cheek. He put his hand on the poster again, wishing for his God to speak to him, to tell him what to do...and as if he read his mind, the voice came again.
Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll thhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
“I will”, Jeremy replied, “Your will be done, Godnilla.”
Outside, the owl hooted in pleasure.