Post by Corey Black on Jan 31, 2016 17:33:01 GMT -5
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Corey Black sits on his couch in his shitty little apartment, barely even a place he can call home anymore. One of three places he lays his head and calls home, but the one closest to actual home to him. Denmark, Japan, and Minnesota. It’s simple geography. Minnesota is closest to WCF HQ in Reading, Pennsylvania.
The peculiar thing about this setting is how there’s almost nothing in this apartment. Just a couch. No TV, no clothes, no bed – just a couch. Luggage sits on the couch next to Corey, but all the decoration is gone, left is baron gray walls that scream desolation. Corey grabs the bag, slings it over his shoulder and stands up off the couch, looking out a nearby window toward downtown Minneapolis. He breathes in and lets it all out with a sigh as he places a gold key on the arm of the couch. Corey heads out the door, locking it behind him.
Heading down the staircase leading to the front door of the apartment complex, Corey doesn’t waste time. As soon as he hits the front door, though, a familiar face meets him. It doesn’t startle Corey as much as it takes him off guard a little bit.
Corey takes a step back, looks Nikki up and down, then responds with the only way he knows how. Walking right by her. She reaches out and grabs his arm, though, and spins him to face her. Corey’s none too pleased, but he endures because of the history.
I know you’re focused. Hear me out. Jeff and Kid P were right. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You’re going to lose everything All you have built and bled for. All the fans, all the friends, hell all the enemies, they all go out the window if you lose this match. You can’t do it to us.
Black doesn’t respond. Instead he looks Nikki dead in the eye and shrugs.
That’s it? A fucking shrug? I devoted my life to being your manager and all you can do is shrug it off?
Those words sting. Visibly sting. But again, CD looks Nikki right in her eye and shrugs. She’s getting so pissed off.
Maybe I should fight for myself for once, instead of fighting for everyone else.
Maybe you should stop hanging out with pop stars and get your head back in the game.
Oh because I was so much more in the game when you were around screwing my students? Get out of here, Nikki. I have a flight to catch soon.
I didn’t show up at your door to get pushed aside, Corey. You need me to beat Jonny. I can help you and you know it.
You can help me beat Jonny fucking Fly? Get your bitch ass out of here. You’re all butthurt because you were replaced with a more successful, more talented, better looking woman and now you’re here to tell me YOU can help me? I need ME to beat Jonny. That’s it. I don’t need anybody else. So fuck Jonny, fuck you, and especially … ESPECIALLY … fuck our history.
Corey stands right up to Nikki, looks down into her eyes and shrugs with extra exaggeration. She scowls and stomps back to her car, which happens to be parked behind Corey’s taxi on the street. She slams her door as she starts her engine and flies off down the street, out of sight. Corey is calm, cool, collected. He’s ready for the impending battle. Nobody will get in his way.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Fans waiting outside the Wells Fargo Arena in Philly are rabid. The best wrestling fans on Earth. Tonight, WCF comes as close to home as you can get for the 15th Anniversary Show. Corey’s black rental car pulls up to the arena and the fans look inside, going wild seeing who is driving. Corey waves as he drives by to the loading bay, the back entrance to the arena with heavy security. Corey parks the car and steps out, having flown to Philly and stayed at a hotel most of the way, dressed in a black suit with black tie. He grabs his bag from the back seat and heads into the arena. Just like any fine production, there’s men and women frantically running around carrying wires or cameras, attempting to get the arena set up for the evening’s matches.
Arriving at the locker room, Corey peeks his head in to say hello to everyone in there. Handshakes, good lucks, general pleasantries. Finished, Corey heads back out the door and walks down the hall to his locker room, secluded from everyone else. But the door is locked. Corey annoyingly knocks twice and the door slowly opens to a pitch black room. Corey flips the lights on and the sight shocks him.
Inside the room, there’s streamers, a banner that says “Thanks for Your Service!” which was probably meant for an army vet coming home, there’s nachos and Diet Coke on a table, balloons and a lone wrestler sitting in a steel chair slowly clapping.
Congrats on your storied career, Corey. Shame you’re leaving the night I win the World Title on a WCF show.
You’re a true to life motherfucker, Price.
What, you’re not excited about your going away party? I invited guests.
The door opens up and in walks a couple wrestlers from the locker room. They all pat Corey on the back, give their condolences, and walk back to their gear. Jayson is laughing this entire time. As the last wrestler finishes, Corey turns to Jayson.
Only when I see you in the unemployment line. I’ll come say hi, you can hold my belt for a minute.
You need to remember one thing boy, you still can’t beat me. Even if I lose tonight, and you win, know in the back of your mind that I’m two and one against you. You got lucky the first time, but clearly, I learned from that mistake.
Yeah, Tweet that to me when you’re fired and I’m champion, Maybe I’ll care. Probably not though.
So you went through all this trouble just to piss me off? You achieved your mission. Hit the bricks before I make sure you don’t even make it to Wade Moor.
So hostile for a guy going into early retirement. You should be happy that you don’t have to deal with shit like this anymore.
Happy? Fuck. You’re dumber than you look.
No need to get bitter because I threw you a party. This is fun, I’m having a blast! Watch this, weeeee!
Jayson spins around in the chair he’s sitting in like a five year old child. Then he abruptly puts his feet down to stop the spinning.
It’s fine, I have to bounce anyway. Throwing Fly a “Killed the Dinosaur” party. Kate Winslet will show up to that one.
Price stands up and pats Corey on the back on his way out the door.
I never did like you.
The door slams shut, leaving Corey alone in this wildly decorated room celebrating his demise as a pro wrestler for WCF. He beings tearing streamers down calmly, before getting more and more agitated and full blown upset as he knocks the balloon holders to the floor, the plate of nachos goes onto the wall and the Diet Coke is slammed to the floor. Soon the room looks a lot like Jayson Price’s puke after a night in Palm Beach. Hank Brown walks into the room and is confused.
Good lord man, what happened in here?
I sacrificed a unicorn to Odin. Not Balfore. The one in Asgard. None of this is helping.
Hank isn’t impressed. He just stares at Corey, waiting for the real response.
Jayson decorated my room celebrating my loss tonight. He’s a real douchebag.
Typical Price. Come find me when you get a minute, Seth wants you to do an interview for WCF.com.
Corey nods and Hank leaves, stepping over the mess on his way out the door. Corey shakes his head and plunks his bag down on the table. He pulls out his gear, all black, no purple at all. No logos, no fuss, pure black trunks, boots, pads and tape. In walks the apple of Corey Black’s eye, and the woman totally not dating anybody at the moment in this universe, Taylor Swift. Who, may I add, is wearing a Corey Black t-shirt.
Oh gosh you’re actually doing this, and you’re going to dress like you’re going to a funeral?
Taylor obviously noticed the all black gear – or maybe the all black suit. Either way, apt assessment.
I don’t have a choice. Jonny has said a bunch of times, he doesn’t fight for nothing. I’m the same way, I’m to the point where if the prize isn’t rich enough, I have no reason to battle. But my career – his career? That’s a big enough prize.
Hasn’t every single person you talked to try to talk you out of this? Ever since I met you, you’ve been working as hard as anyone I’ve come across to stay in shape so you can pick this back up full time.
One guy told me he was happy it was happening, but he’s a dick. Full time wrestling in WCF is a pipe dream. With management the way it is now, Katherine Phoenix, KL Henson, whomever else is apparently working head office, it’ll be too much of a nightmare to even try. So why not drop in, beat the hell out of my former friend, and do the place a favor by taking him out?
Because you don’t want to do that. It’s lose-lose for you.
Corey cocks his head to the side, looking at Taylor like she just spewed mustard out her nose.
You lose, you’re done. You win, your greatest ally and opponent is done. Where do you go from here if you win? …where do you go if you lose?
Well if I lose, I go to my castle and live the rest of my days hating everyone from afar. If I win, I continue to show up here once a month and make sure everyone hates me to their faces.
You know what I mean..
No, I do, and this is what will happen. I’m not going to start over from the bottom in some other company. I’m too old and don’t care enough. Would I shoot up the card in no time flat? Of course. But someone will find out about my past, that whole shit will come up, I’ll have to explain why Corey Black is better than Creeping Death, put a hole in a few skulls, and probably get fired once I mouth off to the wrong person.
I’m not saying that has happened before, but it is on Youtube.
Seriously Corey. You’re going to have to trust me. Don’t do this.
Or what? This isn’t your music career. You’re not going to say you’ll quit if Adele gets a Grammy and you don’t. This is combat sports. Think of it like gladiators. You lose, you’re done.
You’re not a gladiator.
You’re right, I’m The Avenger. The King of All Wrestlers. The Pantheon. I’m better than a gladiator. I’d go into battle with a gladiator and choose my elbow as the weapon. I’d be unstoppable.
Whatever makes you happy, I’ll be waiting for you either way.
Corey nudges T-Swift on the shoulder.
Well then I can’t lose, can I?
The pair exchange smiles as Taylor leaves the room, Corey has successfully vanquished everyone that may oppose the match. He sighs, before heading out the locker room himself, looking to find Hank Brown. Hank is standing in front of a WCF banner, mic in hand, waving Corey over.
Corey Black! Corey! Biggest match of your life out there tonight, do you have anything to say to whomever is watching this live stream – maybe even Jonny Fly himself?
This isn’t some bullshit game, Hank. I’ve heard some rumblings that it’s all a joke, Jonny and I are pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. Well, no. We’re not going to go into this match, high five, reform Pantheon and double count out. Straight up, one hundred percent, winner of this match sticks around and the loser leaves Wrestling Championship Federation. I’m ready to get this monkey off my back for good or die trying. Beat Jonny Fly, end the Jonny Fly Era - which I started, and never have to deal with this egomaniac again. WCF isn’t big enough for both of us, and that is why I’m going to send him back to the shithole he came from.
I didn’t come from a shithole. I’ve got nowhere else to go. It’s WCF or nothing for me. So it’ll be WCF. I’ve never put my career on the line in a match where I didn’t have a back-up plan. Last time I did this – the only time I have done this – it was to put Torture down for good. What amazing parallels. Torture and Jonny Fly, two guys that claim they let me live in their shadow just as long as they needed me, and then shoved the knife in my back. I beat Torture on that day, but I couldn’t live with the way it was all going down. I knew that I’d still be allowed in the building, so after I made my statement, I left. I purposely lost that match because I knew taking Torture away from WCF was worse than Corey Black leaving WCF. But he had a family. He had people that depended on him and I still felt a responsibility as an honorable wrestler to not take that away from another competitor.
You two really were a match made in heaven. It was nice being able to beat both your asses at One, and even though it wasn’t a win, you still couldn’t get it done against me, Fly. Are you forgetting that? I don’t just beat on Adam Young for fun, I beat on whomever deserves it the most at that time. Adam Young, Jayson Price, DRG, Doc Henry, Torture, you, Steve Orbit, it doesn’t fucking matter. You piss me off? I’m going to destroy you. Fucking Jonny Fly and Torture, teaming up and doing exactly nothing.
Jonny Fly isn’t Torture, though. Jonny walks in whenever he wants, gets his dick sucked, and leaves as it suits him. Oh, wait, that IS Torture. And that’s why he’s pissing me off so much. I’m busting my ass week in and week out to stay at the top of my game because WCF is my home. Any time I’m called upon, I show up wearing bells, ready to fuck up someone’s day. It’s going to take a whole lot more than Jonny fucking Fly to get me out of here, I can tell you that for sure. He’s not beating me at Fifteen. I’ll be damned if that man ever beats me again, it’s going to be hard for him when I’m still wrestling here and he’s back to the EWFs of the world. Have fun trying to build a legacy in a company that barely sells a dozen tickets to a show in a car dealership. Don’t come crawling back to me in May asking for a match at XIII. You know damn well I’m not giving you that. Unless you want a match against Doc Henry or some shit, who is ALSO going to get retired tonight. You guys could have a walker on a pole match. Throw some mashed potatoes in there. Fuck you both. Two birds, one PPV. I should be out pre-celebrating Doc fucking Henry’s going away party. Which will just be me and a can of Diet Coke. I’ll even pour one out for Jonny, too, why not?
This all could have been avoided, though. If Jonny Fly wasn’t such a prick, he’d come to terms with a TEAM losing Trios. Look what happened to DRG. Even the DRG guys are like ‘no I don’t know what DRG was.. that didn’t happen..’ yet myself, Jonny, Jayson and Steve Orbit are still running the show as we please. Three out of the four are complete assholes, but we still reign supreme. It’s why I am “The Pantheon” – my army left, so it’s up to me to uphold the tradition and value. Something Jonny Fly couldn’t do in 2016 if he got another mansion for it. That’s something Jonny doesn’t understand, tradition and value. The people I surround myself with get it.
That’s the true kicker in this whole mess. All these guys have been telling me my time is up, it’s been at least ten years now. And when I try to step aside, help the new crop of talent, they end up dead. Or missing. Or Jayson Price. Even worse, they end up Jonny Fly and the absolute bane of my existence.
Yes, I have been here nearly the entire Fifteen year run of WCF. No, my time isn’t up yet. I don’t give a fuck if you’ve beat me every time we have stepped into the ring, I’ve gone through this exact scenario with Logan. He would take me to the woodshed every match we had. But then one day it all turned around, it clicked, and now he’s my bitch. Jonny Fly will be my bitch. My greatest accomplishment. When I die and have to leave WCF because of it, people won’t look back on how many World Titles I won, who I beat at One, XIII or anything close. They’ll look back at Fifteen and say “goddamn that Corey Black dude beat Jonny Fly and ridded everyone’s life of Jonny Fly, what a saint.” Then from that time on the day I pass will be known as Corey Black Day where the world will celebrate my victory over Fly. Diet Coke will flood the streets as the celebration rages on.
This is a man that beat his own mother up on live TV. A guy that has done dozens upon dozens of nefarious things in his whole life but he gets a pass because he’s a good wrestler. Until now. I’d have lived with the whole Trios thing if it was anybody else. If I had teamed with Alex Richards and Jay Omega, I could tell them to their face that it was my bad and I was sorry. But it wasn’t my bad, and I’m not sorry, Jonny. You know me better than that. You know damn well you needed to keep up the game, keep being hip and cool by hating who built the company you fucking work for. How cool is it to have me now, Jonny? Seeing what I did to your brother at XIII. That was just the start. My path through beating every mother fucker that thinks he is better than me just because I haven’t put a W in the win column against them. Orbit, Fly, Gravedigger – I’m running through all of you before the end of my career.
Even Jeff Purse and Polar Phantasm think this is a bad idea. They don’t want to see either one of us go, but that’s just how it has to be. We’re both too stubborn to leave on our own accord so we’ll go out guns blazing. Fight fire with fire, as they say. It was a commendable thing those two did. They know what we’ve done for WCF. I’ve given nearly half my life to this place. Put that into perspective, Jonny. I was eighteen years old when I signed my contract. Now I’m almost thirty three. Older, wiser, better, but just as pissed off at the world as I was in 2002. I went on to become the most decorated, most winning, best, and greatest WCF wrestler this place will probably ever see. That legacy will not be taken away from me, Jonny. You can try your hardest, you can get your brother to help, bring down people from my past like Hellz Angel, Steve Carr, Wyld Card, Davey Boone, Ellis, Jo-Jo, fuck bring the entire Adam Young Jobber Factory for all I care.
You’ve been a poison to WCF since you walked in the door. There was a chip on your shoulder unlike any I had seen before or seen since. The only difference is that you can back it up. It shouldn’t have to end like this, but that’s how the dice rolled. We should be side by side at the top of this mountain, not Jayson Price. Think about THAT one. The guy we dragged along in Trios, the guy that could barely get shit done, is headlining a card where one of our careers is ending. And it’s because you’re just not a draw, Jonny. Your time is up, champ. All this time you’ve been telling me it’s me, I’m the one that has the falling star, when really it is you. You’re the less-than-part-time wrestler here. You’re the guy that people don’t want to see anymore. Do you see any Jonny Fly signs in the crowd? I see CD signs. Are they chanting Jonny Fly at a match with Doc Henry and Adam Young or do they chant my name? It’s always Corey Black, Fly, and you can’t fucking stand it. You thought you’d be able to use my shadow as a springboard and then turn it around on me, making it seem like I used Pantheon to stay in the spotlight. No, fuck that, Pantheon wouldn’t even be Pantheon if it wasn’t for me. If I wasn’t around to give that name value, that direction, you’d have crashed and burned harder than S-PAC. Jonny, you just can’t take being second best so you have to try to get first place out the door. Ain’t going to happen, chief.
Isn’t it strange how well I have handled my own stable crumbling around me? I’ve lost friends at an alarming rate and here I stand, chin up and ready to go. It’s because I am the one guy that can stick with stuff. I don’t need to change things to stay fresh. I don’t need to turn my back on my friends because I can get it done either way. Jonny Fly has conditioned me to be ruthless and not give a fuck when five members of my stable leave. All along I should have known that I was The Pantheon, the only fucking member worth the prestige. Go down the list. Former champions, future champions, they all took it for granted because they had that fucking chip on their shoulder like they deserved to rub shoulders with the King of All Wrestlers. The Chelsea Armstrongs and Jeff Purses of the world were lucky to even be in the same locker room as me, let alone be called Pantheon. Jonny Fly was never Pantheon, Pantheon was always Jonny Fly’s contingency plan. A fall-back in case the spotlight ever moved on to the fresher and newer guy. Fly doesn’t have the longevity it takes to keep that spotlight on him, so he needed a guy that has a proven track record with WCF to keep Pantheon at the top, and thus keep Jonny Fly at the top. I didn’t use Pantheon. Jonny used Pantheon, and Pantheon used me.
Jonny uses everyone on his way to the top. Pantheon, Steve Orbit, Seth Lerch, Torture, the list goes on and on and on. He thinks I have a problem getting shit done on my own? Fucking please. I did everything on my own. I won the World Title myself, I built a Hall of Fame career with my own two hands, and I built this entire company around my vision. Without my shoulders carrying the weight, we may as well be wrestling in your mansion’s basement for peanuts. This whole thing is because of me, and I’m sure you’ll take great pleasure in tearing down the one pillar of the company. Jonny Fly is nothing but the screen door on the foundation that is WCF. Easily replicated, available at every hardware store around the nation. I wanted to mold him into the next legend, but all he did was become the next Waylon Cash. Big splash, but mouth, couldn’t handle the heat so he retreated to ‘greener’ pastures. You could have been even greater than you are now, Jonny, if you’d have just kept your head on straight. That’s why I joined Pantheon. I wanted you to be the next Corey Black. The next in line to put this place on your back and carry it for ten more years to come. You spat in my face, you spat in everyone’s face, and now I have to put you away for good. It’s the rule of honor.
I’m not going to come out and say I’ll slaughter Fly, because I won’t. I said it before, he’s stubborn as shit and he won’t go down easily. When you compare what he’s fighting for to what I am fighting for, it becomes obvious who the more desperate man is. I simply cannot lose this. There’s no turning back once I step through those ropes. It’s either kill or be killed, for real this time, and I’m not ready to die nor hang up the elbow pad. I’m going this because I have to do it. I’m calling my shot, Fly. You’re getting more Corey Black tonight than you ever thought possible. I’m leaving Creeping Death locked up, I don’t need that to beat you. I don’t WANT that to beat you. When I am standing over your lifeless body, career over, I want you to look up at me, look into my eyes and know forever that Corey Black, the ONE GUY you didn’t ever think would be able to do it, did this to you.
I’m not Terry Roberts, you’re not going to get under my skin if you do a Taylor Swift parody song. I’m unlike anyone you’ve ever been in the ring with, Jonny, if there’s anything to take from Purse and Phantasm coming to try to save your career, it’s that. I’m Corey fucking Black. The last remaining member of Pantheon. The King of All Wrestlers.
Fifteen is a mere few hours away. Savor your career as long as you can, Jonny. Enjoy these last few fleeting moments. I hope you have some investments in the Hot Fries market.
As soon as that bell rings, you’re in for the fight of your life.
And as soon as that bell rings the second time.
This life of yours.
Corey nods to Hank Brown before walking off set. Hank stands there stunned, mic still in the air, mouth wide open. Corey heads back to his locker room, but before opening the door, he stops. His name is plastered on the door like a goddamn movie star. This is his locker room. He earned this space to change away from the rest of the roster. He built that locker room basically from the ground up. This may be the last time he sees this door. Or this arena. Or all these fine people. It’s finally hitting Corey like a ton of bricks, his face changes, eyes wander. He looks away from the door and heads down the hallway to the mouth of the arena, where the backstage and arena itself merge. Some call this the ‘Gorilla Position’ but in WCFland it’s called the “Gravedigger Position.’ Corey opens the curtain and walks through, ignoring anybody in his path. He walks straight out into an empty but fully built WCF arena. The ring shines brightly, reflecting the bright lights like a wedding band. He walks down the ramp, looking out into the empty seats, imagining what the reaction will be come win or lose. Corey reaches the ringside area, puts two hands up and is about to touch the apron but stops.
The time will come later tonight.
For now, Corey smiles and walks back to the backstage area. He’s in for the fight of his life.
“There can be no wedding while this horrible creation of mine is still alive. I made him with these hands, and with these hands I will destroy him.”
– Dr. Henry Frankenstein
– Dr. Henry Frankenstein