Post by Corey Black on Aug 14, 2016 16:46:19 GMT -5
The Seven Deadly Sins
Chapter 6: Mikey eXtreme Part II
Friday, August 12th, 2016
Backstage at the 2300, medics are assisting Corey Black through the curtain. His entire body is stained red from the blood he shed not only that night, but every night the last week. A particular medic is brushing fire ants off his arms and stomping on them as they hit the floor. Corey Black is stumbling at best, being held up by two men, one under each arm. They usher him back through the crowd of wrestlers, managers, stagehands, and a host of others to a room where they can begin to clean Corey up. Three medics come in with him, and Nikki Venus slides in as well. Alcohol is sprayed from bottles with nozzles on the end of them to clear the blood and potential infection from Corey's multiple wounds, each spray he winces in agony as the alcohol burns his body. The door is left open, and Corey catches a glimpse of Adam Young being wheeled by on a stretcher. He smiles. He did exactly what he said he'd do. As medics tend to a body that by all accounts shouldn't even be working, the man's face glows through the crimson mask as his foe is wheeled by unconscious. The medics ask Corey to lay back so they can work on sewing up his cuts, and as he does, he himself goes to sleep. Either from blood loss or pure exhaustion.
Corey wakes up some time later, his wounds all closed and bandaged, all the blood cleaned from his skin. He sits up groggy, eyes barely adjusting to the light in the room. Nikki Venus is at his side, she stands up.
Ten points. You went five for five this week and destroyed the competition. You ARE the King of All Wrestlers!
I feel like the king of dying right now, fuck.
Just one more match and the trophy is yours. King of All Wrestlers, toppler of the King of eXtreme, and soon to be King of the Deathmatch!
You got that right. Let's get out of here. I've seen too much of this arena already, my mark has been left.
Corey drops off the table and doubles over in pain. Nikki catches his shoulder as he bends, she helps him straighten back up and walk out of the medics room. They walk by the locker room, where Nikki runs in to grab the bags and out the door they go. Right before leaving, before stepping over the threshold out of the arena, Corey pauses. The 2300 was his home for an entire week, but Philadelphia is the last place he wants to be. Corey closes his eyes and steps out of the legendary arena where he went five and zero in a deathmatch tournament.
How does it feel?
Feels like we need to get out of here before Price Tower is in view again. I've seen enough of that eyesore this week.
I'm glad you saw it, though. You were able to handle the anger nicely. It sure helped fuel the fire it took to win all those matches.
I suppose you're right. When the trophy is in my hands, I can dedicate the victory to the best friend I never needed. He sure did have a hand in this. Piece of shit.
Nikki opens the driver's side door of Corey's car, a black 300C with Lambo doors, and sits down. Corey does the same, just more ginger and calculated as to not hurt himself. The pair pull out of the parking lot of the 2300 Arena on their way to Slam and the finals of the King of the Deathmatch Tournament.
Saturday, August 13th, 2016
It's mid to late afternoon in glorious Oley, PA, home of WCF HQ. It is here where the WCF Performance Center is located, and Corey Black happens to be the head trainer. Corey and Nikki walk into the WCF PC to greet the new crop of talent being trained. They all run over and shake Corey's hand, congratulating him on his victories. Some small talk takes place before the person filling in for Corey walks over and places a hand on his shoulder.
I don't even know what to say. If you pull this off, it'll be one of the greatest things anyone has done in the company. There's nobody that can match it.
I know, and that's what makes it beautiful. It's another feather in my cap, something else to use against the naysayers.
You got that right. What are you even doing here? You should be on a bed somewhere.
It's Saturday. There's a class to be taught. That, and I can't take a day off when Mikey eXtreme is in my path again. I've got this.
Corey smiles as he walks over to a ring, rolling in and slowly starting to hit the ropes. He gets faster and faster as the adrenaline starts flowing thanks to the pain. Nikki Venus looks over to Steve Orbit, and he looks back.
You know, I don't see eye to eye with him, but he put the company first when he asked me to fill in for him. That's alright of him.
He's happy you accepted the offer to take over the class while he was busy. He just won't say it to you.
Well, don't tell him I'm glad he did ask. Don't tell him I ran it better than he did, either.
Across the way in the ring, the students have all congregated over there and Corey is giving a lesson. The content? Continuing on while injured.
Now, do as I say, not as I do. I am beat the hell up. I just had five deathmatches in as many nights, and I have one more to do. It should have stopped at one, and then I should have taken a break again. You, though, you're all young. If you suffer an injury, do not continue. I'm a dumb, dumb person. You should be smart with your body, it's your best weapon.
Steve Orbit walks over to the crowd of students and asks a nice looking young female to step aside for some ... guidance?
You know, you're a decent wrestler but here's my personal cell number, call me if you want to make some real money.
Nikki Venus rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Corey in the ring, trying to teach a class while covered in a mass of bandages.
Sunday, August 14th, 2016
Verizon Wireless Arena
Manchester, New Hampshire
Backstage at Slam in his personal locker room, Corey Black is still covered in bandages. He's removing them one by one, slowly but surely, and exposing his cuts to the air once again. They're tightly sewn up, but tonight, they're likely to be blown open by C4. Nikki Venus paces nervously back and forth in front of him. She's biting her nails, her lips, even the insides of her cheeks. All ticks of a very anxious person.
C4 is such a dangerous thing, god.
Even more so than an electrified cage? Or juiced up barbed wire? Even fire?
Those things are at least a little bit predictable. C4 is used by the military to break into compounds, or deconstruction of buildings. It has no place in a wrestling ring.
I can agree with that, but that's how it works out. Nobody knew what they were getting into until the bracket was released. And everyone still fought their way to try to get here. Now it's down to two. The trophy will have an owner after tonight, the problem will be if that owner can even walk - or is even in one piece - by the end.
See, that's what scares me. You don't have control over that at all. As unpredictable as the element in the match is, you don't know what'll happen to you while it's going on!
I always have a plan. I'll be fine. I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow morning and smile as I see the trophy sitting next to whatever hospital bed I am in.
I don't know how you can be happy about a sure-fire trip to a hospital.
It's what I live for. No grab the phone, it's show time.
Nikki sighs deeply before grabbing her cell phone and switching it to record mode. As she brings the phone up to face Corey, her arms shake nervously. Corey makes eye contact with her and nods, assuring her all will be alright.
The Finals are upon us, and it'll be a show - for sure. I showed the world that Corey Black is still the best wrestler in this company. Be it high flying, technical, striking, or deathmatch, there's nobody better than me. Five lined up this last week, Monday through Friday. Five hungry, pissed off dudes that thought for sure I am a washed up, broken down nobody clinging to glory of years passed. Each time a man stood before me, I knocked them down and pinned their shoulders to the mat. I am the only man in this tournament to get two points every match. Not a single blemish on my record. A statement that will last the test of time as this company moves forward. Next year, if another tournament is held, there will be nothing for the winner to achieve beyond a trophy. War has the eliminations record, the time in the match record, all that. But this tournament, in its first year, has become the Corey Black Show. Where does it go from here? Next tournament there will not be a better performance, whomever is in it can only hope to be as good as I was. They can only hope to tie my record and get handed a trophy. Not only have I shown the WCF roster exactly what I am made of this week, my performance will forever be talked about through the hallways and meet-ups, this week will become stuff of legend, as the Hall of Fame wrestler Corey Black swept the tournament. The trophy will reside in Denmark on his mantle in Dethfort.
All that stands in the way is a demoralized shell of a former confident man. That's all you are now, you know that, right Mikey? I'm beat down too, but I'm also the one guy that defeated you in this thing. You can't walk around boasting about all you've done here, because I did it all too - and I did it better. I did more of it. I beat you, and I beat Adam Young. You didn't BEAT me and you didn't BEAT Adam Young. You don't have a dog in this fight at all. You can only hope I show mercy on you as I break you down, limb by limb, and take that trophy back to my castle. The world knows the kind of man you are. You'll do anything and everything you can to win this thing and justify that blasphemous title you've surely given yourself. You, Mikey, are not the King of eXtreme. To be called king, you have got to prove yourself worthy of the throne. A throne I toppled on Thursday. When I beat you, I punched my ticket into this tournament final. It took everything I had, every trick I've learned throughout the years from tag partners and trainers, but goddamnit Mikey, I put you down. Nobody thought it could be done. Defeating Odin Balfore and Mikey eXtreme in back to back matches. Back to back NIGHTS even. It would be a major accomplishment to beat you two in consecutive matches, but on consecutive nights is just unheard of. A feat that will likely be mentioned in tandem along with winning five matches in as many nights. Something that has never been done, and will likely never be done again.
I understand this is your thing and all, since you don't even bother to get actual wrestling gear, instead opting to fight your battle in blue jeans. It really does say a lot about you. You're a brawler, a street fighter at heart who will do anything and everything to collect that paycheck. You're going to have to push yourself to limits that even you've never reached, Mikey. It's going to take a lot more than a superkick or spear to get the job done. You know first hand now what you have to look forward to in the finals of this tournament. Before this, you were brash and almost aloof. Sort of like you didn't take me seriously. Is it because I'm smaller than you? Maybe because you buy into what everyone says about the old guard not being able to keep pace with the new crop of talent? No, the reason came straight from the horse's mouth. You doubted my in-ring ability. Not the fact that I had beat three men up until that point, not that I may have been a big broken and bruised, but you doubted my wrestling skill. ME. You doubted COREY BLACK'S WRESTLING SKILL. Bitch, look. I am the best wrestler this company has ever seen.You put me in there with any style, and I adapt - I win. Your no-nonsense punch until they can't stand style? I can take every single shot you have and give you one three times more devastating. Come at me with that X Marks the Spot Superkick? I've got an elbow waiting to cave in your dome. Doubting my skill, give me a fuckin' break. I have fourteen and a half years worth of tapes in WCF you can go over, are you really that thick-skulled to actually believe the word vomit you spew constantly? The guy in mom jeans doubts the best wrestler in the company. Alright chief, take that one to the mini-van and have a blast at pottery class after you get decimated for the second time in a week.
Why did you sign up for this tournament, Mikey? It wasn't to prove yourself. It wasn't because big names signed up and you thought this was your only chance at them. Hell, you've said it yourself, it went Odin, me, then nobody in particular. Discounting Triple A, Oblivion, The Baron and Psychopomp entirely. I do know why you wanted to take a place in this battle. You're greedy, Mikey eXtreme, but not in the literal sense. When someone thinks of a greedy person, it is usually money related. That person won't buy drinks because his money is his and that is that. Your greed stems from not wanting to be left in the cold when the King of the Deathmatch was crowned, because if it wasn't you, you'd never be called the King of eXtreme again. You can't stand the thought of someone like Psychopomp potentially moving his way up the ladder, using this as a springboard up the card and overtaking your spot. You had to be here, whether you wanted to or not, because your greed clouded your judgement. So you sign up simply to stop everyone else from winning. You are in this because you are greedy, and that, that is it. You're nothing more than a thug that prefers to gain his fame through violence rather than artistry. This is the best place for you to be, you can display all the murderous rage you wish, and it's not only allowed, it is encouraged. So your greed takes over, your mind is clouded by that trophy that signifies what you think of yourself as, and if anyone else had it, you'd slowly go mad. The thought of another man holding the King of the Deathmatch trophy would drive you so crazy for so long and it's just because it represents you to a tee. An inordinate desire to prove to yourself that you are, in fact, feared in this company.
I am here to tell you, first hand, that there is nothing to fear when it comes to Mikey eXtreme. He is but a man, one that thinks far too highly of himself and insists to anyone that will listen that everyone around him isn't as good. Even when he suffers loss, he blames it on a fluke. Yes, it is a fluke that Henry Spearman superkicked your head off. I accidentally threw you off the post, spun you around and dropped you on your face, pinning you. You're the kind of guy that has to win or it didn't happen. You can't learn from a loss, you have to blame it on an outside factor that will never be you. Sometimes you're just not good enough. Sometimes someone will be across the ring from you, and they're just better. That's what you have to look forward to in the King of the Deathmatch Finals. A being that is just better. You can deny it all you want, you can blame the loss on a fluke, some dirt in your eye, or a stomach ache. It doesn't matter what you say or do once the bell rings, because that is it. The match ends and it's done. Especially this one, when it is over, the whole thing is over. We will have gone through the hardest week any man has ever gone through. One of us will have their hand raised, Deathmatch trophy in the other. The other will be met with high praise, no doubt. There is no denying the performance. Only one of us can win though. This is the ultimate test for anyone. Myself especially. I didn't do this for greed, I did this because it was the best way to prove to everyone that Corey Black can still go with the likes of Triple A, Psychopomp, Odin Balfore, Adam Young, and even Mikey eXtreme.
I look forward to ignoring your excuses.
All this talk about us, I nearly forgot.. I'm done with you, Mikey. I beat you once and for all. As far as I am concerned, I won this whole thing. There shouldn't even be a final. The final was me getting ten points and beating everyone in contention. So, I decided to let you fight a real nightmare. A living, breathing bad dream that used to run this company. Every once in a while, things get out of hand, even more so than I can handle. The Finals here aren't out of hand, clearly I am superior in every way, but you just don't get it. The greed in your heart made you look beyond what has been inside you since the beginning, Mikey. You're so greedy and hell bent on keeping your place.. you haven't even realized your actual place. It's not in a deathmatch tournament, or a biker gang, no Mikey. My greatest battle wasn't anyone in the ring. My greatest fight this tournament was keeping what lurks inside me away. Every light tube, every shock, all the barbed wire cutting me deep, it pushed me back. Further and further until finally, after I gave everything I had to eliminate Adam Young, I broke. I gave in to the darkness that has consumed me for most of my life.. and now, if you want to even survive, you're going to have to as well..
The lights in the locker room flicker and go out. Nikki Venus gasps and nearly drops the phone. Strange scratching noises are heard, and a guttural scream comes from in front of the camera. The room is pitch black, but the camera itself emits a slight glow. Corey Black is quickly moving his hands up and down, left and right, all over his face and head. Then he stops suddenly. You can barely make out what is happening but two clinks are heard, as if something was dropped on the ground. Corey's face is no longer the fleshy skin color it was, not it is white and gray and black.. face paint. Still in the darkened room, the deeper voice comes from Corey Black's mouth.
But it sure isn't Corey Black anymore.
Lust, greed, gluttony, sloth, pride and envy. The six cardinal sins the rest of this tournament is guilty of. The reasons why their blood was spilled all over the canvas.
Psychopomp, the sloth.
Triple A, the prideful.
Odin Balfore, the gluttonous.
Mikey eXtreme, the lustful and greedy.
Adam Young, the envious.
And I, Creeping Death, the wrathful.
It is fitting how this whole thing came to pass. The sins all collected in six men who all happened to sign up to nearly kill each other night after night. I've watched from the shadows, keeping tabs on what this mortal body has been through. It all comes down to Mikey eXtreme. A similar story, he saw his parents murdered at a young age, while my host saw his siblings taken. That's when I was born, though. Mikey just lives with it. While I am pure wrath, he suppresses the anger and it barely fuels him anymore. Mikey, you need your own me. When I come out to play, people run in fear. You'll finally be able to meet the entity that put Corey Black on the map, hahahahaaaa... shit, I'm going to have fun probing your brain, looking for what you can conjure after blowing your skull apart with C4. Hell, maybe I'll make a new friend in there. Your body can be his husk and together we'll rule this company. There's some of me in you, Mikey, I just have to find it!
Wrath is what created me. When young Corey took that baseball bat and slammed it into his father's head, it wasn't because he was afraid of what might happen, he was hiding. It was because I told him he had to do it. I whispered in his ear, I said "young one, this man doesn't deserve to breathe. You saw what he did to your brother and sister. Go on." And then I handed him the weapon. I guided his aim. I was the one that latched onto Corey in his time of need, he owes his entire life to me. Don't you think it's a bit suspicious that a child was able to swing a metal baseball bat with enough force to kill a man? The story has been told hundreds of times and not a single person has questioned it. Is Corey really able to just elbow a man to unconsciousness because he's strong? This body is two hundred pounds. I guide his arm. And now that I am back in control. I am going to guide Mikey eXtreme straight to an early grave unless he gives in to his demons within. Kneel before me and accept the wrath inside. Let the lust and greed go, there's no room for that when wrath is the only sin you require.
This body gives me life. Anybody that opposes it also opposes me. I like that. I like being challenged. All you fucking peons that beg and plead for me to be released, don't make me laugh. I don't do your bidding and neither does Corey. I am a weapon that is unleashed at the time I am needed. An agreement has been made - my corner of Corey's mind will never be tampered with as long as he lets me out to play every once in a while.
Mikey eXtreme, be prepared for what awaits you. You've felt something like me inside you for so long, but you never took advantage. If you think you have a chance, you'll have to let it consume you. Free it, Mikey. It lurks. Until then, let it be written. Let it be done. I'm sent here by COREY BLACK, THE CHOSEN ONE.
The BELL... TOLLS... FOR YOU.
Creeping Death moves himself closer to the camera on the phone. Nikki Venus is shaking horribly now, she's seen this entity before, and hell, it was her idea. But even she doesn't want to be this close to it. The glow from the screen on the opposide side illuminates his face even better, the terrifying sight of a monster born from pure wrath stands in the locker room, inside Corey Black's body. In a split second, he moves backward away from the phone and the lights click on, Nikki alone in the room. She darts her head all over, looking for Creeping Death, but he's not there.
Nikki drops her phone, and then drops to her knees, sobbing. She unleashed this.
The Seven Deadly Sins
Chapter 7: Creeping Death