Dissenting Tranquility

[Thomas Uriel Bates]

Dissenting Tranquility

Scene I “Get Up”
Garret Coliseum – Montgomery, Alabama

Get up!

He opens his eyes in obedience to the garbled and disoriented words in his head. He can only look up, as his body has yet to respond to the command. He can feel the broken frame of the table, and feel the cold fire of the barbwire wrapped around his arms cutting deeper and deeper with each slight movement.

Get up!

The order is shouted once again. He stirs, causing the barbwire to tighten and slice deeper into his arms. A broomstick finds its way towards him, mostly missing, but striking him in the ear. He feels the razor sharp barbwire enter his stomach with the full force of the heavy bat. The sharp wire tears away skin as it falls to the side and catches on his hip. A chair strikes him, now pieces of the table itself.

Get up!

He tries, but is unable. He is trapped. Unable to do anything in his defense. He watches helplessly as Corey Black, that monstrous demon masquerading as some benevolent hero of old, sends with force the breaching ram into his stomach. The pain is unbearable. He feels his organs flatten, his muscles too weak to defend them. His body, not to his choosing, sits up. Blood and vomit expel from his mouth from deep within his mangled body. Extinguished, the Mountain of WCF crumbles, falling to the side and resting in the now comparatively comfortable bed of twisted wires and accepts the warm embrace of its razor.

Get up!

The demand is stronger, forcing his eyes to pop open widely. He was no longer in the ring, and that demon no longer tormenting him. He was being carried away on a cold slab pushed by dozens of uniformed paramedics. He found his legs, arms, and body restrained, tied to the slab as if fearful of the monster’s thirst for revenge. The thirst was there, but the ability was not. This monster needed to heal, and he welcomed it. He closed his eyes and accepted the mercy of these strange but heroic men and women in uniform.

Get up!

Alas he would receive no such mercy from his own soul. The fire from the pit of his twisted and torn stomach rose to his chest and spread to every pour of his body. The fight was not over. The monster within would no longer allow himself to be contained. The demon must die, and must die tonight! The monstrous grip of the mountain must wrap itself around the demon’s throat and strangle the life from within. The Creeping Death would come to fear the Demon within the Mountain!

Laughter, laughter from within his own soul. Acceptance of the quest, and perhaps even of the consequences of such acceptance. Laughter not heard by the angels of mercy that carried the mountain towards tranquility. Laughter heard only by the mountain who fights the tranquil release offered.

He stirs, he shakes. The angels crowd him, begging him to accept their mercy. To their dismay the demon fights back, breaking free his chains and rising from his coffin. A fire in his eyes, a roar in his throat, the demon of the mountain is nearing his release!

No! Curse the darkness that is the Creeping Death! For he has chained the demon within the mountain and collapsed the cave in which he resides. The body of the mountain doubles over, but the mountain itself is not there. Blood spills from his lips, and he doubles over, sending the stretcher and several angels with him, but it is not the mountain in control of those actions. Not even the once demanding demon within the mountain controls these movements. Darkness overcomes him.

The Creeping Death, today, is victorious.

Scene II “Respect”
Baptist Medical Center, East – Montgomery, Alabama

You hear me you son of a bitch?! I NEED YOUR BEST AT SLAM!!!

The shouts of Kevin Bishop echoes inside the head of the sleeping giant. He hears it not as a thunderous shout, but as a slight whisper, barely carrying in the wind. Though Kevin Bishop has been speaking to him, yelling at him, the mountain barely hears, he barely comprehends. Until now, he had been in a deep sleep as his body recovers from the vicious beating at the hands of Creeping Death.

I NEED YOUR BEST AT SLAM!!!

Those words have been echoing inside his mind since Kevin Bishop’s visit. He felt certain he saw the nurse order him away, but he was unsure when that was. Did it happen just now, or several days ago? The whisper of the echo remained, but there was no telling when the echo began. It just echoed.

His eyes slowly open, though not fully. He was a contradiction. He was tired, but he was feeling energized. He was worn, but he felt rejuvenated. He felt the fire begin to burn, yet he felt the cold creeping in. He opens his eyes to see the dimly lit hospital room, then closes them. He opens them once more to see the sun had faded, and the room pitch black.

He opens his eyes again to a lit room, and the presence of Adrian Archer. He tries to keep his eyes open, but is unsuccessful. He blinks, and Adrian Archer is no longer there. The man before this groggy giant slightly resembles Archer, but is a man the giant has known well; George “Gonzo” Murdock. This cannot be true, Gonzo is dead. The medicine works, and sleep claims the giant once more.

I NEED YOUR BEST AT SLAM!!!

His eyes shoot out and scans across the room seeking the source of the echo; Kevin Bishop. Instead he finds sitting beside him in a chair, Lilith. She had been a constant annoyance to many in the locker room, and despised at some point by nearly everyone. Tonight however, she sat beside the mountain, sleeping in the pull out chair indicating her long vigil over the giant. She clutched an oversized teddy bear in her arms, holding it tight as she dreamed whatever dreams float inside her head. She was not the villain; this misunderstood creature was far from it. Bates smiled as he returned to his slumber.

He awakens once more and peaks over to still see Lilith faithfully hugging the oversized bear. He smiles once more, seeing not for the first time a sweet innocence in the dangerous creature before him. He turns to scan the room, trying to figure out just where he was.

A typical hospital room of course. White walls, white floors, tubes, wires, and machines everywhere. This hospital bed could be any hospital bed in the country. There was nothing indicating an exact location, at least not yet. Though since he was injured in Montgomery, he figured he was still there. He wondered where Slam would be, and if Seth still booked him in a match. Most likely. There was no way that drunkard was going to let Thomas Uriel Bates sit out of a show.

He continued to scan the room, glancing at even the darkest corners. He sees nothing, but there is an odd feeing. A strange feeling as if someone else was there. He glanced over at Lilith, perhaps she had waken, but no. She dreamed her dream, oblivious to the sensation in the room. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong.

His eyes were drawn to the darkest corner like metal to a magnet. He couldn’t yet see it, but he felt it. A dark presence in the room creeping closer towards the mountain. He looked hard in the shadows, seeking deeper than before. Something was there. Something wrong.

Did he just see it? Briefly a pale image, perhaps a face, showed itself through the darkness. No, it must be his eyes playing tricks. No, this was something else. Surely, was it? Is it? Is it not? The face came closer, yet never left the darkened corner. The pale face emerges before him with enlarged eyes pitched in blackness. Four distinct lines over the lips of the face. Before him now was the demon that had imprisoned him within these walls and had chained him to this bed. The Creeping Death emerges from the shadow with a grin on his face, and hungry eyes fixated on the resting mountain.

Laughter.

Another presence before them. One of familiarity and comfort, yet distance and unease. From another dark corner emerges another being. The smile comes first. Bright red, and covering nearly the entirety of his lower face. The blackened eyes, the pale face, the green hair, the purple suit, and the laughter. Oh the laughter! The new presence stepped beside the Creeping Death as the two stared each other down. The Creeping Death and Gemini Battle. Corey Black and Grayson Pierce.

The two turned back to the immobile giant, each with the widest of grins. The came closer. The mountain unable to move even though he tried. The monster within the mountain fighting to come out in order to face the threat. No! A defense denied to him, his body weighed down to where even he cannot bring it up.

As the two painted faces inch closer and closer to him; sleep calls. He fights, he struggles, but it is of no use. Sleep calls for everyone, and no one can fight it. Not even the Mountain of WCF.

I NEED YOUR BEST AT SLAM!!!

His eyes pop wide open and he sits up quickly, yanking on the wires and pulling the machines down. Alarms beep as the Mountain of WCF scans the room quickly. There is no Creeping Death, no Corey Black. There is no Gemini Battle, no Grayson Pierce. There is no Lilith. There was Serujah Goldstein and Tom-O-Hawk, both caught by surprise as they were exiting the room.

The nurses rush in to ensure that the giant was okay. They asked questions, he answered. He could feel the fire burning in him once again. The cold that had frozen him in place since Sunday was fading, and the burning fire of revenge remained. Serujah and Tom-O-Hawk tried to stay around longer, but the nurses rushed them out of the room as they ran countless tests on the giant.

Things never got calmer while he stayed in that room. Even when the nurses and doctors left, the mountain received many visitors. Damian Kaine came by, as did Dion Necurat. Crazy J and Salem Shepard also came by, which was strange in itself. C.J. Phoenix stopped by and checked on him, and also let him know about their upcoming match at Slam. Typical Seth; Bates was convinced that the day after he dies Seth Lerch will book him in a brutal battle royal and expect him to show. The way Bates was feeling at this moment, he would do everything he could to make it.

Cliff of Doom came by as well, bringing balloons and a box of chocolates. The chocolates had a pocket sized copy of the Constitution attached, which brought a smile to the giant’s face. Steven Singh left a card that made him laugh; “Try not to die. Also: does this mean the title is vacated or what?” Teddy Blaze sent a card as well; “Happy Retirement”. Bates did not know how to take that card, but he was thankful to get it anyway.

His father came as well, shocking the entire hospital with his massive size that even dwarfed the Mountain of WCF. His uncle came as well, as did many, many others. Thomas Uriel Bates truly at this moment felt loved. He felt, respected.

Scene III “Doubt”
Baptist Medical Center, East – Montgomery, Alabama

The pain was still there, even though the medicine did its best to subdue it. His insides were just squished, and he suffered multiple cuts and bruises from the assault by the Creeping Death. He was however, still here. It was the mistake that Corey Black would find as too costly. If you’re going to try to bring the monster out from the mountain, you best make sure you kill that monster.

He plotted in his head the revenge he would seek on the Creeping Death. How he was going to squeeze his thumbs into his eye sockets until his eyeballs explode. How he was going to shatter every bone, flatten every organ, and drain every ounce of blood from Corey Black. He suppressed this; it was not time.

It was not time to think of what to do to him. It was a time to heal. It was a time to recover, to put aside the inevitable for just a few days more. The thirst for revenge would have to wait, the wolves needed to be very hungry before the slaughter.

So he sat. In his hospital bed, covered by hospital blankets, wearing hospital gown, eating hospital food, and suffering the crowded loneliness of the room. He read through his book, the pages worn and used. The cover faded, but the title clear; “The Count of Monte Cristo”. He was a man driven by vengeance, what else would be suitable to pass the time?
Of course, he could pass this time speaking of his opponents for Slam. Yes, Seth Lerch had scheduled the injured giant in a match this week. He would be facing a friend yet foe, Kevin Bishop, as well as the rising fan favorite Psychopomp. At least he would have CJ Phoenix at his side, another man seeking the gold belt currently owned by the Mountain of WCF.

It sits there, resting on a table beside the bed. Someone had brought it to him, he could not remember who. The gold plated centerpiece proudly displaying the WCF name over a gold plated eagle with the sun rising from behind it. The WCF World Championship was a proud display that truly justified the desire by nearly all to own it.

Two of those men would be in the ring against him on Sunday. One across the ring, and the other within his own corner. He was a wounded animal, and he was certain the scavengers smelled the blood. Kevin Bishop would be calling of course; he had made that clear. CJ Phoenix as well may wish to make his presence known.

More thoughts to occupy his mind. Step into the ring on Sunday and be surrounded on all sides, feeling the pressure even from his own corner, and keeping his eyes on the darkness lurking about. Though a part of a team, he knew he would truly be alone.

Yet he would not be alone. Kevin Bishop so desperately wants to best him, personally, but Kevin Bishop is, at least to some degree, an honorable man. He wants a fight, a real fight. He doesn’t want a wounded bird limping around the ring, he wants the dangerous bird of prey to come forth with talons extended and beak piercing as loudly as its screech. Kevin Bishop wants to be the man to take down the Mountain, but Kevin Bishop is an honorable man.

Lost in his thoughts, our mountain seems to have missed the cameraman entering the room. Perhaps our giant had grown accustomed to visitors coming and going that he thought nothing of it. Perhaps though, he knew. Perhaps his distaste of the WCF Camera Crew had caused him to grow distant, especially now. Nevertheless, the cameras rolled and our World Champion barely acknowledges its existence.

He did speak, however. Though he still refused to face the camera. He closed his tired old book, and simply laid back in the bed, keeping his eyes fixed to the ceiling. Tiredness laced his words. The lullaby of his deep Southern Accent added to the sleepiness. His body was recovering, but oh was it tired.

Thomas Uriel Bates: I need your best at Slam.

He simply recited the words that once echoed through his head, and perhaps still did so. The words of Kevin Bishop himself when once he visited our mountain whilst sleeping.

Thomas Uriel Bates: Kevin, I want to thank you for your earlier visit. I know not what all you said, but one thing still rings in my ear. The passion behind your voice shined light on the truth buried within your soul. You do genuinely want me at my best at Slam. Not for just my health, although I am certain that played part somewhere. No, Kevin, you want me at my best at Slam so that we can have a match of epic proportions.

His voice grows stronger with each word. The mountain recovers, and quickly. The monster from within pounds away at the rocks which has caged him within. The fire grows until its flames can once again be seen in the eyes of the mountain itself.

Thomas Uriel Bates: You want to prove something, Kevin. You want to prove that it was not just my opponents you beat, but me as well. You are not satisfied with having defeated Teddy Blaze, nor are you satisfied with defeating Tom-O-Hawk and Captain WCF. No, Kevin you want to beat me.

You want to prove that everything you have been doing is paying off. You want to show the world that you can be more than just the People’s Champion. You can be the World Champion! And Kevin, make no mistake about it I know you can be.

You have to prove yourself! Not to me, Kevin, for I have judged you and found you deserving. You have not cause to doubt your abilities, nor your determination. The fans do not doubt you, the locker room does not doubt you, only you doubt you.

Your insecurities are dangerous, Kevin. They will cause you to make mistakes that you know deep down are mistakes. You know better, Kevin, but you will fall for them anyway. All to prove this point that you have determined to make. You want the world to know that Kevin Bishop can defeat Thomas Uriel Bates, and you will do anything to prove it.

You’re a smart man. You have a skill in that ring that one day will place you in the sky with legends. You have everything it takes to reach that destination, Kevin. What is it that causes you to doubt yourself? What is it, Kevin, that prevents you from reaching your destination?

You’re becoming distracted my friend. You are losing sight of your goal. You cannot defeat me, Kevin. Not because you’re not good enough, you are, but because you think you’re not good enough. In your mind Kevin, I am the mountain that you must climb to reach greatness. I am but a man, and can lose just like anyone else, but to you Kevin I am of Olympus or Asgard, and I am your biggest challenge, your greatest threat; the mountain that prevents you from crossing.

He chuckles. It hurts him to do so, but he does anyway.

Thomas Uriel Bates: You’ll see what I mean this Sunday.

He reaches for his worn out book and opens its tired old pages. He returns his thoughts to his own story, leaving the camera to close up, and leaving Kevin Bishop to ponder on these thoughts, should he be listening. Kevin Bishop was a smart man. Of course he would be listening.

Scene IV “Pomp and Circumstances”
Baptist Medical Center, East – Montgomery, Alabama

“Now, last week we talked about the physiology of the animal brain as it pertains to aggression. Now, is there anyone here that can tell me why most alligators are abnormally aggressive?”

The fake Colonel Sanders accent on the television, and the words spoken, indicated that our mountain was watching a movie. Not just any movie, but the Adam Sander “classic”, “The Waterboy.” Even our giant needs to clear his mind of the deepest of thoughts. What better way than watching someone be silly?

“I know the answer to this question.”

“Raise your hand.”

He watches the screen with wide eyes. He knows what’s coming, but he watches anyway.

“Anybody? Anyone? Yes, sir. You, sir.”

“Mama says that alligators are ornery ‘cause they got all them teeth but no toothbrush.”

Bates contains his laughter, barely.

“Yo mama said, alligators are ornery ‘cause they got all them teeth and no toothbrush. Wow!”

The mountain reaches for his remote, and flips off the television. The lighthearted expression on his face turned to one of annoyance. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be out. He wanted to be training, he wanted to be exploring the country, he wanted to go and do things, mix in with the people, see their faces and talk to them. All of this denied to him.

Normally Bates would be out and about. Visiting local sites in the town where they would hold Slam. They were in Lexington this week. Bates could have gone to the Kentucky Horse Park, the Hunt-Morgan House, Ashland, the countless Horse Farms, Lexington was a beautiful place to visit. No, Bates had to stay here in Montgomery until the Doctors released him.

A city of corrupt politicians filling their pockets with the people’s money while claiming to be so shorthanded. A city in which sits a Governor who sends for a helicopter to retrieve his wallet while he’s away on vacation with his girlfriend rather than his wife. A government pretending to be “conservative” and pretending to uphold “republican” values, a government of lies.

Bates at one time wanted to change that. He wanted to come in and fix what was wrong with this State. He thought he could be their Senator in the United States Congress, but that did not work well for him. Funny thing about “Republicans”, you start defending the values of our Republic and they stop liking you. Democrats are no better, in fact it could be said they are worse. They deny the existence of our Republic in favor of a more chaotic democratic forum.

When he lost, he didn’t want to stick around Montgomery anymore. He was quickly resenting the city. He made a promise to himself that even if they had a show in this city, he would not stay there a single night. Corey Black made him a liar.

Our mountain was trying to get in a better mood, but it just wasn’t happening. He needed to get his mind off of Montgomery, and off of Corey Black. He needed to relax, think about the finer things in life. Think about something funny, something entertaining. Bring his mind to lighter things.

It’s good that he WCF Cameraman entered the room when he did. Our giant had finally discovered what he could do to lighten his heart. He could talk about his upcoming match, and the WCF Camera Crew loved when he did. The Camera Crew used him for their ratings, but today Bates could use them as a distraction.

Thomas Uriel Bates: Well, hello there. Come right on in.

Understandably, the cameraman was hesitant. Rarely is Thomas Uriel Bates welcoming of the intruding cameras.

Thomas Uriel Bates: So it seems that Seth Lerch has booked me for a match this Sunday at Slam. While the doctors certainly feel that I need to take some time off, I can enjoy the push to heal faster and return to the ring. I do have my obligations, now don’t I? Wouldn’t want to be like some so-called “champions” who only make an appearance once every two or three months while parading around like some kind of “beast”, now would I?

So here we are, booked for another match against Kevin Bishop. We seem to be doing this dance a lot lately, don’t we? Each time we meet it’s in some sort of tag team match up. Last week he teamed with Crazy J and CJ Phoenix, this time I team with CJ Phoenix while he teams up with Psychopomp. I suspect that soon I will team with Psychopomp against Kevin Bishop and CJ Phoenix. It seems to be an endless cycle, doesn’t it?

So just who is Psychopomp? This is a man who had his debut on Slam back in June and defeated Gregory St. Matthews. After the match, Pomp extends his hand in friendship and helps up his opponent showing a world of class. Yet, when Severan King came out, Psychopomp who looked willing to defend his fallen foe, cowered down.

Sadly, I think that has defined his stay here. The man shows great promise. He has amazing skill in that ring, and he can go on to achieve great things. I still enjoy watching his match against Mikey eXtreme from time to time. Psychopomp has such promise, but I fear he will never achieve it.

He’s an innocent really, not always the serious fighter. He seems to find himself in crazy schemes, and never really knowing what he’s done. He is innocent, but he is a fighter none-the-less. He performed quite well in the Television Title Battle Royal, and although he lost he came in at number three. He came very close to beating Kevin Bishop for the People’s Title. He defeated The Baron and entered the King of the Deathmatch Tournament where after two brutal back to back defeats he finally pulls out a win against Adrian Archer, known at that time as At-At-At. He beats Adam Young in the tournament, and came very close to beating out the legendary Odin Balfore.

Psychopomp shoes great talent, great promise. He could be things here. He could go on to greatness. He however, is his own enemy. He is now subservient to Kevin Bishop and The Brotherhood. He has once again backed down from a challenge, just as he did his very first night here.

Maybe I’m wrong. Kevin is a smart man, and very talented. Maybe Pomp will learn from him, maybe even finally be able to take a stand. Maybe Psychopomp will come out of his own shadow, and join the ranks of the greatest wrestlers in WCF. I know he has it in him, but sadly he does not know this. Time will tell.

With that, our giant was finished. He had completed his obligations for the camera crew, and he was now free to rest. He didn’t want to though. He wanted to get up, he wanted to move, he wanted to get back into the fight.

He wanted Corey Black.

Scene V “I’m Coming”
Baptist Medical Center, East – Montgomery, Alabama

Please, take the week off.

Doctors don’t usually understand that drive that a wrestler has. Even if we’re not at our best, we want to make it to the next show. We want to be there not just for the match, but for our fans as well. That drive to fight in that ring surrounded by thousands of screaming fans gives an adrenaline rush that for wrestlers, there is no equal.

Then of course, there’s the drive for vengeance. When a man has been attacked with such brutality as that which was done at the hands of Corey Black, then a man can do one of two things. A man can take it as a lesson to never cross that person again. The other choice, much more to Bates’ liking, was to grit your teeth, clinch your fist, and seek out those who wronged you and seek vengeance. That is what he would do now.

He had been released. No longer confined to the white room full of wires, tubes, and machines. No longer confined to the bed, covered with a thin blanket and an even thinner gown. No longer at the mercy of doctors and nurses. He was free. The mountain had been released.

He stood here, just outside the entrance to the hospital facing a dark but crowded parking lot. Never-mind that he was facing the opposite direction, he could see clearly towards Lexington, Kentucky. He could see in his eyes Corey Black sitting on his false throne, so confident in himself, so smug. So insecure in his status as a legend in this business that he must constantly remind people with regal displays or the constant fight against someone else who has begun their own legend.

Corey Black was stuck too far in the past that he could not see the future. The two go hand in hand, but Corey Black would rather forsake the future for a lifetime of remembrance of days gone by. He wanted to remember Pantheon, to remember the Creeping Death, to remember his legacy and his legacy alone. He saw no value in anything else. He saw no equal, and he certainly saw nothing greater.

That was his flaw. The vanity of Corey Black would be his downfall. To secure his place the Creeping Death sought to take on the mountain. He wanted to destroy the mountain, to make it crumble. What the Creeping Death could not understand, was that the mountain contained a monster.

This monster would be unleashed. This monster would seek out the Creeping Death and devour him. He would destroy the legacy of Corey Black and make his memory one of pity and humiliation. The monster within the mountain would destroy the very essence of Corey Black.

That’s not what Thomas Uriel Bates originally wanted. He contained the monster within, as he felt it an honor to face a legend such as Corey Black. He thought they would have a good match. A fair match, one for the record books. He thought they would meet in fair combat, and perhaps even a torch to be passed. No, Corey Black would never give up the torch freely. Corey Black does not seek a fair fight, or a good match. He wants to destroy Thomas Uriel Bates.

Instead he releases the monster within the mountain. He releases anger, he releases hate. He releases something he will never fully understand. When the monster of the mountain squeezes the life out of his worthless body, only then will the Creeping Death understand. He releases the monster, and he will suffer the consequences.

A black limousine pulls up in front of the angry giant. The door opens, inviting him in. He accepts, and enters the limousine to discover another passenger. One of great familiarity, a member of the family. He discovers his uncle, Alexander James. The man who knows well the power of monsters, a man who controls demons, and holds a power over them unlike any other man. A man, who will train the mountain to use the monster wisely. The door shuts, and the vehicle moves on.

Corey Black, I’m coming.