Tale of Chicago: Two Unlikely Heroes.
Oct 13, 2017 8:55:10 GMT -5
Alex Richards, Joey Flash, and 2 more like this
Post by "Iron Heart" Ethan King on Oct 13, 2017 8:55:10 GMT -5
Even with Everest in flux, Everest Eye itself had always remained strong and able. It towered above the ground, extending like a menacing arm reaching straight into the heavens, ready to drag down the Gods that had been placed on a pedestal above man. Through both good times and the bad, The Eye of Everest was steadfast in its resolve, even the constant gusts of wind in Chicago could not faze it, even as the men who brought it into its current existence fell short of their goals.
David Sanchez had faded away, his private life being whisked away under the rug while he made less than impressive showings at events each and every week. The more time that went by, the more clear it became that something was wrong with the man – something else was on his mind. The World Title. WAR? It all seemed to mean nothing to him now.
Stephen Singh meanwhile, had fallen into a hole. The World Title that he had impressively won back at Ultimate Showdown… gone. And his attempts to earn the privilege to fight for it once more at WAR only turned out to backfire. The Thief in the Night, one of WCF’s finest talents, had gone from leading the company into the Golden Age… to suffering the most humiliating night of his career, losing almost everything that mattered to him.
But the most disappointing out of all these? The tragic tale of Ethan King. The Future King. The One In The Shadows. And now? The Iron Heart. Once upon a time, a pure-hearted and happy-go-lucky kid with no expectation, but enough talent to shock The World into believing in him. His abilities now far surpassed what he once had, but even then, circumstances and bouts of poor luck kept him cornered away, hidden by the powers that be into reigning as mid-card champion.
This was not his end-game, this was not what was meant to happen. Ethan King was meant to walk into WAR, and walk out with a shot at the World Title in his hands, and subsequently, the main-event spot of ONE. But this wasn’t how it worked out, and that? That would be something he would have to deal with. He knew where he went wrong.
Now it was time to mend that problem once and for all, and what better place to do it then at XIII? A staple of the WCF, hosted by one of, if not the greatest athlete in WCF history. The King of All Wrestlers, Corey Black. This man was the standard, this man was what all would strive to match, but for Ethan? This man was one that he strived to surpass.
It would all start now, when he put WCF’s pride on the line against a batch of UCI’s finest. At least, that was what he had been told.
Ethan King sat in the foyer area of the Eye of Everest. It was generic and simple enough. A reception desk that was hardly ever used, due to no real ‘visitors’ ever being checked into the building. A select few overly priced chairs that were used as compensation for the fact that the facility itself had little in terms of actual entertainment (because why would it? It was made purely for ‘archives and information storage’, remember?), and a table that every now and again, would offer a selection of wine, scotch and whiskey – a personal touch from the Mayor himself, which often just gave him an excuse to drink to his heart’s content.
The sliding doors to the entrance of Everest Eye welcomed in the familiar face of Stephen Singh, although it appeared far grimmer in nature than what it usually did. His steps were heavy, muscles tensed as he gave a curt nod in the direction of Ethan, who rose to greet him. The two exchanged a firm handshake, and although Ethan offered him a kind smile – one that wasn’t returned by the former World Champion – the tension in the room was certainly felt by both men.
‘You seem less chipper than usual.’
Almost instantly, Stephen responds, sneering.
‘Shouldn’t you be too? We were humiliated at WAR, and we were shown up last week too. Throw David kicking the bucket into the mix, and we’re pretty much dead on our feet.’
With a nonchalant shrug, Ethan smiles.
‘We’ve dealt with failure before. At our first pay-per-view, I didn’t even show up to the arena for my match, David lost in the Trilogy Cup, you lost your tag-team title to The Captain… hell, even Sebastian Knight lost the TV Title to-‘
‘Rabid, I know.’
‘Well if you learned anything from that, you’d know that we bounced back. We captured pretty much every belt in the fucking company, and with little effort too. That’s why we’re going to be the faction of the year, and that… that’s why we’re going to win at XIII, too.’
‘I’m loving your little pep talk, really I am but… it’s pointless, Ethan. What’s the point? Why would I care about a match against UCI fodder when I’ve just lost the World. Heavyweight. Championship.’
Ethan sighs, and then slaps his partner on the shoulder.
‘I don’t know about you, but I still have some WCF Pride left in me. I’d fucking shoot myself I allowed UCI to walk into a WCF show and win on our home turf. We’re better than that, and plus… you and I both have a statement to make.’
‘And what would that be, exactly?’
‘We’re staking our claim to the top once again. We fell short, we did. But there’s no point in getting complacent now, not when we’ve already had a taste of greatness. We’re going to get back to the top of the federation, I can assure you that. We just have to work our way back into the mix. That’s what I’m planning on starting at XIII. You get me?’
Stephen ignores him, and instead opts to take a seat upon one of the leather couches. He scans the table to observe the selection of drinks on offer, and scowls. He snaps his fingers at the receptionist sitting lazily at her desk, before projecting his voice through the foyer area over toward her.
‘Get me a tea, would you?’
‘Don’t want to drown out your sorrow with some alcohol? I heard it’s an effective strategy.’
Although the tone of Ethan’s voice was clearly joking, Stephen’s glare towards him was anything but light-hearted. Ethan shook his head, frowning slightly.
‘Look, I get your pissed. Alright? I fucking get it. I am too, I just lost my one and only chance at getting a World Title match this year, and that’s eating me up. But I also know that if I don’t get back into my groove, then I won’t be getting a World Title shot – period. Is that what you want to do, Steve? Do you want to be a one hit wonder who never grabbed the big one again? Do you want to be called a fluke?’
Silence from the former World Champion.
‘Give me until ONE. I’m going to figure shit out, I’m going to come up with a plan. You’ve already got a chance at the Final Destination contract, and if I defend my title at the biggest show of the year? Then I’ll probably be in line for an opportunity too. Just let everything play out and we’ll-‘
‘Someone in need of advice on how to get a World Title? Because your boy right here has two of them.’
‘You mean you HAD two of them.’
‘Same shit, man. Don’t kill the vibe.’
Frank Patrick Venable entered the room with an obvious excitement in his step. He hadn’t known what to except upon entering The Eye of Everest, especially when considered the fact that the building itself was owned by arguably one of his biggest rivals in recent memory. However, the Grand Slam Champion knew that, for the greatest chances of success, he would need to get on the same page as the two men that were before him.
Ignoring Stephen’s comment, Ethan smiles graciously and approaches Frank. He reaches out to offer him a handshake, which Frank readily takes. The two of them had come to blows at the Revenge pay-per-view, where they put on a brutal and fiery display of both skill and savagery in a match that came down to the wire. Although they hadn’t interacted since then, there was a feeling of mutual respect that both men had come to acknowledge.
‘Hey, Frank. Appreciate you coming down here, you didn’t have to. Then again, we both know you love Chicago, right? Especially when you get to visit buildings owned by one David Sanchez.’
Frank chuckles at this comment, as he releases his grip of Ethan’s hand.
‘I’d hope you didn’t just call me here with a plot to murder me. You sure he isn’t just hiding out somewhere, waiting to knife me in the back?’
‘You both done having your nice chat? If you are, great. I have somewhere I’d much rather be right now. You should be grateful I even showed up here in the first place.’
Now sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and with tea in hand, Stephen Singh beckons for both men to come down to the seating area in the lobby. They both comply rather reluctantly. Ethan gestures towards the bottles of alcohol situated on the table in between them whilst looking at Frank, who shakes his head.
‘Alright. Strategy, who’s going first?’
‘This is simple. We’re superior to them. It’s not a contest. I’m kind of insulted you even suggest we have a meeting, if I’m being honest.’
‘Don’t underestimate them man. Bonnie and Richards are solid as fuck, and L Verez seems like a wildcard. Upsets can always happen.’
‘I’m with Frank on this one. Sure, we’re better than them individually. But they’re a strong unit, and we don’t exactly have an impeccable scouting report on them.’
‘I can spot their weakness from a mile away, can’t you? We have a huge advantage in one area that will make the rest of the match a cakewalk.’
‘And what’s that, exactly?’
Ethan glances over at Stephen, feeling as though he understands what he is getting at. With a smile, he speaks.
‘You’re talking about size and style, aren’t you?’
Stephen gives a small nod, while understanding begins to dawn over the face of FPV.
‘I see what you’re getting at.’
‘If we match-up one on one against each opponent in a particular way, we’ll virtually be assuring our victory. Put me up against Bonnie, for instance. She’s far smaller, and yet we still have a relatively similar amount of agility, even though I have far more strength, reach and leverage to work with. If we’re going by her WAR performance? There’s little to no doubt that I’ll overmatch her, especially when considering she’s always proven to be an underwhelming choke artist when it comes to any event associated with the WCF.’
He then glances towards FPV.
‘Then we’ve got you, Frank… we put you up against L Verez. Once again, you’ve got a large height advantage, and the experience gap can almost be considered insurmountable. One of the most dangerous strikers in the world with solid technical skill… against someone who in comparison to you is entirely inexperienced in the ring, with decent technical ability, but little else except flash and no substance. This is what you call a mismatch. If you and I cut these two down and limit their potentially fast-paced offense? Then we basically secure our victory.’
Now he turns his attention towards Stephen Singh.
‘Steve, you’ve probably already worked it out, but all you’ve got to do is avoid high-impact moves from Richards. He’s a dangerous competitor, no doubt… but you’re far too good of a technical wrestler to get caught by any of his moves – they take far too long to set up. All you have to do is not get complacent. Keep frustrating him with reversals, chop away at his legs to the point he can hardly stand.
‘If we all take advantage of our natural physical advantages, and then just work in this outline of a game-plan… our victory is assured. Think about it this way, we go about the match with this type of attack, and we leave them with no room to execute any sort of team attacks. The only way we’ll find ourselves in trouble during this match is if we allow them to gain momentum and start letting their team work overwhelm us. But if we cut each of them down bit by bit? They stand no chance.’
FPV nods, both lips pursed together.
‘Sounds good enough to me. But these are all just theories, you never know what can go down once we actually step into that chamber.’
‘Chamber or not, we’re finishing this quick. I don’t have time to waste dealing with nobodies.’
‘You might want to pay them at least a little bit of respect. Two out of the three of them have become World Champion before, you know?’
‘If that was here, in the WCF – you know, the actual place that matters when it comes to wrestling – I might have been mildly impressed. Emphasis on the word might.’
Frank looks towards Ethan incredulously.
‘Well he’s a joy to be around, isn’t he? I wonder how the three of you managed to survive being stuck in this tower with one another day in and day out.’
‘Well Frank, you can’t deny talent. But the key thing to remember is that went talent works together? They become exponentially stronger. That’s why were brought you in here, that’s why we’re discussing how we’re going to win this match. This isn’t just about some win. This is about putting on a show at XIII, and it’s about giving UCI a taste of what they’re going to get in the Hellimination match.’
‘I feel you on that.’
With an abrupt clap of his hands, Stephen Singh rises to his feet, a forced smile spread thinly over his lips.
‘Well, seems like we've got it all sorted, right? I’d say I could’ve figured this all out on my own, but that’d be rude. Anyway, I’ll see the two of you at XIII. Don’t drag me down.’
Without even looking back at the two of them, Stephen finishes his cup of tea and sets it down on the table. He then exits The Eye of Everest, walking out onto the streets of Chicago. FPV shoots Ethan a look, who shrugs.
‘He’ll be on his game for the match. I doubt he’ll let what happened at WAR slide for long.’
‘I hope so.’
Frank then surveys the surrounding facility once more, before promptly standing up.
‘I’d best be off too, man. I hate to say it, but this place is kind of giving me the creeps. I guess that’s what happens when you let a guy who calls himself ‘The Hollow King’ design a building from the ground up.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
Before leaving, Frank shakes Ethan’s hand once more, the two men nodding towards one another; as the former leaves, the latter makes his way up to his own personal quarters, followed by a lone cameraman. Upon reaching his quarters, he paces over towards the window and turns around, a smile ever-present over his young face.
‘The pleasantries are over people. The just before? That was just some light skirmishing. That was me walking into the first round and only hitting all three of you with some quick jabs. Sure, they don’t cause much damage, but you know what they do manage to do? They get you worried. With each one that lands, you start to realize that you’re out of your depth. That you’re fundamentally weak in comparison to me, and that mentally? You don’t stand a fucking chance.
‘We’re living in an odd World, people. We’re in a World where UCI seem to think they stand any sort of chance at defeating the WCF at their own game. Have you not yet realized that you’re all flying the banner of WCF-Lite, with a small hint of originality injected in by the self-proclaimed ‘Antidote’? Each of you are blinded and ignorant, unaware of each and every objective fact that prove that you’re inferior. Let me point out to you where you all fall severely short of the mark.
‘First of all, you all seem to grow excited by the mere fact that some of your best (see: Kevin Bishop, Bonnie Blue, Shadowlove) managed to make it to the final ten in the biggest match of the WCF Calendar Year. If we’re going by that logic, shouldn’t you all be fucking ashamed? Dustin Beaver, a guy who couldn’t even touch the upper-card in the WCF, managed to win your Infinity match, the cheap knock off of the WAR match with featured UCI’s ‘cream of the crop’.
‘Are we being legitimate right now, or are you all just here to have a good time? I’m beginning to think the latter, because this shit is already starting to get out of hand. At XIII, I’m going to be stepping into the ring with three of the Guardians, which is basically a stable that over the last what… eighteen months… has been filled with WCF dropouts, failures, or a mixture of both.
‘Jay Omega won WAR and then bounced after realizing he couldn’t cut it being the World Champ. Andre Holmes was done competing in the upper-midcard, which made him leave to the UCI where he could actually be touted as someone in the main-event. Alex Richards was literally only ever known for being the Internet Champion, and struggled to make his awkward and artificial relationship with Pantheon ever stick, and Bonnie Blue turned out to be a general, all-round failure who could never really come away with a big win that ever mattered for more than a month. In fact, you could argue that her only real meaningful win would be the one against David Sanchez, and even then she completely failed to capitalize on any momentum she may have gained from that single win. The only person who hasn’t yet competed in a WCF ring would be L Verez, can I go ahead and assume that she’s about as underwhelming as the rest of your faction – including both previous and current members? I think I’d be right in doing so, considering she hasn’t even managed to do something in UCI alone.
‘Now, let’s take a step back for a moment, and analyze everything I’ve just said. If you look at it all, you’ll notice that for the most part… the people who FAIL to cut it in the main-event scene at WCF… somehow manage to be at the forefront of everything happening in UCI. How? How can something like that happen? How can a group of people be mediocre in one company, but excel heavily in another place altogether? It’s simple.
‘UCI simply doesn’t have a talent level that can compete with the best of the best in the WCF. This isn’t here say, this isn’t me being disrespectful. This is me being straight up. So what makes any of you three that I’ll be facing at XIII think you stand a chance against me, or either of my partners for that matter?
‘We’re three of the best WCF has seen in recent years. FPV is a certified Grand Slam Champion. Stephen Singh has thus far had a career that has been filled with excellence and accolades, all of which have been topped off with a win at Ultimate Showdown. And me? I’ve broken the mold. I’ve hit main-event, superstar level without even being given a legitimate World Title shot. While Bonnie and Alex were desperate to get attention from the crowd, never getting anything except a cheap face pop every now and again, I’ve been on my grind week in and week out, beating the best offered to me, winning every championship match I’ve been in, proving TIME and TIME again why I am simply the ‘next man up’ when it comes to the World Heavyweight Championship.
‘Meanwhile, I’m going to be competing against ‘L Verez’. Tell me, what gave you the motivation to come to the WCF for a one-off showing. Exposure? The chance to face an infinitely more talented athlete in myself? Well you’ve come to the right place, my friend. If I’m being honest, you are of little interest to me. You have a typical gimmick of a ‘Guardian’ in the UCI, but you bring little of your own work to the table. You’re the generic ‘motivated’ type, you say you have fire in your belly, but for what? To defend the galaxy? Or to achieve greatness in the ring?
‘You don’t have enough work ethic and dedication toward wrestling to ever come near my ability. I have spent the better part of my college life striving for one thing, and one thing only – to be the best. You on the other hand? You’re fine with playing third fiddle on a team filled with equally uninspiring people, people who have already reached the top of the SECOND highest peak in the wrestling world – that being UCI – while failing miserably in conquering THE highest peak in the wrestling world. The character of people is often spoken about in regards to the company people keep, and we can see your character simply by your selection of people to follow into the footsteps of. Bonnie and Alex? They’re small fry in the larger scheme of things. Sure, they’ve reached the top of a second-rate organization, but do they show any of the blood, sweat and tears that all of WCF’s World Champions (except Jay Omega) have shown proudly? Do they really have the iron will, guts and determination that will allow them to surpass my ability?
‘You’re a fool if you think so. At the moment? You’re ignorant, L Verez. You feel safe and happy in the knowledge that you’re competing in a place where the danger is minimal. But I will show you the light. I will show you what it means to be a true champion.
‘Speaking of champions… hello Mr. Richards. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, although I feel as though you won’t be saying the same after my team is done smacking you around the nightmare chamber for a good fifteen minutes.
‘You’ve never impressed me, Alex. Whether it be your underwhelming run in the WCF, or even your time spent in the UCI. You’re lacking the X Factor that will ever make you a coveted member of a wrestling roster. You limit yourself, hiding your potential away by sticking with a group of people who are usually more talented than you are by comparison. Look at Pantheon, you were a lackey that could never get out of the Internet Division, and even when you were given the chance to break free? You didn’t take it, you never did, you were too scared to ever dare try something out of your comfort zone.
‘Then came The Guardians. Your chance to become a sensation, and you came close! I commend you for actually trying this time. You won the World Title. Sure, you beat Howard Black who… oh my! Couldn’t win the big one in WCF, and ended up winning it in UCI instead! Are we starting to see a pattern here? Anyway, you win the World Title, and you carry it for a bit, and then you drop it… and then… and then… you’re never seen with it again.
‘What’s the matter, Alex? Struggling to find your groove? Sure, you’ve got a solid record, but you’re once again stuck in a void where nothing you can ever matter to the people at the top of the card. You’re supposedly a mainstay of UCI, but where’s the evidence? You simply don’t have the mentality of a real, true, thoroughbred champion. You’re a happy-go-lucky guy, a fucking parody of people who actually live wrestling. You get your small amount of your success, you become content, and then you become a complacent little shit without any shred of dignity.
‘You’ll be wishing you worked harder when you step into the ring with me at XIII. I didn’t take kindly to your federation barging down at the gate of the WCF… and you saw what I did in that match. I went toe to toe with the best you had to offer. I outlasted Kevin Bishop and Bonnie Blue – even though I had been the FIRST man to enter that match. I took every shot Andre Holmes could give me, and I came back and eliminated him when he was at his very fucking best. And now, Alex? I’m about to do the same to you. I’m about to look in the eyes of one of UCI’s finest…and laugh as I cut him down to size before finishing him off for good.
‘And that would leave only one left… Bonnie Blue. Yes, arguably the second biggest choke artist behind David Sanchez. Similar to most of your faction, you couldn’t quite achieve what you wanted to in the WCF, so you up and left to UCI. And what do you know? You actually managed to do something over there! I’m proud of you Bonnie, I’m impressed that you somehow had the immense willpower to survive through the constant failure and belittling you received during your time here in the WCF. But honestly, can we say you didn’t deserve it? You would consistently pick a fight with someone far better than you (see: John Rabid) and then act surprised when they either…
‘A): Beat you down miserably, or…
‘B): Didn’t care about fighting you at all.
‘Hell, even Jay Omega, someone you’ve known for a while now, couldn’t even give a fuck about your existence. You’re a subpar performer who has somehow managed to weasel her way into a World Championship reign… except it came in the wrong place. It’s unfortunate you didn’t manage to do the same to you here, because if you did? I would’ve torn down the walls around you and given you a lesson, I would’ve taught you about the missteps you’ve taken in your career, and how you actually could mean something if you just gave yourself the chance.
‘You cry about being discredited by other people, you cry about the opinion other people have on you, and you allow yourself and your voice to become drowned out by those that encompass you. It’s fucking pathetic. Instead of showing your will, instead of rising above the adversity like many people have done before you, you’d rather SUCCUMB to it and allow it to bring you down.
‘I’ve got you fucking shook, Bonnie. I know I do. You didn’t even have the guts to address me during your little tirade at WAR. You tackled most of the other people in the match, even some of the supposed ‘heavy hitters’. But me? Nope, you shied away from that challenge. You knew what was coming to you if you even dared step in my direction. And you were fucking right.
‘You take the risk of stepping toward a King? And only one of two things can happen.
‘I’ll either smile graciously, and allow you to live to fight another day… or I put you out of your fucking misery and execute you right where you stand.
‘I’m giving you a chance, Bonnie. I’m giving you a chance to look at every mistake you’ve made during your time here in the WCF, and I’m allowing you the opportunity to redeem yourself. But will you take it? No, you won’t. Because you have a predisposition, a fear that tells you that you can’t do it, a mentality that makes you weak and feeble before my feet… one that I will capitalize on in the fullest, because unlike you? I make the most of my opportunities.
‘Just remember that, when I leave you broken beneath my feet, succumbing once again to the nightmares that brew in your mind and cause you to become weak at the knees. It’s sad, Bonnie. At first, I was rather excited for this match-up, I was excited to be coming up against some new competition that could perhaps provide me with a challenge… but then I looked at the cold, hard facts.
‘Instead of a challenging back and forth battle, this is what we have. We have a throwaway match at XIII where I will have to embarrass The Guardians and leave little to no doubt as to who will be walking away the victor at Hellimination when the WCF and the UCI gather their best to discover who really is the superior between the two organizations.
‘To all of you in the Guardians, and all those die-hard UCI fans watching right now, I want you to know something.
‘This massacre that’s about to occur by my hand? It’s only a fucking preview of what’s to come.’
Ethan smiles towards the camera, dropping both the scowl and furrowed brows that made his features age well beyond his years even at the young age of twenty-two.
‘And now, if you all don’t mind – I have business to attend to.’
With a graceful turn, Ethan begins to walk with his back to the camera, and within a few moments has disappeared out of sight completely behind two closing elevator doors. Intrigued by his last words, the cameraman begins to hurriedly pace up the stairs, causing the piece of film to turn into a blurry mess of frantic shaking as he attempts to catch up to Ethan. After ascending a few flights of stairs, he can be heard breathing deeply, but otherwise remains silent, pointing the recording device slyly from around the corner of the wall next to the staircase.
To no surprise, The Future King is revealed to be standing in front of a door… a door leading into the personal quarters of one David Sanchez. Ethan punches in what appears to be a PIN code, causing the door to unlock which then allows him to push it open with the palm of his hand. He steps inside, ignoring the lavishly decorated room in favour of a different course of action. In a manner that can only be described as rushed, Ethan begins to scour through the numerous drawers that belong in the quarters. He opens one after another, and unleashes a frustrated sigh as he cannot find what he seems to be looking for.
That is, until he finds the same manilla folder that The Mayor of Chicago had shown him seven months ago, when Everest had first come into reality and had begun the path of domination that had only now just begun to fade into obscurity. Marked on the folder were two words.
To the unaware, uneducated, the entirely ignorant, or perhaps all three put together, these two words would mean little; most would assume this were just another petty little scheme conjured up by a Mayor who wanted to put on a façade, one which told the people that he would help them and bring their city into a golden age. However, Ethan had laid his eyes on the documents contained within this folder before, and he knew – at least to some extent – what was planned for this city.
His memory of the document had been shoddy, he had only been given a brief moment to look at it, before David had whisked it away – something about the details inside being “far too important to all be revealed at once.”
He had never understood what Sanchez had meant by that. And now? He wanted to find out.
A minute went by, and even just skimming through the folder was enough for Ethan’s stomach to begin to churn, as his lips began to curve down into a deep frown. Not wanting to waste a moment, he whisked the folder away into the inside of his suit jacket, hiding it away from any employees who may see him leaving from Sanchez’s quarters.
While walking out of the office of sorts, Ethan reaches down into his pocket, pulling his phone out. A quick scan through the Everest archives the day prior to his investigation of David’s office allowed him to find the contact details to this man, a man he felt he would need to get in contact with if his gut feeling about “Operation Everest” turned out to be correct.
He hits the call button, and brings the phone up to his right ear, still keeping the folder hidden close at his side.
‘John, you there?’
Through the phone, although it is difficult to hear, the voice of the reigning WCF World Heavyweight can be heard.
‘I shall assume you’ve found what you were looking for?’
Although the man on the other end of the phone cannot see him, he nods emphatically, a grim look coming over him.
‘You’re fucking right I have.’
‘And how serious is the issue?’
Ethan glances back into the office, and even from his view from outside the room, he can still see the beautiful hue of blue that the sky of midday conveys. He braces himself, knowing that once he has made this commitment, he simply cannot go back. Ever.
‘We need to destroy The Eye of Everest.’
David Sanchez had faded away, his private life being whisked away under the rug while he made less than impressive showings at events each and every week. The more time that went by, the more clear it became that something was wrong with the man – something else was on his mind. The World Title. WAR? It all seemed to mean nothing to him now.
Stephen Singh meanwhile, had fallen into a hole. The World Title that he had impressively won back at Ultimate Showdown… gone. And his attempts to earn the privilege to fight for it once more at WAR only turned out to backfire. The Thief in the Night, one of WCF’s finest talents, had gone from leading the company into the Golden Age… to suffering the most humiliating night of his career, losing almost everything that mattered to him.
But the most disappointing out of all these? The tragic tale of Ethan King. The Future King. The One In The Shadows. And now? The Iron Heart. Once upon a time, a pure-hearted and happy-go-lucky kid with no expectation, but enough talent to shock The World into believing in him. His abilities now far surpassed what he once had, but even then, circumstances and bouts of poor luck kept him cornered away, hidden by the powers that be into reigning as mid-card champion.
This was not his end-game, this was not what was meant to happen. Ethan King was meant to walk into WAR, and walk out with a shot at the World Title in his hands, and subsequently, the main-event spot of ONE. But this wasn’t how it worked out, and that? That would be something he would have to deal with. He knew where he went wrong.
Now it was time to mend that problem once and for all, and what better place to do it then at XIII? A staple of the WCF, hosted by one of, if not the greatest athlete in WCF history. The King of All Wrestlers, Corey Black. This man was the standard, this man was what all would strive to match, but for Ethan? This man was one that he strived to surpass.
It would all start now, when he put WCF’s pride on the line against a batch of UCI’s finest. At least, that was what he had been told.
Ethan King sat in the foyer area of the Eye of Everest. It was generic and simple enough. A reception desk that was hardly ever used, due to no real ‘visitors’ ever being checked into the building. A select few overly priced chairs that were used as compensation for the fact that the facility itself had little in terms of actual entertainment (because why would it? It was made purely for ‘archives and information storage’, remember?), and a table that every now and again, would offer a selection of wine, scotch and whiskey – a personal touch from the Mayor himself, which often just gave him an excuse to drink to his heart’s content.
The sliding doors to the entrance of Everest Eye welcomed in the familiar face of Stephen Singh, although it appeared far grimmer in nature than what it usually did. His steps were heavy, muscles tensed as he gave a curt nod in the direction of Ethan, who rose to greet him. The two exchanged a firm handshake, and although Ethan offered him a kind smile – one that wasn’t returned by the former World Champion – the tension in the room was certainly felt by both men.
‘You seem less chipper than usual.’
Almost instantly, Stephen responds, sneering.
‘Shouldn’t you be too? We were humiliated at WAR, and we were shown up last week too. Throw David kicking the bucket into the mix, and we’re pretty much dead on our feet.’
With a nonchalant shrug, Ethan smiles.
‘We’ve dealt with failure before. At our first pay-per-view, I didn’t even show up to the arena for my match, David lost in the Trilogy Cup, you lost your tag-team title to The Captain… hell, even Sebastian Knight lost the TV Title to-‘
‘Rabid, I know.’
‘Well if you learned anything from that, you’d know that we bounced back. We captured pretty much every belt in the fucking company, and with little effort too. That’s why we’re going to be the faction of the year, and that… that’s why we’re going to win at XIII, too.’
‘I’m loving your little pep talk, really I am but… it’s pointless, Ethan. What’s the point? Why would I care about a match against UCI fodder when I’ve just lost the World. Heavyweight. Championship.’
Ethan sighs, and then slaps his partner on the shoulder.
‘I don’t know about you, but I still have some WCF Pride left in me. I’d fucking shoot myself I allowed UCI to walk into a WCF show and win on our home turf. We’re better than that, and plus… you and I both have a statement to make.’
‘And what would that be, exactly?’
‘We’re staking our claim to the top once again. We fell short, we did. But there’s no point in getting complacent now, not when we’ve already had a taste of greatness. We’re going to get back to the top of the federation, I can assure you that. We just have to work our way back into the mix. That’s what I’m planning on starting at XIII. You get me?’
Stephen ignores him, and instead opts to take a seat upon one of the leather couches. He scans the table to observe the selection of drinks on offer, and scowls. He snaps his fingers at the receptionist sitting lazily at her desk, before projecting his voice through the foyer area over toward her.
‘Get me a tea, would you?’
‘Don’t want to drown out your sorrow with some alcohol? I heard it’s an effective strategy.’
Although the tone of Ethan’s voice was clearly joking, Stephen’s glare towards him was anything but light-hearted. Ethan shook his head, frowning slightly.
‘Look, I get your pissed. Alright? I fucking get it. I am too, I just lost my one and only chance at getting a World Title match this year, and that’s eating me up. But I also know that if I don’t get back into my groove, then I won’t be getting a World Title shot – period. Is that what you want to do, Steve? Do you want to be a one hit wonder who never grabbed the big one again? Do you want to be called a fluke?’
Silence from the former World Champion.
‘Give me until ONE. I’m going to figure shit out, I’m going to come up with a plan. You’ve already got a chance at the Final Destination contract, and if I defend my title at the biggest show of the year? Then I’ll probably be in line for an opportunity too. Just let everything play out and we’ll-‘
‘Someone in need of advice on how to get a World Title? Because your boy right here has two of them.’
‘You mean you HAD two of them.’
‘Same shit, man. Don’t kill the vibe.’
Frank Patrick Venable entered the room with an obvious excitement in his step. He hadn’t known what to except upon entering The Eye of Everest, especially when considered the fact that the building itself was owned by arguably one of his biggest rivals in recent memory. However, the Grand Slam Champion knew that, for the greatest chances of success, he would need to get on the same page as the two men that were before him.
Ignoring Stephen’s comment, Ethan smiles graciously and approaches Frank. He reaches out to offer him a handshake, which Frank readily takes. The two of them had come to blows at the Revenge pay-per-view, where they put on a brutal and fiery display of both skill and savagery in a match that came down to the wire. Although they hadn’t interacted since then, there was a feeling of mutual respect that both men had come to acknowledge.
‘Hey, Frank. Appreciate you coming down here, you didn’t have to. Then again, we both know you love Chicago, right? Especially when you get to visit buildings owned by one David Sanchez.’
Frank chuckles at this comment, as he releases his grip of Ethan’s hand.
‘I’d hope you didn’t just call me here with a plot to murder me. You sure he isn’t just hiding out somewhere, waiting to knife me in the back?’
‘You both done having your nice chat? If you are, great. I have somewhere I’d much rather be right now. You should be grateful I even showed up here in the first place.’
Now sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and with tea in hand, Stephen Singh beckons for both men to come down to the seating area in the lobby. They both comply rather reluctantly. Ethan gestures towards the bottles of alcohol situated on the table in between them whilst looking at Frank, who shakes his head.
‘Alright. Strategy, who’s going first?’
‘This is simple. We’re superior to them. It’s not a contest. I’m kind of insulted you even suggest we have a meeting, if I’m being honest.’
‘Don’t underestimate them man. Bonnie and Richards are solid as fuck, and L Verez seems like a wildcard. Upsets can always happen.’
‘I’m with Frank on this one. Sure, we’re better than them individually. But they’re a strong unit, and we don’t exactly have an impeccable scouting report on them.’
‘I can spot their weakness from a mile away, can’t you? We have a huge advantage in one area that will make the rest of the match a cakewalk.’
‘And what’s that, exactly?’
Ethan glances over at Stephen, feeling as though he understands what he is getting at. With a smile, he speaks.
‘You’re talking about size and style, aren’t you?’
Stephen gives a small nod, while understanding begins to dawn over the face of FPV.
‘I see what you’re getting at.’
‘If we match-up one on one against each opponent in a particular way, we’ll virtually be assuring our victory. Put me up against Bonnie, for instance. She’s far smaller, and yet we still have a relatively similar amount of agility, even though I have far more strength, reach and leverage to work with. If we’re going by her WAR performance? There’s little to no doubt that I’ll overmatch her, especially when considering she’s always proven to be an underwhelming choke artist when it comes to any event associated with the WCF.’
He then glances towards FPV.
‘Then we’ve got you, Frank… we put you up against L Verez. Once again, you’ve got a large height advantage, and the experience gap can almost be considered insurmountable. One of the most dangerous strikers in the world with solid technical skill… against someone who in comparison to you is entirely inexperienced in the ring, with decent technical ability, but little else except flash and no substance. This is what you call a mismatch. If you and I cut these two down and limit their potentially fast-paced offense? Then we basically secure our victory.’
Now he turns his attention towards Stephen Singh.
‘Steve, you’ve probably already worked it out, but all you’ve got to do is avoid high-impact moves from Richards. He’s a dangerous competitor, no doubt… but you’re far too good of a technical wrestler to get caught by any of his moves – they take far too long to set up. All you have to do is not get complacent. Keep frustrating him with reversals, chop away at his legs to the point he can hardly stand.
‘If we all take advantage of our natural physical advantages, and then just work in this outline of a game-plan… our victory is assured. Think about it this way, we go about the match with this type of attack, and we leave them with no room to execute any sort of team attacks. The only way we’ll find ourselves in trouble during this match is if we allow them to gain momentum and start letting their team work overwhelm us. But if we cut each of them down bit by bit? They stand no chance.’
FPV nods, both lips pursed together.
‘Sounds good enough to me. But these are all just theories, you never know what can go down once we actually step into that chamber.’
‘Chamber or not, we’re finishing this quick. I don’t have time to waste dealing with nobodies.’
‘You might want to pay them at least a little bit of respect. Two out of the three of them have become World Champion before, you know?’
‘If that was here, in the WCF – you know, the actual place that matters when it comes to wrestling – I might have been mildly impressed. Emphasis on the word might.’
Frank looks towards Ethan incredulously.
‘Well he’s a joy to be around, isn’t he? I wonder how the three of you managed to survive being stuck in this tower with one another day in and day out.’
‘Well Frank, you can’t deny talent. But the key thing to remember is that went talent works together? They become exponentially stronger. That’s why were brought you in here, that’s why we’re discussing how we’re going to win this match. This isn’t just about some win. This is about putting on a show at XIII, and it’s about giving UCI a taste of what they’re going to get in the Hellimination match.’
‘I feel you on that.’
With an abrupt clap of his hands, Stephen Singh rises to his feet, a forced smile spread thinly over his lips.
‘Well, seems like we've got it all sorted, right? I’d say I could’ve figured this all out on my own, but that’d be rude. Anyway, I’ll see the two of you at XIII. Don’t drag me down.’
Without even looking back at the two of them, Stephen finishes his cup of tea and sets it down on the table. He then exits The Eye of Everest, walking out onto the streets of Chicago. FPV shoots Ethan a look, who shrugs.
‘He’ll be on his game for the match. I doubt he’ll let what happened at WAR slide for long.’
‘I hope so.’
Frank then surveys the surrounding facility once more, before promptly standing up.
‘I’d best be off too, man. I hate to say it, but this place is kind of giving me the creeps. I guess that’s what happens when you let a guy who calls himself ‘The Hollow King’ design a building from the ground up.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
Before leaving, Frank shakes Ethan’s hand once more, the two men nodding towards one another; as the former leaves, the latter makes his way up to his own personal quarters, followed by a lone cameraman. Upon reaching his quarters, he paces over towards the window and turns around, a smile ever-present over his young face.
‘The pleasantries are over people. The just before? That was just some light skirmishing. That was me walking into the first round and only hitting all three of you with some quick jabs. Sure, they don’t cause much damage, but you know what they do manage to do? They get you worried. With each one that lands, you start to realize that you’re out of your depth. That you’re fundamentally weak in comparison to me, and that mentally? You don’t stand a fucking chance.
‘We’re living in an odd World, people. We’re in a World where UCI seem to think they stand any sort of chance at defeating the WCF at their own game. Have you not yet realized that you’re all flying the banner of WCF-Lite, with a small hint of originality injected in by the self-proclaimed ‘Antidote’? Each of you are blinded and ignorant, unaware of each and every objective fact that prove that you’re inferior. Let me point out to you where you all fall severely short of the mark.
‘First of all, you all seem to grow excited by the mere fact that some of your best (see: Kevin Bishop, Bonnie Blue, Shadowlove) managed to make it to the final ten in the biggest match of the WCF Calendar Year. If we’re going by that logic, shouldn’t you all be fucking ashamed? Dustin Beaver, a guy who couldn’t even touch the upper-card in the WCF, managed to win your Infinity match, the cheap knock off of the WAR match with featured UCI’s ‘cream of the crop’.
‘Are we being legitimate right now, or are you all just here to have a good time? I’m beginning to think the latter, because this shit is already starting to get out of hand. At XIII, I’m going to be stepping into the ring with three of the Guardians, which is basically a stable that over the last what… eighteen months… has been filled with WCF dropouts, failures, or a mixture of both.
‘Jay Omega won WAR and then bounced after realizing he couldn’t cut it being the World Champ. Andre Holmes was done competing in the upper-midcard, which made him leave to the UCI where he could actually be touted as someone in the main-event. Alex Richards was literally only ever known for being the Internet Champion, and struggled to make his awkward and artificial relationship with Pantheon ever stick, and Bonnie Blue turned out to be a general, all-round failure who could never really come away with a big win that ever mattered for more than a month. In fact, you could argue that her only real meaningful win would be the one against David Sanchez, and even then she completely failed to capitalize on any momentum she may have gained from that single win. The only person who hasn’t yet competed in a WCF ring would be L Verez, can I go ahead and assume that she’s about as underwhelming as the rest of your faction – including both previous and current members? I think I’d be right in doing so, considering she hasn’t even managed to do something in UCI alone.
‘Now, let’s take a step back for a moment, and analyze everything I’ve just said. If you look at it all, you’ll notice that for the most part… the people who FAIL to cut it in the main-event scene at WCF… somehow manage to be at the forefront of everything happening in UCI. How? How can something like that happen? How can a group of people be mediocre in one company, but excel heavily in another place altogether? It’s simple.
‘UCI simply doesn’t have a talent level that can compete with the best of the best in the WCF. This isn’t here say, this isn’t me being disrespectful. This is me being straight up. So what makes any of you three that I’ll be facing at XIII think you stand a chance against me, or either of my partners for that matter?
‘We’re three of the best WCF has seen in recent years. FPV is a certified Grand Slam Champion. Stephen Singh has thus far had a career that has been filled with excellence and accolades, all of which have been topped off with a win at Ultimate Showdown. And me? I’ve broken the mold. I’ve hit main-event, superstar level without even being given a legitimate World Title shot. While Bonnie and Alex were desperate to get attention from the crowd, never getting anything except a cheap face pop every now and again, I’ve been on my grind week in and week out, beating the best offered to me, winning every championship match I’ve been in, proving TIME and TIME again why I am simply the ‘next man up’ when it comes to the World Heavyweight Championship.
‘Meanwhile, I’m going to be competing against ‘L Verez’. Tell me, what gave you the motivation to come to the WCF for a one-off showing. Exposure? The chance to face an infinitely more talented athlete in myself? Well you’ve come to the right place, my friend. If I’m being honest, you are of little interest to me. You have a typical gimmick of a ‘Guardian’ in the UCI, but you bring little of your own work to the table. You’re the generic ‘motivated’ type, you say you have fire in your belly, but for what? To defend the galaxy? Or to achieve greatness in the ring?
‘You don’t have enough work ethic and dedication toward wrestling to ever come near my ability. I have spent the better part of my college life striving for one thing, and one thing only – to be the best. You on the other hand? You’re fine with playing third fiddle on a team filled with equally uninspiring people, people who have already reached the top of the SECOND highest peak in the wrestling world – that being UCI – while failing miserably in conquering THE highest peak in the wrestling world. The character of people is often spoken about in regards to the company people keep, and we can see your character simply by your selection of people to follow into the footsteps of. Bonnie and Alex? They’re small fry in the larger scheme of things. Sure, they’ve reached the top of a second-rate organization, but do they show any of the blood, sweat and tears that all of WCF’s World Champions (except Jay Omega) have shown proudly? Do they really have the iron will, guts and determination that will allow them to surpass my ability?
‘You’re a fool if you think so. At the moment? You’re ignorant, L Verez. You feel safe and happy in the knowledge that you’re competing in a place where the danger is minimal. But I will show you the light. I will show you what it means to be a true champion.
‘Speaking of champions… hello Mr. Richards. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, although I feel as though you won’t be saying the same after my team is done smacking you around the nightmare chamber for a good fifteen minutes.
‘You’ve never impressed me, Alex. Whether it be your underwhelming run in the WCF, or even your time spent in the UCI. You’re lacking the X Factor that will ever make you a coveted member of a wrestling roster. You limit yourself, hiding your potential away by sticking with a group of people who are usually more talented than you are by comparison. Look at Pantheon, you were a lackey that could never get out of the Internet Division, and even when you were given the chance to break free? You didn’t take it, you never did, you were too scared to ever dare try something out of your comfort zone.
‘Then came The Guardians. Your chance to become a sensation, and you came close! I commend you for actually trying this time. You won the World Title. Sure, you beat Howard Black who… oh my! Couldn’t win the big one in WCF, and ended up winning it in UCI instead! Are we starting to see a pattern here? Anyway, you win the World Title, and you carry it for a bit, and then you drop it… and then… and then… you’re never seen with it again.
‘What’s the matter, Alex? Struggling to find your groove? Sure, you’ve got a solid record, but you’re once again stuck in a void where nothing you can ever matter to the people at the top of the card. You’re supposedly a mainstay of UCI, but where’s the evidence? You simply don’t have the mentality of a real, true, thoroughbred champion. You’re a happy-go-lucky guy, a fucking parody of people who actually live wrestling. You get your small amount of your success, you become content, and then you become a complacent little shit without any shred of dignity.
‘You’ll be wishing you worked harder when you step into the ring with me at XIII. I didn’t take kindly to your federation barging down at the gate of the WCF… and you saw what I did in that match. I went toe to toe with the best you had to offer. I outlasted Kevin Bishop and Bonnie Blue – even though I had been the FIRST man to enter that match. I took every shot Andre Holmes could give me, and I came back and eliminated him when he was at his very fucking best. And now, Alex? I’m about to do the same to you. I’m about to look in the eyes of one of UCI’s finest…and laugh as I cut him down to size before finishing him off for good.
‘And that would leave only one left… Bonnie Blue. Yes, arguably the second biggest choke artist behind David Sanchez. Similar to most of your faction, you couldn’t quite achieve what you wanted to in the WCF, so you up and left to UCI. And what do you know? You actually managed to do something over there! I’m proud of you Bonnie, I’m impressed that you somehow had the immense willpower to survive through the constant failure and belittling you received during your time here in the WCF. But honestly, can we say you didn’t deserve it? You would consistently pick a fight with someone far better than you (see: John Rabid) and then act surprised when they either…
‘A): Beat you down miserably, or…
‘B): Didn’t care about fighting you at all.
‘Hell, even Jay Omega, someone you’ve known for a while now, couldn’t even give a fuck about your existence. You’re a subpar performer who has somehow managed to weasel her way into a World Championship reign… except it came in the wrong place. It’s unfortunate you didn’t manage to do the same to you here, because if you did? I would’ve torn down the walls around you and given you a lesson, I would’ve taught you about the missteps you’ve taken in your career, and how you actually could mean something if you just gave yourself the chance.
‘You cry about being discredited by other people, you cry about the opinion other people have on you, and you allow yourself and your voice to become drowned out by those that encompass you. It’s fucking pathetic. Instead of showing your will, instead of rising above the adversity like many people have done before you, you’d rather SUCCUMB to it and allow it to bring you down.
‘I’ve got you fucking shook, Bonnie. I know I do. You didn’t even have the guts to address me during your little tirade at WAR. You tackled most of the other people in the match, even some of the supposed ‘heavy hitters’. But me? Nope, you shied away from that challenge. You knew what was coming to you if you even dared step in my direction. And you were fucking right.
‘You take the risk of stepping toward a King? And only one of two things can happen.
‘I’ll either smile graciously, and allow you to live to fight another day… or I put you out of your fucking misery and execute you right where you stand.
‘I’m giving you a chance, Bonnie. I’m giving you a chance to look at every mistake you’ve made during your time here in the WCF, and I’m allowing you the opportunity to redeem yourself. But will you take it? No, you won’t. Because you have a predisposition, a fear that tells you that you can’t do it, a mentality that makes you weak and feeble before my feet… one that I will capitalize on in the fullest, because unlike you? I make the most of my opportunities.
‘Just remember that, when I leave you broken beneath my feet, succumbing once again to the nightmares that brew in your mind and cause you to become weak at the knees. It’s sad, Bonnie. At first, I was rather excited for this match-up, I was excited to be coming up against some new competition that could perhaps provide me with a challenge… but then I looked at the cold, hard facts.
‘Instead of a challenging back and forth battle, this is what we have. We have a throwaway match at XIII where I will have to embarrass The Guardians and leave little to no doubt as to who will be walking away the victor at Hellimination when the WCF and the UCI gather their best to discover who really is the superior between the two organizations.
‘To all of you in the Guardians, and all those die-hard UCI fans watching right now, I want you to know something.
‘This massacre that’s about to occur by my hand? It’s only a fucking preview of what’s to come.’
Ethan smiles towards the camera, dropping both the scowl and furrowed brows that made his features age well beyond his years even at the young age of twenty-two.
‘And now, if you all don’t mind – I have business to attend to.’
With a graceful turn, Ethan begins to walk with his back to the camera, and within a few moments has disappeared out of sight completely behind two closing elevator doors. Intrigued by his last words, the cameraman begins to hurriedly pace up the stairs, causing the piece of film to turn into a blurry mess of frantic shaking as he attempts to catch up to Ethan. After ascending a few flights of stairs, he can be heard breathing deeply, but otherwise remains silent, pointing the recording device slyly from around the corner of the wall next to the staircase.
To no surprise, The Future King is revealed to be standing in front of a door… a door leading into the personal quarters of one David Sanchez. Ethan punches in what appears to be a PIN code, causing the door to unlock which then allows him to push it open with the palm of his hand. He steps inside, ignoring the lavishly decorated room in favour of a different course of action. In a manner that can only be described as rushed, Ethan begins to scour through the numerous drawers that belong in the quarters. He opens one after another, and unleashes a frustrated sigh as he cannot find what he seems to be looking for.
That is, until he finds the same manilla folder that The Mayor of Chicago had shown him seven months ago, when Everest had first come into reality and had begun the path of domination that had only now just begun to fade into obscurity. Marked on the folder were two words.
OPERATION EVEREST
His memory of the document had been shoddy, he had only been given a brief moment to look at it, before David had whisked it away – something about the details inside being “far too important to all be revealed at once.”
He had never understood what Sanchez had meant by that. And now? He wanted to find out.
A minute went by, and even just skimming through the folder was enough for Ethan’s stomach to begin to churn, as his lips began to curve down into a deep frown. Not wanting to waste a moment, he whisked the folder away into the inside of his suit jacket, hiding it away from any employees who may see him leaving from Sanchez’s quarters.
While walking out of the office of sorts, Ethan reaches down into his pocket, pulling his phone out. A quick scan through the Everest archives the day prior to his investigation of David’s office allowed him to find the contact details to this man, a man he felt he would need to get in contact with if his gut feeling about “Operation Everest” turned out to be correct.
He hits the call button, and brings the phone up to his right ear, still keeping the folder hidden close at his side.
‘John, you there?’
Through the phone, although it is difficult to hear, the voice of the reigning WCF World Heavyweight can be heard.
‘I shall assume you’ve found what you were looking for?’
Although the man on the other end of the phone cannot see him, he nods emphatically, a grim look coming over him.
‘You’re fucking right I have.’
‘And how serious is the issue?’
Ethan glances back into the office, and even from his view from outside the room, he can still see the beautiful hue of blue that the sky of midday conveys. He braces himself, knowing that once he has made this commitment, he simply cannot go back. Ever.
‘We need to destroy The Eye of Everest.’