Across the Rainbow Bridge

[Corey Black]

Without a care in the world, Corey Bl- excuse me, Creeping Death, used to drop opponents on their skull and end their careers. Odin Balfore, the one man to even come close to doing that to CD, has made it his personal goal to seemingly one-up Corey Black in every way possible. Corey has changed, though. Ever since Odin did that to him, no matter where he is, Corey only strives for competition. Win or lose. If a good match was had, Corey will get better, and he can transfer the knowledge to his students.

One, though, is a whole other monster. This is Corey's shot to legit cement his place in WCF. Most all the other Hall of Fame wrestlers have had their time in the spotlight at One except Corey. He wishes to change that. And he has to go to a very dark place to do it...

The scene opens, not with a massage or anything even close to the like. A grassy green meadow. Typical stuff happening around it, grass on the ground, trees forming an outline of the horizon, a soft breeze rustling the leaves and grass. That soft breeze turns into a bit of a brisk wind, and that turns into a blustery breeze. Clouds form overhead at the drop of a hat, turning day into night as it usually does. Rain begins falling from the heavens, pittering on the camera. Lightning crashes all about, thunder bouncing off every surface of the meadow.. and a bell tower comes to be seen right in front of the camera.

The camera zooms up to the giant wooden door, which hinges at the top and swings inward, opening itself up to the wonders inside. A stone spiral staircase circles the outer wall, leading up to the bell itself. That's the normal route taken in this hellish structure. This time, though, Corey Black is coming down the stairs toward the camera. He stops on the bottom step, and places his hand against a bloody handprint on the wall. The floor slides to the middle, revealing more stairs down below the bell tower. Corey takes the second, secret stairs down into the ground. For as many years as this bell tower has been the setting, not once has this been shown. The camera soon follows, and what is seen... fuck. A tunnel system, with light provided by dozens of torches. Heading down to the end of the tunnel, Corey Black is just entering the room. It is fairly tall, kinda wide, and made of stone. Torches don't light this room, colored lights shine all around, obviously there's electricity coming from somewhere. In the middle of the room is a tattered and torn up pro wrestling ring. Everything on it is black, and a spotlight shines down from the roof to light it up. Corey is off to the side, but he slides into the ring and stands in the middle of it, obviously with the light shining down on him. Soon the light starts changing colors, and eventually displays an array into the ring. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue.. you get the point.

Corey Black
Real cute, Odin. Trying to get under my skin by using my family. Breaking into an unidentified house in an unidentified town in an unidentified state.. yeah, good try. I mean, kudos on breaking into a house. You'd think a giant oaf like you would have at least stepped on a creaky floor. And talking the entire time about a whole lot of nothing? Gee golly willickers, you're the man of a thousand talents!

Only problem is... everyone knows I don't have family. See, Odin, that's your one downfall. You think you know exactly who you are going up against, yet you couldn't be further from the point. Corey Broken, multiple personalities, blah blah, all of that is consequential. I'm clearly a hell of a lot more than that. The five year old niece I spoke about? Similie. I know you're awesome with your metaphors about China and raccoons, but you can't pick up on a bit of sarcasm? Right-oh then. My family is long gone, man. Long long long gone. I'm over it, doesn't bother me so much anymore. I guarantee the next time you're on WCF TV you'll be at my mom's grave site, dry humping the ground she lays under, right? Cool, whatever floats your boat.

So whatever family that actually was that you terrorized is probably speaking to the police right now. And the fact that you let it be broadcast to the entire world wasn't exactly your smartest move. ..and how do you know Chris Hansen? Ah, fuck, I get it. You used your extensive wealth to pay people to pretend to be my family.

Alright, I don't care about any of that. You're only trying to get into my head, and you're failing miserably. You're scared, Balfore. I've seen this once before, where a man went on and on throughout the week leading up to our match. You just couldn't shut this son of a bitch up with the almighty duct tape. Promo after promo, constantly berating me and attempting to throw me off my game. Dude went by the name 'Skyler Striker.' We faced off at XIII in the Nightmare Chamber. I had him EXACTLY where I wanted him, pretty much where I have you. The only difference is, he wasn't quite as... magical? Or full of shit, I guess we could call it. The furthest he went was speaking to his genius toddler daughter. You're over here committing crimes and being a wizard. I live in the fucking real world, Odin. Your games about time travel and Atlantis are pathetic and tiresome. You might pull the wool over the eyes of the less fortunate, but you're not fooling me. So pay off the actors you hired to pull off your silly promos, stand in front of the green screen you used to be underwater, and listen the fuck up. I'm going to kill you at One, Odin. Before, all that mattered was pinning your shoulders to the mat for the count of three. Now? Well, now you've just made a mockery of this entire place, and that, my friend, will be the last mistake you make here. Go off and pretend like you know what you're doing by poking this sleeping dragon, I dare you big man. I clobbered the former love of my life with a fucking lead pipe because she hit me while opening a door. What will I do to you?

You run your mouth like you've been here longer than me. Let's do a little basic math, everyone loves that, right? Take the time you've been here and multiply that by twenty. What do you get? The exact amount of time I have put into WCF. See, Balfore, I don't just get handed pay-per-views. Again, a guy that knows so much about me and my family surely would know that I earned the right to hold an event every Friday the thirteenth. You better hope we settle this at One, because if it happens to carry over to XIII, you're in for a world of trouble. I make the rules there, man. Me. It's my playground to make people suffer or make people famous. It's not a pat on the ass by WCF management, it's a serious event where people die. A person has died because I was allowed to make the match. Are you fucking listening? You were right when you said One hasn't ever been about me, and that this will surely be a highlight of my career.. but you have to remember, even though I've never had a One main event, I've always had the eye of WCF. You look elsewhere in the business, and you see guys that only have the spotlight on them on the biggest stage of them all. After that night, they're back to being curtain jerkers. That's the complete opposite of me. I've always been the man of the year, and once it got to One, Seth would overlook me.

I've already gone over all this before, though, haven't I? I'd hate to sound like a broken record. The only thing I have to thank you for is keeping up your facade. You're the court jester to WCF's castle now, Odin. Everyone is looking at you and laughing, because you hardly make any sense in this world. Every time I show a glimmer of hope... fuckin' please. Who is the guy grasping for straws every time he has spoke? You seem confident, but the world knows you're scared. Pinning you in a WCF sanctioned inter-promotional tag match means nothing? Oh, cool, so Ryan Blake beating me should be stricken from the record? Uhm no, doofus, INTER-PROMOTIONAL means just that. WCF latched on to the project, any and all decisions there impact WCF as a whole. Jesus Christ, why didn't your all knowing furry buddy tell you that one? For all the drunken, annoying tirades you pull off, mocking me every other minute, it only shows your glaring flaw. You're big, you're strong, you're tough... but you're an idiot.

I don't think I can compete with you at One, I know I can. Will One be my last stand? Maybe. It truly is the last thing I have on my checklist of WCF accomplishments. People would kill for my list, yeah, but people aren't me. It's not a fantasy, it's how it is, Odin. I'm walking into the biggest match of my life, and win or lose, having my One main event. For all I care, I could win and be stripped of the title the very next second. You though, you need that belt. You might not see it, but it's true. For Odin Balfore to stay relevant, he needs the WCF World Title. Because without it, he's nothing more than an over sized drunken moron, hell bent on hurting instead of working. That's bullshit, dude. Again, you took that from me, and I'm glad. People like that, in our business? Sickening. You're a cancer, Odin. You're a butthurt nancypants because you thought you were going to face broken down Torture, and you're clearly fucked because you get to face not-so-broken-down me. I'm not scared of you, Odin. Not even in the slightest. You may as well get that out of your head while you can still function.

Yeah, I went there again. You're a piece of shit because all you want to do is maim. Well, how do you combat that? Kill or be killed. Fine by this guy. Spout off about how you're going to powerbomb me back to obscurity all you want, big man. History has shown I have no problem ending careers for fun. Yours, though, if I choose to end it, won't be just for fun. It'll be to save whoever you would have hurt in the future. Maybe that would have been Torture, or Kaylyn, or even Mandy, who knows? Who cares. It'll happen again unless I do something about it. What better platform than One? Your petty insults and 'lavishly' created nicknames be damned, I know what you're about Balfore. Have your fun, entertain yourself and your friends, have yourself a drink and a laugh at my expense. This isn't a fucking game anymore. This is two men, one clearly a lot more serious about the situation than the other, beating each other down until one just cannot continue. I'm being so goddamn serious because this means the entire world to me. You? You're off drinking and having a jolly ol' time. Fuck you, Odin. Shit isn't going to be so fun when your leg is broken into six pieces and you tap out, is it?

I don't need to do that crap you do, though. I don't need to create a silly name for you, don't need to 'break into your nieces house' and 'maybe try to rape her.' No, Odin, all I need is you alone in that ring to prove my point. You may be better than most of the WCF roster, but you're not better than me. You can't out think me, you can't out wrestle me, you can't even out catch phrase me. So I have spoken, so it shall come to pass... So let it be written... so let it be done... I'm Creeping Death, bitch. Drink to that.

Corey finishes speaking, and smiles before walking to the ropes once again. He exits his own ring, in his very own dungeon, and walks into the darkness of the tunnel once again. Every few seconds, he walks back into the glow of a torch, but soon he has vanished.