Post by CD's Old Account on Sept 16, 2012 11:05:48 GMT -5
The scene opens to backstage at the GEW Arena. In a locker room, Corey Black walks in. It's like 10am, the show doesn't start for a while, but Corey is here early. Maybe for a press junket, maybe just to prepare himself for the carnage that is sure to take place later on. Corey's got a black hoodie on, it's 60 degrees outside. Camo pants and red Chuck Taylors complete Corey's ensemble for the day. Inside the locker room, Corey puts his bag containing his gear down and looks around. It's not the best locker room in the history of the world, but it'll do. Luxury doesn't matter right now. It's a fucking battleground. Corey Black verses Oblivion main events Shoot to Thrill tonight. Sitting on steel folding chairs or getting a massage before the match, it doesn't matter, when it begins, chaos will ensue.
After taking in the 'scenery' Corey takes off down the hallway, checking out this fabled GEW Arena. It's pretty run down. Not to the point where it's condemned, but there's cracks in the walls and random puddles of water. Maybe Corey is just in a bad section? Unlikely. The man running this show wouldn't do anything of the sort. Corey's in good hands. As he walks down the hall, he comes across a bit of an opening, where Lucien Hicks is taping a pre-show rundown of the matches on the card. He gets to Corey's match, and Corey walks into the frame much to Lucien's surprise. He offers the mic, and Corey takes it.
Corey Black
The main event. What does it mean to me? A lot. This week the roster heads to New Orleans for some GEW action. Things like this hold dear to me, as I am the creator of XIII, a show where I can use anyone on the WCF payroll. Same situation here. That being said, I can say in full confidence that I will be the first person to main event One, XIII, and a GEW show. That's a privilege in itself. As if I wasn't already the most accomplished wrestler WCF has ever come across.
Now, I'll be the first to admit it's kind of a raw deal for the current members of WCF. How can a guy like me just waltz in ande handed all these awesome matches? It's simple. I'm that good. My name alone will sell out arenas across the world. I'm not being cocky, either, that is pure fact. People pay to see me mess people up. Adam Young, Doc Henry, Synn, Odin Balfore, the list goes on and on. People like, say, Waylon Cash, they're clearly upset that I am consistently in a higher place on the card than they are. People like Waylon have a point, in a sense. Men like that fight tooth and nail to climb the card every single week, but when they get to the top, they're faced with Pantheon. One way or another, no matter which one of us is in the way, they'll never get to the top. We, as a unit, are the most destructive force WCF has seen. Take the destructive team of myself and Jonny Fly. With the greatest of ease, we made the WCF Tag Champions... THE TAG CHAMPIONS... look like a bunch of goddamn jobbers. Pantheon is the best of the best, and there's no disputing it. Anyone outside the group is either jealous or in denial.
Which, naturally, leads me to the Church of Dark Saints. A rag-tag bunch of emo kids such as Nathan Von Liebert. Zombie McMorris, Famine of the Vile, Andrew Warhawk and the final boss himself, Oblivion. What's the point of them being together? I'm not sure. Maybe they make scented candles and listen to My Chemical Romance every Wednesday night at 8pm in NVL's mom's basement? I'm never one to judge others, but come on now. There's absolutely no reason for those men to be on a team. Pantheon formed because we're the best, and I want to help these men take the top spots they deserve.
But then, you have Oblivion himself. Dark imagery, violent matches. Bitche-e-e-esssss. Fuckin' please. This is nothing more than a four year old boy in the body of a man with a stutter. I've seen this guy from Ace Slaughter to Oblivion to World Champion, all without having more than three matches with me. I can only remember two tag matches, really. I am about eighty percent sure this is our first match one-on-one with each other, and frankly, it's a long time coming. How in the hell does Seth look over putting two of his most violent wrestlers in the same match for nearly three years? it's fucking ridiculous. No matter though, I have no doubt the GEW Arena will be painted red with the blood of the combatants. Mostly Oblivion. We've been here a total of thirteen years, Oblivion and I. It gets less impressive when you realize ten of those are from me, but nevertheless, he knows who he is getting into the ring with. The best fucking wrestler this place has ever come across. And yet, he's still confident. He thinks he's going to waltz in, do some crazy flips and walk out of the GEW Arena as winner.
Yeah, well, no. I don't wrestle outside IWF to lose to people. I accept matches with people that need to get their asses kicked. The aforementioned Synn and Doc Henry, for example. Adam Young is a prime piece. But Oblivion? Where does he sit on my radar other than being leader of a rival stable?
Pride. It's all about pride. We're former World Champions, man. I've never beat this cat one on one. It's a feather in my cap. Another big name I can add to the list of people I have put down for the three count. He's nuts to think he even has a little bit of a chance here. He's nuts anyway, but he should be institutionalized for sure now. A big six foot five inch, three hundred pound dipshit, this guy. He probably doesn't even listen to Slayer. That's the fucked up part about all this. He wears the shirt, but his friends like Green Day. Barf. I digress, this guy Oblivion thinks he's the biggest, baddest son of a bitch to ever lace up the boots because he has an imaginary friend he calls 'God.' Bitch, please. In what altered state of mind does this guy consistently have to be in? I'm realistic. I watched my buddy, who was dressed as Terry Robertsynn, get a handjob from Kate Winslet while King Diamond taped it. Do you know how messed up that is? Not even half as messed up as talking to something that isn't even real. I've had some messed up shit happen to me.. I'm pretty sure I'm being stalked by a ghost.. but even that is more believable.
It's going to come down to one thing, Oblivion. Who is better in that ring? Me. I'm faster. I'm more experienced. I haven't done the hardcore thing for a while, but be damned sure I remember how to swing a chair. If you think your friends can come down and mess me up, fine. I've got broskis too. This will be a contest of who is best, me or you. And you just can't get the job done. Nobody in WCF can beat me. Not you, not the tag champs, not the Texas Champ, not a stupid hillbilly, not even Sarah Twilogan. You're the next example of my dominance, Oblivion. Saddle up, strap in, and pray to whatever you talk to, because "IT" is going down by my hand tonight.
Corey hands the mic back to Lucien, who waves his hand across his neck to signal for the cameraman to stop recording. Corey walks off without saying much of anything to Lucien, a bit uncharacteristic but this is pretty serious business. The first show outside of XIII where people come together and put on something just for the fans. It's an honor and a privilege to be a part of this. Corey knows that. He's not going to take any chances until the match begins. It's then, when the devil herself walks into the arena. Corey had walked back toward his locker room, when the outside door opened up, the sun shining into the corridor and she was standing there. Nikki Venus.
As the story goes, Nikki and Corey have a somewhat ridiculous relationship. It's on, it's off, Corey stays with her during the week to save on travel costs into New York for IWF, but a few weeks ago he caught her with Joey Flynn, his own student. Why in the hell is she even here in New Orleans? Corey didn't care to find out. He simply turned and went into his locker room, closing the door behind himself. Not even a knock. Nothing. Corey sits down on a chair and opens his phone, probably to play a game. She just walks in. He tried to shut her out, but here she is. It's a metaphor, man.
Corey drops his phone and stands up. He turns to yell directly in her face but it's not Nikki. Standing face to face with Corey Black is himself.
Creeping Death.
It's like a wicked mirror match. The crazy part is.. this isn't the first time this has happened! The man standing before Corey isn't Jake Jeckel of IWF fame, though. He's seen that, this isn't anything of the sorts. This is Corey Black staring at himself, or what he thinks is himself. Creeping Death attacks Corey, throws him over a table and into a wall. CD slides under the table while Corey jumps on top, and CD sweeps the legs, sending Corey hard into the table itself. Creeping Death joins Corey on the table and lifts him to his feet, before hooking his arms and lifting Corey high. Creeping Death comes crashing through the table, delivering For Whom the Bell Tolls to Corey. CD leaves the room, leaving Corey Black laying in the rubble that was once a sturdy table, just leaves without saying a word. No emotion, nothing. What the fuck? Scene fades out.
After taking in the 'scenery' Corey takes off down the hallway, checking out this fabled GEW Arena. It's pretty run down. Not to the point where it's condemned, but there's cracks in the walls and random puddles of water. Maybe Corey is just in a bad section? Unlikely. The man running this show wouldn't do anything of the sort. Corey's in good hands. As he walks down the hall, he comes across a bit of an opening, where Lucien Hicks is taping a pre-show rundown of the matches on the card. He gets to Corey's match, and Corey walks into the frame much to Lucien's surprise. He offers the mic, and Corey takes it.
Corey Black
The main event. What does it mean to me? A lot. This week the roster heads to New Orleans for some GEW action. Things like this hold dear to me, as I am the creator of XIII, a show where I can use anyone on the WCF payroll. Same situation here. That being said, I can say in full confidence that I will be the first person to main event One, XIII, and a GEW show. That's a privilege in itself. As if I wasn't already the most accomplished wrestler WCF has ever come across.
Now, I'll be the first to admit it's kind of a raw deal for the current members of WCF. How can a guy like me just waltz in ande handed all these awesome matches? It's simple. I'm that good. My name alone will sell out arenas across the world. I'm not being cocky, either, that is pure fact. People pay to see me mess people up. Adam Young, Doc Henry, Synn, Odin Balfore, the list goes on and on. People like, say, Waylon Cash, they're clearly upset that I am consistently in a higher place on the card than they are. People like Waylon have a point, in a sense. Men like that fight tooth and nail to climb the card every single week, but when they get to the top, they're faced with Pantheon. One way or another, no matter which one of us is in the way, they'll never get to the top. We, as a unit, are the most destructive force WCF has seen. Take the destructive team of myself and Jonny Fly. With the greatest of ease, we made the WCF Tag Champions... THE TAG CHAMPIONS... look like a bunch of goddamn jobbers. Pantheon is the best of the best, and there's no disputing it. Anyone outside the group is either jealous or in denial.
Which, naturally, leads me to the Church of Dark Saints. A rag-tag bunch of emo kids such as Nathan Von Liebert. Zombie McMorris, Famine of the Vile, Andrew Warhawk and the final boss himself, Oblivion. What's the point of them being together? I'm not sure. Maybe they make scented candles and listen to My Chemical Romance every Wednesday night at 8pm in NVL's mom's basement? I'm never one to judge others, but come on now. There's absolutely no reason for those men to be on a team. Pantheon formed because we're the best, and I want to help these men take the top spots they deserve.
But then, you have Oblivion himself. Dark imagery, violent matches. Bitche-e-e-esssss. Fuckin' please. This is nothing more than a four year old boy in the body of a man with a stutter. I've seen this guy from Ace Slaughter to Oblivion to World Champion, all without having more than three matches with me. I can only remember two tag matches, really. I am about eighty percent sure this is our first match one-on-one with each other, and frankly, it's a long time coming. How in the hell does Seth look over putting two of his most violent wrestlers in the same match for nearly three years? it's fucking ridiculous. No matter though, I have no doubt the GEW Arena will be painted red with the blood of the combatants. Mostly Oblivion. We've been here a total of thirteen years, Oblivion and I. It gets less impressive when you realize ten of those are from me, but nevertheless, he knows who he is getting into the ring with. The best fucking wrestler this place has ever come across. And yet, he's still confident. He thinks he's going to waltz in, do some crazy flips and walk out of the GEW Arena as winner.
Yeah, well, no. I don't wrestle outside IWF to lose to people. I accept matches with people that need to get their asses kicked. The aforementioned Synn and Doc Henry, for example. Adam Young is a prime piece. But Oblivion? Where does he sit on my radar other than being leader of a rival stable?
Pride. It's all about pride. We're former World Champions, man. I've never beat this cat one on one. It's a feather in my cap. Another big name I can add to the list of people I have put down for the three count. He's nuts to think he even has a little bit of a chance here. He's nuts anyway, but he should be institutionalized for sure now. A big six foot five inch, three hundred pound dipshit, this guy. He probably doesn't even listen to Slayer. That's the fucked up part about all this. He wears the shirt, but his friends like Green Day. Barf. I digress, this guy Oblivion thinks he's the biggest, baddest son of a bitch to ever lace up the boots because he has an imaginary friend he calls 'God.' Bitch, please. In what altered state of mind does this guy consistently have to be in? I'm realistic. I watched my buddy, who was dressed as Terry Robertsynn, get a handjob from Kate Winslet while King Diamond taped it. Do you know how messed up that is? Not even half as messed up as talking to something that isn't even real. I've had some messed up shit happen to me.. I'm pretty sure I'm being stalked by a ghost.. but even that is more believable.
It's going to come down to one thing, Oblivion. Who is better in that ring? Me. I'm faster. I'm more experienced. I haven't done the hardcore thing for a while, but be damned sure I remember how to swing a chair. If you think your friends can come down and mess me up, fine. I've got broskis too. This will be a contest of who is best, me or you. And you just can't get the job done. Nobody in WCF can beat me. Not you, not the tag champs, not the Texas Champ, not a stupid hillbilly, not even Sarah Twilogan. You're the next example of my dominance, Oblivion. Saddle up, strap in, and pray to whatever you talk to, because "IT" is going down by my hand tonight.
Corey hands the mic back to Lucien, who waves his hand across his neck to signal for the cameraman to stop recording. Corey walks off without saying much of anything to Lucien, a bit uncharacteristic but this is pretty serious business. The first show outside of XIII where people come together and put on something just for the fans. It's an honor and a privilege to be a part of this. Corey knows that. He's not going to take any chances until the match begins. It's then, when the devil herself walks into the arena. Corey had walked back toward his locker room, when the outside door opened up, the sun shining into the corridor and she was standing there. Nikki Venus.
As the story goes, Nikki and Corey have a somewhat ridiculous relationship. It's on, it's off, Corey stays with her during the week to save on travel costs into New York for IWF, but a few weeks ago he caught her with Joey Flynn, his own student. Why in the hell is she even here in New Orleans? Corey didn't care to find out. He simply turned and went into his locker room, closing the door behind himself. Not even a knock. Nothing. Corey sits down on a chair and opens his phone, probably to play a game. She just walks in. He tried to shut her out, but here she is. It's a metaphor, man.
Corey drops his phone and stands up. He turns to yell directly in her face but it's not Nikki. Standing face to face with Corey Black is himself.
Creeping Death.
It's like a wicked mirror match. The crazy part is.. this isn't the first time this has happened! The man standing before Corey isn't Jake Jeckel of IWF fame, though. He's seen that, this isn't anything of the sorts. This is Corey Black staring at himself, or what he thinks is himself. Creeping Death attacks Corey, throws him over a table and into a wall. CD slides under the table while Corey jumps on top, and CD sweeps the legs, sending Corey hard into the table itself. Creeping Death joins Corey on the table and lifts him to his feet, before hooking his arms and lifting Corey high. Creeping Death comes crashing through the table, delivering For Whom the Bell Tolls to Corey. CD leaves the room, leaving Corey Black laying in the rubble that was once a sturdy table, just leaves without saying a word. No emotion, nothing. What the fuck? Scene fades out.
