Post by CD's Old Account on Jan 16, 2014 14:59:56 GMT -5
Wednesday, Jaunary 15th 2014 - Minneapolis, Minnesota - 1pm Central Time - 29 Hours Until Show Time
Inside Corey Black's apartment, he's packing for the journey to NYC for the special Jonny Fly promoted pay-per-view match. Wrestling gear, change of clothes, bottle of Diet Coke, it's all going in the backpack. As he finishes, he puts the bag on his back and heads into his living room, where he has an entire wall of replicas of titles he has won, WCF and elsewhere. His WCF Hall of Fame plaque hangs proudly on the middle of the masterpiece. Corey has stopped to reflect on his career, looking at each piece and thinking about where he's come from, where he is now, and where he is going. In the middle of this ritual, Corey's phone rings.
Corey Black
Seth Lerch, what a coincidence, I was just checking out my accomplishments wall. To what do I owe the pleasure?
Seth Lerch
Well Corey, I know we haven't really seen eye to eye - almost ever - but I wanted to give you a call and figure out what is going on with this match tomorrow.
Corey Black
The match? What's wrong with it?
Seth Lerch
Nothing is wrong, but now that I am back in power -
Corey Black
- congrats, by the way. Try not to be a tyrant this time.
Seth Lerch
Uh, thanks, I think. Anyway, I hadn't seen your contract in a while, and it says here you are still contracted under a WCF Legends Deal, which is pretty standard for all Hall of Famers, but something confused me about this. You have this match with Caliban tomorrow, unsanctioned by WCF. Taking place in Jonny Fly's basement, broadcast on pay-per-view. I'm just not really sure how this all came together.
Corey Black
You have Caliban, who isn't contracted by WCF. If he would have wrestled in a WCF ring, you'd be liable to any injuries he sustained. He didn't get his papers in on time, a physical, all that. So Jonny decided he'd host the match himself. He's taking care of all of it, the arena, the talent fees, the vendors, all of it. This is basically free promotion for WCF, man!
Seth Lerch
Talent fees? Really?
Corey Black
Yeah, Fly is paying Caliban but he's giving his portion away to charity. I refused payment, Jordan's blood on my hands will be enough for me.
Seth Lerch
I just don't want one of my premier wrestlers to end up injured, even if you only have a few matches a year. You do have Torture's induction coming up at Payback.
Corey Black
Please, Seth. I'll be fine. Do you really think Caliban can do any real damage to me? Order the show, it's going to be fun.
Seth Lerch
Alright. Just end this tomorrow. I don't want any more funny business happening on my shows.
Corey Black
Consider it done.
The phone call ends, Corey heads out his door and locks it behind him. Down the hallway, down the stairs and out the apartment building. Across the street into the parking garage, Corey pops the trunk on his car, a black Toyota Celica with a body kit and such. Not too extravagant, not too plain, just right. Corey is heading to the airport for a flight to NYC. Before he starts his car, though, he gets a text message.
Jonny Fly
Hey dude. Booked you a pretty sweet gig for promotion. One Time Square tomorrow at 3. Rip that bitch up.
Corey smiles and starts his car, heading out of the garage. He's now en route to NYC, and en route to breaking Caliban's neck.
Thursday, January 16th 2014 - New York City - 3pm Eastern Time - 4 Hours Until Show Time
Times Square, the heart of the city and really the heart of the country. Lights from LED billboards and signs shine through the rainy atmosphere. Overcast gray skies, drizzle, but the city is still booming with tourists and businessmen heading back to work from lunch. Taxis line the streets, people all over the sidewalk, and Corey Black standing on the rooftop of One Times Square, THE landmark in the city, looking down at the hustle and bustle. He's wearing olive green cargo pants, black Chuck Taylors, and a black hoodie with the hood up - typical Corey Black wear. As he gazes down, a crowd of people begins crowding around the building he is standing on. There's a row of gigantic LED billboards just below Corey, flickering and showing the ads of the nearby stores. Soon enough, the billboards cut all together, the news ticker turns green and starts scrolling the WCF logo. Billboards light up once again, the top-most is a video feed of Corey, the ones below showing clips of Corey's greatest matches - verses Torture at One, Odin at One, all the best. The crowd below One Times Square begins going nuts, cheering on Corey. He's taken over the entire place, just as promised. He brings a microphone to his mouth, connected to many speakers down the building, talking to the now massive crowd that has gathered below him.
Corey Black
This all started with one simple jab. One little piece of nothing that happened on the internet and it has exploded into the live pay-per-view event on our hands tonight. "Says the guy dressed up like a five year old's attempt at putting on Sting's make up because he is so cool." Literally the first interaction I had with Jordan Caliban was a snarky comment. It snowballed into a massive e-war that has got the entire company and the fanbase talking. Jordan Caliban, a relative unknown here in WCF, talks shit to a legend like Corey Black and manages to piss him off just enough to warrant a fight. It's happened before, people run their mouths and think they're God's gift to professional wrestling. Men like Adam Young and Doc Henry, so full of themselves, their fingers writing checks their asses cannot cash. Caliban is grouped in with men of such "nobility" and "honor." His fate is the same as theirs, as well. If it walks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, then by God, it's going to get Burning Hammered like a fucking duck.
It's bad enough that you're this punk that thinks guys like Gravedigger and I are "old" because we have been in WCF over a decade - I might remind you that I literally JUST turned 30 - but you strung together a few losses the last time you were around. Mainly at the hands of Jon Michaels. Tag Team Elimination Match, War, Singles Match, you were pinned by Jon three times in a row. And then what happened, Jordan? You packed your bags and left. Headed to PWX, headed to APW, went to XWF, forgot all about WCF. That Internet Title you held? Threw it aside. When I say I wrestle somewhere else, I mean I am full-time there and I still come back to WCF on occasion. Take One for example. I returned and beat the unbeatable. I pinned Torture's shoulders to the mat. You wouldn't know what that means because your respect for those of us that paved the path for you is nil. Let me put it this way, Jordan. Even if I lost seventeen matches in a row to the same person, I wouldn't bitch out and go somewhere else. I have self respect, I don't want people to think I am a quitter. You, though, you're a quitter. And a bitch. And a piece of garbage.
A big thing for you was how this match was your foot back in the door, a way to try to take out one of the faces of a company you disowned in October. That's the kind of guy you are Jordan, you'd fuck your best friend's wife if he beat you at Halo. Exactly the same thing here, an attempt to fuck WCF. Problem is, you didn't agree to a match with, say, Logan. A guy that is basically a shell of what he used to be. You're going nose to nose with Corey Black, motherfucker. Still at the top of my game, still throwing jobbers around like it's the reason I was placed on this planet. You look at the names supporting me in this contest. Gravedigger, Jeff Purse, Jonny Fly, Sarah Twilight, Eric Price, Steve Orbit, Jay Price, the list goes ON AND ON AND ON. Some of that list are friends, some are enemies, all know the severity of the mauling you're no doubt going to endure. They want to see me break your neck Jordan, not because of who I am, but because of the fucker that you are. Allegiances are out the window when we step into the ring. Some big "plan" you had, turn an entire roster against you and get absolutely decimated by the most decorated man the company has ever seen.
What could possibly be the best part of this is when everything was hammered out, I agreed to fight you on WCF television - and it fell through. See, you don't have a contract with WCF. You can't just show up because I say "let's fight." If that was the case, any douchebag with a Twitter account could waltz in and eat a kick to the face. No way the insurance company would be alright with that, leaving all the bills on the shoulders of - new old WCF owner - Seth Lerch. Even though you think the WCF ring is a playground, it's a business. Paperwork needs to be completed, signed, and stamped. The general feeling is that you bitched out because you didn't want to fight me in WCF, considering you immediately turned around and said any number of your other employers would facilitate the match. You talk shit to me and expect I'm going to come to you to fight? Bitch, you come to ME. You step into MY RING, which coincidentally is in Jonny Fly's basement because he was courteous enough to put his basement and mansion on the line to house a brawl between us. That's pretty fucking neat of him, all things considered. I'm liable to literally tear his house down, using your body as a wrecking ball through the walls. You better write off the next year or so, call all your other owners and let them know you won't be back for a while, because Corey Black is on the fucking hunt, and he's going to get him a piece of your soul. Maybe ask them to front you some payment, your scrawny ass sure as hell doesn't earn enough of a paycheck to cover a lengthy stay in the emergency room, even if you wrestle for eight companies at once. You spend all your money on shitty band t-shirts and drugs. Real class act. You probably didn't get your information in because you'd certainly fail the drug test. It'll be my pleasure to put you down once and for all.
The meat of what you've been talking about is how I'm old, I'm washed up, you're faster and stronger and better, blah blah blah. I'm usually not a man to toot my own horn, but Jordan, fuck kid, do you pay attention to ANYTHING? My accomplishments are long and fruitful, a long list of the greatest wrestler to ever grace a WCF ring. You're known for being mouthy and a flippy-dippy glorified yard-tard acrobat. Nice finisher you got there, how's that going to work out for you when you eat nothing but canvas? I learned the hard way in this business. I used to go to the top rope like my life depended on it, flipping my way through the air and attempting to wow the crowd and pleasure my own sick need to inflict as much damage as possible. Then I went to Japan and learned the art of the elbow and Burning Hammer. This elbow of mine, it's the centerpiece of the most well-rounded wrestler on the roster. I'm known as a daredevil, as a technician, as a hardcore brawler, and most importantly the best striker in the business. You're known for flippy floppy crashing and burning, and a choke. Wow. This is my 'impressed' face. Your style is as mature as you are.
As if all the crap you talk on Twitter isn't enough, you've got this "Revolution Radio" business which is basically a glorified Spotify playlist of an angsty 14 year old girl, lending credit to the feeling everyone has about you having a gigantic vagina. As if your "Hot Topic Chic" wasn't enough of an indication. All you're missing is eyeliner and fingernail polish, you'd be a dead ringer for a shittier Jared Leto. Do I even need to talk about your arm? Nightmare Before Christmas? Is there anything more stereotypical H-X-C emo? You are literally a shittier version of me. You're worse in the ring, you're worse as a man, and you like worse metal. When your training consists of going to see The Acacia Strain or Hatebreed and flailing around in the most pit, you know you're going to have a bad time. Pits are for running in circles or bashing into each other. Not for fighting invisible ninjas. You are such a pathetic excuse for a human, Jordan. God. I am exited to crucify you in the name of Ronnie James Dio, Cliff Burton, Dimebag Darrell, Randy Rhoads, Jeff Hanneman, Peter Steele, Paul Gray, hell even Mitch Lucker. Metal never dies. Jordan Caliban dies tonight. Hopefully he's got all his eggs in a row, because everyone knows how terrible he is with paperwork.
Seven thousand five hundred lucky fans will see the most brutal beatdown in WCF history live with their very own eyes. Countless WCF wrestlers in the crowd, millions more on pay-per-view, all hosted by our World Champion. I said it before Jordan, this is going to be the closest thing to XIII that there ever will be. Rabid fans all calling for your head. You may like it that way, you may be "one against the world" but tonight the world strikes back. The world fires the first and last shot. As the old saying goes ... "when in Rome, do as the Romans do." I'm going to kill you for myself, for WCF, for WCF's fanbase, for WCF's wrestlers and most importantly for you, Jordan. That's right, I'm going to kill you for yourself. Maybe then you'll learn a bit of humility and maybe JUST MAYBE you'll become just a little bit more humble. Where your parents failed, I will succeed. I, along with everyone below, will see you tonight Jordan.
Corey throws his hands in the air, delighting the crowd below him, whipping them into a frenzy. They begin chanting his name. "CO-REY BLACK! CO-REY BLACK!" One Times Square fades to all black once again, and picks back up normal advertising while Corey ducks back behind some stuff, out of the view of the crowd. They continue to chant his name for a good bit, but they slowly disperse, probably heading to Jonny Fly's mansion. Tonight is the night most of WCF has been waiting for. Fans and wrestlers alike. Corey Black, however, is the most excited. Tonight - Corey Black takes on Jordan Caliban. There's going to be blood and coffee cakes a plenty.
"Odin! Guide our ships
Our Axes, spears and swords
Guide us through storms that whip
And in brutal war!"
- Amon Amarth, "The Pursuit of Vikings"
