Post by Dean Wolf on Sept 25, 2015 1:01:03 GMT -5
2000
We find Wolf in the same place where he was at the end of “Motivation.”“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Rewind
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Rewind
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Rewind
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Phillip: Daniel!
Rewind
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Sounds of footsteps stomping up the stairs.
Rewind
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
Rewind
“So seek the…”
Phillip: Daniel!
Wolf is startled by his father, who’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Wolf is Daniel.
Wolf: Yeah, Dad?
Phillip: What the fuck are you doing? Just play the song. You’re going to wear out the tape.
Wolf realizes what he’s been doing.
Wolf: Oh, right, sorry, Dad.
Phillip: (to himself while he walks down the stairs) Jesus Christ.
Wolf lets the song play out. He goes to his bookshelf and grabs the Dawnwood Middle School yearbook from 1998. He pulls out the “hit list” that he placed in the inside back cover and studies it. He wrote it one night back in eighth grade when he’d had a particularly bad day. That day, he had played two hand touch football in gym. His team lost because one of his teammates was tripped on the last play of the game, a passing play that could have decided the whole game. Rich, was the person who committed the foul and gloated about his team’s victory. Wolf called him out on the trip and told him he wouldn’t have won without cheating. Rich went to his friend, Jake McIntyre, and told him what Wolf said. Jake confronted Wolf in the locker room and pushed Wolf. Wolf didn’t do anything, not a word, not a warning, nothing. He let it go unanswered. He was so embarrassed when the whole ordeal was over. Everyone ridiculed him that day. The word “pussy” was used a lot.
When he got home, Wolf wrote the “hit list.” Jake’s name was the first one to go on it, followed by nine other names, ending with Joe Simpson.
Back in 2000, Wolf reads the list with a sense of excitement. He’s found his new talent for violence and can finally utilize this list.
But then a sense of guilt comes over him. I can’t act on this, he thinks. What if my parents saw this? They’d think I was going to attempt a repeat of Columbine. And what am I going to do, pick a fight with all ten of these guys? Joe Simpson doesn’t even go to school with me anymore! I wrote this shit two years ago. I have to forget about it.
He puts the list back in the yearbook and put the book back on the shelf.
The next day, Wolf walks into Centereach High School’s auditorium lobby. It’s a popular place for students to hang out in the morning before they go to first period. Upon entering the lobby, he hears somebody whisper “There he is.” Wolf notices that people are looking at him with some interest, like they’re trying to figure something out. They’re whispering to each other while keeping their eyes on him. Wolf finds this all strange. He finds his best friend, Horatio, and walks up to him.
Wolf: Hey, man.
Horatio: Hey.
Wolf: I’ve got this strange feeling that everyone’s looking at me.
Horatio: You should, because everyone is looking at you.
Wolf: Why?
Horatio moves in a little closer and speaks lower.
Horatio: Because there’s a rumor going around that you beat the shit out of Mark Castellanos, Joe Fager, and Chris Swenson.
Wolf doesn’t say anything. He looks away with a blank stare.
Horatio: Did you?
Wolf gets lost in his thoughts. All he sees are the three bodies lying on the ground the day before; the pool of blood under Joe’s head; the groans from Mark and his bruised and swollen face; the limp body of Chris up against an instrument locker.
He snaps out of it and answers Horatio.
Wolf: (laughing it off) Me? Noooo. Why? Do you think it was me?
Horatio: (speaking at a normal volume again) You kidding me? Hell no! You wouldn’t hurt anybody, especially not the way those guys got beat up. They’re all in the hospital. Chris suffered a concussion, Joe suffered a cracked skull and needed at least thirty stitches, and Mark is going to need reconstructive surgery on his face. He also has to eat through a straw.
Wolf: So why do people think it was me?
Horatio: The only one who remembers anything is Mark, but I heard that his speech is so incomprehensible that they can’t really tell what he’s saying. I don’t think anybody really thinks you did it. I think most of the conversations are like: “Did he do it?” “No, it couldn’t have been.” “Yeah, you’re probably right.” You know how rumors work. They’re not true 99.9% of the time but they allow people to gossip instead of, you know, having a life.
Wolf looks away again, this time with a disturbed look. Why don’t people believe it was me, he thinks. Is it so hard to believe it was me?
Horatio interprets Wolf’s look for worry.
Horatio: Hey, you don’t have anything to worry about. You didn’t do it and no one believes that you did.
Wolf lips tighten as Horatio mentions once again that no one believes he was capable of putting such a beating on Mark, Joe, and Chris.
Horatio: What time is it? I have to go smoke a bowl before Chemistry.
Wolf doesn’t answer.
Horatio: Eh, fuck it, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to be late either way. The dumb bitch probably won’t notice. Take it easy, man.
Horatio pats Wolf on the shoulder and walks away. Other students start to make their way to class, too. Wolf is still standing there when everyone is gone, still dwelling on the disappointment of not being seen as someone who could commit such violence.
One of the assistant principals, Mr. Hough, enters the lobby and finds Wolf standing in the middle of it.
Mr. Hough: Daniel?
Wolf doesn’t answer. He’s not even aware that his name’s being called. Mr. Hough walks up to Wolf.
Mr. Hough: Daniel.
Wolf snaps out of it and looks at Mr. Hough.
Mr. Hough: You alright, Daniel?
Wolf: (fumbling for an answer) Yeah, yeah, I’m just thinking about if I remembered my homework or not.
Mr. Hough: Well, you won’t be able to hand it in at all if you don’t go to class.
Wolf: What? Oh, yeah, you’re right. I better go.
Mr. Hough: Actually, Daniel, it’s good that you’re still out here because I needed to talk to you anyway.
Wolf swallows hard.
Mr. Hough: Let’s go to my office.
Mr. Hough and Wolf go to Mr. Hough’s office. Once they are there, Mr. Hough sits down at his desk. Wolf sits in a chair across from Mr. Hough.
Mr. Hough: Daniel, there’s this rumor going around school and…
Wolf: I know about it, Mr. Hough.
Mr. Hough: Okay, good. I don’t believe it at all. I want you to know that first.
Wolf doesn’t respond.
Mr. Hough: But you have had your problems with those boys in the past. I know your parents and I have discussed it a few times. That doesn’t mean you beat them up yesterday, but I have to investigate anyway. I’m just going to ask you a few questions for the sake of formality. You have nothing to worry about. I know it wasn’t you.
Wolf clenches his fists as they rest on his knees.
Mr. Hough: Did you speak to Mark Castellanos, Joe Fager, or Chris Swenson yesterday?
Wolf thinks very carefully about how he answers these questions. Trying to convince his peers that he brutally beat those boys is one thing. Admitting it to someone in authority is different.
Wolf: No.
Mr. Hough: Were the four of you the last ones out of the band room? I asked Mr. Schmitt, but between you and me, that guy’s so burnt out, I don’t even know if he knows where he is half the time.
Wolf laughs a tiny bit before answering.
Wolf: No
Mr. Hough: At any point yesterday, did they put their hands on you or vice versa?
Wolf thinks back to slamming Joe’s head up against a wall, punching Mark in the face repeatedly, and slamming a locker door into Chris’ head.
Wolf: No.
Mr. Hough: Okay, I’m satisfied.
Mr. Hough writes on a piece of paper.
Mr. Hough: Here’s a pass to class. This will be the last time you and I will talk about this. You have nothing to worry about. Frankly, I don’t even care if I find out who did it. Those boys have had it coming for a long time.
Mr. Hough walks to his door and holds it open for Wolf. Mr. Hough shakes his hand.
Mr. Hough: You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Daniel, I sincerely believe that.
Wolf pauses at Mr. Hough’s unsolicited compliment. Wolf gives a fake smile, nods his head, and walks out into the hallway. Mr. Hough closes the door. Wolf stands in the hallway with a disappointed look in his face. Did he want to admit his actions to Mr. Hough after all?
Sixth period comes- lunch. As Wolf walks from the kitchen to his table, he notices that people are still staring at him the same way they did earlier in the morning. He sits down at his table across from Horatio with a plate containing a chicken patty sandwich and French fries.
Wolf: Are people still saying talking about me?
Horatio: Yeah, less so than before. Maybe you should just say it was you and see what happens.
Wolf laughs a little. While he goes to take a bite of his sandwich, Jake McIntyre walks up from behind him.
Jake: Yo, Daniel.
Wolf turns around and looks up to see Jake with Rich and a bunch of other guys. Jake is the kind of guy whose sole purpose in life is to prove to people that he’s the toughest guy in the school. He has no aspirations beyond high school. In fact, he might not ever want to leave high school.
Wolf: Jake.
Jake: I’ve been hearing this rumor all day that you beat the shit out of Mark Castellanos, Joe Fager, and Chris Swenson.
Wolf: Yeah, and?
Jake: Is it true?
Wolf thinks about it again. He wants to say it was him, but for some reason, he just can’t get it out. He’s too intimidated by Jake’s presence.
Wolf: No.
Jake: Good, because I’d love to meet the guy who thinks he’s hot shit for doing what he did to those three kids yesterday. I could have done much worse to them than that. Shit, Joe Fager might have been dead if I slammed his head up against the wall, even just once.
Wolf’s body clenches in anger but his face doesn’t show it.
Jake: Anyway, enjoy your little chicken sandwich, Danny boy.
Wolf hates being called that.
Jake and his crew turn to leave. Wolf watches them walk away, feeling regret that he didn’t admit what he did and anger at Jake’s shallow arrogance. In a split second, he’s got to make a decision that might affect his standing for the rest of his time in school. Admit it and people will take you seriously as someone not to mess with without repercussions. Keep it a secret and people will always see you as the weak kid who wouldn’t harm a living thing.
Wolf: Hey, Jake!
Jake and his crew turn around.
Wolf: What if it was me?
Horatio looks at Wolf puzzled. It starts to get quieter in the cafeteria.
Jake: Then I’d have to challenge that you to a fight so that you and everyone else knows who the real bad motherfucker is in this school.
Wolf gets up from his seat and walks over to Jake.
Wolf: Well, then I guess you’re going to have to fight me.
Horatio shakes his head in disbelief. Jake laughs in astonishment.
Jake: Seriously? That was you? I don’t fucking believe it. And you’re stepping up to me. Hey, everyone, Danny Boy's grown a pair of balls!
Students are starting to form a circle around Jake and Wolf now.
Jake: Alright, you want to go motherfucker? Let’s do this.
Jake pushes Wolf. Wolf’s mind races back to the day that Jake pushed him in the locker room, when he didn’t retaliate, when everyone made fun of him for being a “pussy.” He grows angry. Angry at the past and angry at the present. He thinks about the “hit list” and Jake’s name being number one at the top.
Wolf closes his eyes and breathes in and out through his nose. He searches for something inside of him that will allow him to do what he wants to do next.
He hears his father’s voice in his head just like he heard the day before.
“Never forget the way you feel right now.”
But now he also hears James Hetfield screaming.
“So seek the wolf in thyself!”
He finds what he was looking for.
He pulls his fist back and strikes Jake with full force right across the left cheek. Jake is knocked out cold on impact. While he goes down, his head hits the side of one of the lunch tables. He hits the ground.
Wolf looks around. The cafeteria is stunned silent. He now has everybody’s attention. There is no more doubt that Wolf is the man that brutalized Mark, Joe, and Chris the day before. Wolf is now going to capitalize on the situation.
He gets on top of Jake and starts blasting his face over and over again with punches. Jake’s friends move towards Wolf to try to intervene, but Wolf stops and looks up with a face that says “Don’t even try it, motherfuckers.” Jake’s friends back off and Wolf proceeds to smash the back of Jake’s head into the ground.
Finally, security guards and teachers grab Wolf by the arms and pull him off Jake. Wolf does not resist. He knows he’s made his point. A pool of blood starts to form under Jake’s head. Some of the girls are screaming.
Mr. Hough arrives and breaks through the crowd of students. He sees Jake on the floor and looks up at Wolf.
Mr. Hough: Daniel?
Wolf stares at Mr. Hough, catching his breath.
Wolf: It was me, Mr. Hough. I beat those boys up yesterday.
Wolf looks around to the other students who have just witnessed his admission. He revels in the fact that he can now tell them all the truth. They all know now. They all know that he’s capable of horrific acts of violence. Before, the thought of Daniel Dexter hurting anyone was a joke. Now, it’s a deadly serious reality.
Wolf: It was me. It was me! It was me!
He starts off by saying it at a normal volume but it gets louder with each repetition.
Mr. Hough: (to the guards and teachers) Alright, get him to my office! And call an ambulance, God damn it! We’ve got a kid on the floor bleeding from the back of the head. Oh, God!
The guards and teachers carry Wolf away. Wolf keeps screaming “It was me” the entire time.
A few hours after Slam, 9-20-15
Wolf is sitting in the locker room in a bent position, just staring at the floor. He hasn’t changed. He hasn’t showered. Clearly, everyone else is gone and he’s the last one left. The lights in the locker room are all off except for the one right above Wolf. He hears two men talking outside the locker room door.
Voice 1: I saw that guy Wolf faced tonight. What’s his name, Red Trunks?
Voice 2: Yeah, I think his real name’s Earl. I heard that he wants Red Trunks to be his name now. He thinks it’ll help land him a permanent contract.
Voice 1: Talk about delusional. Wolf really finished him off quickly tonight.
Voice 2: Justin Bieber could have finished him off quickly tonight.
Voice 1: What, you’re not impressed?
Voice 2: Not at all. What’s the guy done so far? Brawl into the crowd? Get himself DQ’d? Beat a no name? Come on, he’s nothing special.
Voice 1: I guess, but he’s got potential. Maybe he’ll break out during War.
Voice 2: I wouldn’t put any money on it. He still has to cut his teeth- or should I say his fangs. AWOOOOOOOOO!
Both men laugh and walk away.
Wolf waits a few seconds until he can’t hear the two men anymore. Then he gets up quickly and punches a locker. He leans up against the locker, breathing heavy, and then sits back down. There’s a huge dent where Wolf punched the locker.
Wolf: A long time ago, the words of someone very close to me taught me that I needed to be angry in order to fight. The events of tonight have left me with no shortage of things to be angry about.
I was supposed to have a match with Kyle Kemp, John Gable, and Spencer Adams. Kemp and Gable just straight up decided they weren’t going to wrestle and Adams thought his time was better spent fighting a bunch of no names in the back. All three of them thought it wasn’t worth their time to step into the ring with me. They left me in the ring by myself, having to reduce myself into fighting out of shape sixty year old named Red Trunks. All in all, Kemp, Gable, and Adams treated me like a fucking joke.
I am not a fucking joke. You want to know what a joke is?
Kyle Kemp is a joke. He’s the People’s Champion, yet when it’s time to wrestle in front of the people, he backs out. I don’t care about the people, but when it’s time to wrestle in front of them, I do my job.
John Gable is a joke. He failed at acting, so he decided to join a profession that he detests. When I’ve failed on my way to making it to the WCF, I didn’t just give up and do something that I hated. I got back up until I succeeded.
Spencer Adams is a joke. He needs to go to therapy and talk about his feelings in order to deal with his problems. I have never needed to pay someone to listen to me cry for an hour in order to deal with my problems. I always dealt with them like a man.
And I heard a rumor that Seth Lerch is fucking Spencer Adams’ mom. That in itself is a fucking joke.
He gets up and starts pacing around the locker room.
Those three men want to embarrass me on national television? They don’t know what they’ve done. Anger is the fuel that powers my violence, and these assholes have overfilled my tank.
But it’s not just them that haven’t been taking me seriously. No one in the WCF has taken me seriously. And why is that? I mean, take a look at the people that were in my debut match at Revenge.
Sin Rostro and C.J. Sharpe- they vanished.
Ace Maverick- everyone thought he was on fire when he got the fluke pin in that match. Then he got himself pinned in about five seconds the following week and his ass was fired!
Cletus T. Clyde- that good ol’ boy had a lot of shit to say about me until I caved his head in with a chair. Ever since then, no one’s heard a peep from him. The cousin fucker’s gone into hiding!
As far as I can tell, the only people left from that match are Vic Venable and Wolf. I show up every week and fight and so far, I haven’t been left on my back. I haven’t been pinned and I haven’t tapped out.
But nobody recognizes that. Nobody says a word about me. No one praises me.
I keep hearing all these names bandied about as to who’s going to win War- Gemini Battle, John Gable, Teo Del Sol, Los Tiburones, Corey Black, David Sanchez. Fuck, I think I even heard someone say Billy was going to win! But no mention of me, not even as a runner up or a third place finisher.
He becomes pensive.
These are probably the same people that mock me for choosing Wolf as my name.
I hear people howl behind my back. Joey Flash walked behind me the other day humming “Hungry Like the Wolf.” If people think that I call myself Wolf because I want to be compared to an animal, then they are fucking stupid and ignorant.
I’m not going to walk out to the sounds of wolves howling. I’m not going to wear a picture of a wolf on my vest. I’m not going to start calling myself “The Lone Wolf.” I’m not going to say “Wolf’s on the prowl,” or start a group called Wolf’s Pack. I’m not going to get a tattoo of wolf scratches on my chest or attach wolf’s fur to my wrestling gear.
Wolf isn’t a gimmick to me. I’m not trying to attract eyeballs or make myself more marketable. To me, the name Wolf is about change. It’s about becoming the person you know you are. Look at my tattoo.
He holds out his right arm and points to the tattoo.
“Seek the wolf in thyself.” When I was fifteen years old, I sought the wolf that was inside of me and I found him. He was hiding inside a scared little boy, a scared little boy that was too timid to defend himself. I looked inside, found the wolf, and pulled him out. And I unleashed him on the people who took advantage of my fear, my timidity, my weaknesses.
And when it comes to War, I will seek the wolf once again and unleash him on my opponents.
His pensive moment ends and he returns to the rant he was on before.
He mockingly imitates the two men from before.
“He hasn’t cut his teeth yet. He hasn’t proven himself yet.”
I don’t have to prove anything to anyone in War. People are going to have to prove themselves to me. If they don’t think I should be taken seriously, maybe they should take a look at themselves and how I view them.
Gemini Battle, Jordan Caliban, Corey Black- three schizophrenics who can’t decide who the fuck they are. I know exactly who I am.
Jayson Price and Rico Rojas- two degenerates who need drugs and alcohol to get by. I’m a free man who’s not dependent on anything.
Teo Del Sol- a man whose first priority is entertaining the fans. Any man who’s more concerned with entertaining the fans rather than being the last man standing is weak minded and probably wants an award just for participating.
He gets louder.
Jeff Purse- a guy with a mental disorder who thinks he can have control over the things that are uncontrollable. I live in the real world and accept its chaos!
Jay Omega- a guy who should have left the first time he was injured instead of hogging up space that could be used by someone who’s trying to make it in the WCF. I’m not a selfish man!
Louder.
David Sanchez- he calls himself a “plague” and thinks he can break people down mentally. My will is too strong to be broken down by some turd stain who hates himself so much that he compares himself to a disease!
His anger is at a fever pitch.
Adam Young- another hick! Do me a favor and go fuck Cletus in the butt while he squeals like a little piggy!
The entire Beachkrew- oh I’m sorry, #BeachKrew. Here’s a rule: if you use a hashtag in your group’s name, you should automatically cut your fucking nuts off! I know that might be hard for you guys to do, seeing that your mouths are permanently connected to each other’s sacks!
Dexter Radcliffe- Sexasaurus Dex? Please just join BeachKrew and go away!
Alex Richards- since you seem to like the title “Archduke,” let me make a comparison to a very famous Archduke, Franz Ferdinand. Just like he didn’t see his assassin coming, you will not see me coming when I come in for The Kill! Confusion will certainly reign when you’re lying on your back thinking “Where the fuck did he come from!?”
He throws a trash can.
I used to just think that War was just a cute sounding name for a match; but now, I’m taking it literally! This will be a war. This is a war where I will demand to be taken like the serious fighter that I am. It will be a war for respect and I will conquer the respect of my opponents! I don’t care if I have to enter as number fucking one and go through every piece of shit that comes into the ring! I will walk out as the number one contender for the World Title!
He’s now full on yelling.
And whether it’s that ugly looking motherfucker Dune or that metrosexual pussy Joey Flash, I will be the World Champion when 2015 ends and people will look at each other and say “How did we not see this coming?”
He pauses, breathing heavy.
BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS!!!
Wolf slams his head up against a locker over and over again until he pulls his head back and slams it one more time, which knocks the door off of its hinges.
He steps back and blood is trickling from his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. His eyes are tearing up. He lets out a long scream and falls to his knees. He begins punching the floor, screaming over and over again as the camera pans back until Wolf fades into the darkness.
