#OneBodyTooMany #WarInTwoParts
Oct 1, 2015 15:05:44 GMT -5
Alex Richards, Joey Flash, and 2 more like this
Post by Wade Moor on Oct 1, 2015 15:05:44 GMT -5
"Burn me out of your mind,
this is a place i cannot be anymore.
Every inch of ground is paved with lies." - One Body Too Many (Winds of Plague)
(Dear Wade,
You have been the most wonderful son a mother could ask for)
The tropical heats beat down on Wade Moor and Jared Holmes as they cut through thickets of brush deep in the Florida Everglades. When Wade was a boy – and sober – this trek always seemed shorter. Now, the trail was covered with years of abandon and the task had become more arduous...but still, they pressed on with those red gripped machete's hacking away at every inch of wildlife in their path.
Wade looked back at Jared, who marched forward with his head and chest held high. Wade smiled at his friend, becoming more impressed with him as the day's drove on. When they had first met, Wade remembered thinking that he must have been part of the group that had initially ambushed him that day. Indeed, he looked the part. Hair coiffed and Hollister fucking jeans...but something about him was different than the others.
(You have always been a bright boy, a brilliant cytologist and a logical thinker. You've grown up to be a strong man and you're becoming more like your father every day.)
Wade saw that day that they were alike in so many ways. Now that he was out here in this shit hole swamp with him to help him on his mission...he knew that they were of the same mind. Looking back at his friend comforted him...it was looking ahead, making their way towards Wade's fathers cabin, that struck him with fright. Wade wasn't sure what to expect when they arrived. He couldn't even begin to imagine what horrors awaited him there.
Or if he was even ready to accept them.
(That's why I had to leave...)
__________________________________________________________________________________________
“Blood alone moves the wheel's of history.
“Have you ever asked yourself in an hour of meditation, just how long you have been striving for greatness? Not only during this time of War, but from the moment as a child that you realized...
“The world could be conquered?
“I will say to you, and you will understand, that it is a privilege to fight. It is a privilege to get your hands dirty. I ask you, the roster of WCF, to rise and be worthy of these historical hours.
“I ask you to rise, so that I may put you right back down in the dirt where you belong. Every leader in this world knows that to take away freedoms and liberties, you give them away one by one. You hand them over to the cattle so that they in turn choose to give them away. They decide to stand up and fight for what's right...and that's your rights. That's your right as living, breathing humans.
“They give you this freedom to fight this War as if your career depended on it...and some of yours do. Some of your careers depend on fighting and reigning victorious in this match. It's what it all boils down to, isn't it? To stand among your peers, fight the good fight, and walk away with a shot at the World Championship? Yeah, that offer is extremely enticing to the few who have been trying their damnedest to make the world take notice. Like you so called men in the DRG? Men like Thomas Bates. Men like Gemini Battle. Men like Deuce Murdock
“Thomas Bates has eyes for nothing but the World Championship. He's all but staked his claim to it without reason why he is deserving of such an accolade. But he just sees gold...leather and his mind is made up. He wants that strap and he won't rest until it is secured around his waist. The Impassable Mountain finally becomes his name sake and he's standing at the top 'where he belongs'?
“Am I wrong? Correct me if I'm wrong, Bates. Please, I implore you to say something that isn't completely hapless drivel. Don't pretend like you haven't been silent on all fronts, outside of your promos of course, on why you even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as the World Championship. You've clammed up. You've stalled out. And for what? What people are whispering behind your back?
“That's some really pathetic shit. Whenever you debuted, you were the second coming of Winston Churchill...at least, you quoted him enough to be thought of as such. You were ready to stand up and fight that good fight. Bring War to everyone's front doors and cut down every man who stood in your way. That sounds like a good life. An honorable life...
“But now you're just the next J. Edgar Hoover. Standing in your room with the lights dimmed and a pair of high heels on pretending you're still the bad ass everyone thought you were. And you were a bad mother fucker, if I'm not mistaken. You may not have accomplished your dream of winning the World Championship as soon as you thought, but hey! You were IN a World Championship match. You were in a spot that most people covet, some thought you were undeserving of, but you took that spot and BY GOD...
“You fucked it up. You really fucked the pooch in that match without the courtesy of a reach around, didn't you? You were all but handed a spot in a World Championship match against Dune...and you did exactly what you're going to do in this War match.
“You froze. You stopped in place. You realized that the plate was a lot bigger, the gold wasn't as bright, and the spotlight was a little more blinding than you thought it would be. Then the whispers turned into roars and you ran away, covering your ears, kicking and screaming...because that's what men do. They turn and run like Jackson White in an Internet Championship match. You think you were cut out for this lifestyle, Thomas Bates? You think you were born to be World Champion?
“I don't even think you were born to be a man. You're still a child. Puffing up your chest, beating that War drum, and proclaiming size is what determines the mettle of a man. I can tell you right now...it's not the size of your arms that determine how far you will go...it's the size of your heart, even if it is as black as mine. You think I give a fuck about you, Thomas Bates? You think The Leviathan cares how big you are? Please, I'll scoop you up, eat you in one bite, and shit you out the opposite end. But you'll proclaim I haven't been here long enough to deserve this shot I'm taking.
“I've been here long enough to know that you're a pussy, Thomas. You choke under pressure. You choke on that dick because it's a lot longer than you thought it was. You thought you could take it all, but you ran out the door screaming rape as soon as you got a taste of it. This is your last chance to try and take it all Thomas...but you still don't have it. You don't have enough in the tank. Everyone's words swallowed your spirit. That's that Tidal Wave I've been talking about.”
“Then you got this Gemini Battle.. The only thing this guy has been battling is relevancy. He did everything he could. He Defiled Logic in Trio's with Bates and Murdock. He tried his absolute best, played every hand he could think of...but now his shit's run out. Now he's just Livewire again. That Grayson Pierce angle because he couldn't pull off that psycho clown shit as well as he thought he could.
“It's a little hard being crazy when crazy just isn't you, is it Gemini? You thought you had it all. The clown make up, the dual personalities, the whacky clothes...but underneath all that, you were just a good boy screaming to get out. You tried to see how far into the depths of depravity you could go just to pull yourself out at the last minute? Story of Gemini Battle's career right there. Pulling out at the last minute.
“You'll never know what it's like to finish in that sweet vag because you're afraid of the consequences. You're afraid of relinquishing any kind of control you have in this life by throwing results three sheets to the wind, aren't ya? That's why you hopped on board with the Defilers of Logic during Trio's. You saw that Thomas Bates came in and made a name for himself just by walking through the door. You saw Deuce Murdock's rising credibility and you hopped on that train quicker than you can say 'Flash beats Dune'.
“BUT...'I'M GEMINI FREAKING BATTLE!!!' you screamed at the top of your lungs! But you didn't really expect anyone to hear you. They paid attention to your little gripes. They decided it was time for this guy to swim...or sink. And sink you did. They put you up against two of WseaF's top stars and you – just like Bates – faltered under that pressure.
“Flash beat you pretty quick. Fool didn't even take off his sweatpants to do it. He yawned when he finished you off. I can't tell if he was bored with the match or if you were just straight up putting him to sleep. I'm going to go with both. Then fast forward to the week after that and Dune was straight up putting you in the ground. A little World Champion burial right before War. That's ritualistic, a serving comeuppance, and just a little indictment of how the brass feels about your momentum.
“Now, you're still screaming and nobody real cares. You gone and capped out. Hit your ceiling. Pulled out just a little too early on that one. Now, even if by some miracle, you last until the end of War and pull out a victory befitting Gemini Battle...what makes you think you can stand up to Flash or Dune again? Especially on the 'Grandest' stage of them all at One? What can you say now to make us believe you're going to win?
“If your answer was nothing, you pretty much got it right. If at first you don't succeed...well, you can just become Livewire again. That seemed to work out so well for you the first time.”
“And then you have Deuce Murdock, who somehow came back from the dead to return just in time for War. That's...odd.
“If you had faked your death just for the sole purpose of a surprise return at War, then that shit was in just poor taste. Poor form. Scarecrow's turning over in his grave right now, hopefully as uncomfortably as possible. People expect guys like me to take the low road because there's plenty of guys trying to take the high road on this one. People who say they're sad to see Scarecrow go, but really they're just glad a spot opened up for them. A spot they themselves would have killed to get.
“In reality, you people should be thanking me for what happened to Scarecrow than shitting on Deuce Murdock for being such a miserable failure and coming back to think he's worth this. He's back and trying to steal your spotlight from you in this War match. He thinks because he was gone for a hot minute, he can come in refreshed with a head full of steam and finally...win the War that's been alluding him all these years.
“But, but, but...this is just the latest chapter in Heartbreak and Heartbreak: The Gonzo Deuce Story. You're more interested in telling the story that happens behind the scenes than bringing a satisfying tale inside of it to fruition. You want people to care about the Deuce Murdock that nobody knows...but these
'fans'? These 'people'? They only care about one thing...and that's how successful you've been inside this squared circle. That's what it all comes down to.
“But you think it's what happens outside that matters, right? That's why most of your promos take place at Huckleberry Farms talking about scrapple or some shit like that. You know what that shows me, Deuce? You have no drive. You have no focus. You have no determination to get the job done when it really counts. That's why your World Championship match against Dune was a total flop. That's why you've lost every championship you've ever held. But you're a former SEAL so you have your pride, right? You have your dignity. That's why you can't find it in yourself to call it a day. You can't just give up and accept that you weren't cut out for this shit, Murdock.
“Being in the ring reminds you of what it was like on the battlefield, except you're not ripping into insurgents brandishing AK-47's. That's the devil you know...but I'm the one you don't know. I'm the demon inside of you and the monster standing in front of you. I'm the Leviathan sneaking up on your SEAL team underwater, waiting to swallow you down in one gulp.
“I'm Death...finally come to exact his pound of flesh...
“And you won't escape me this time.”
(I'm sorry Wade. As much as I don't want it to be true...and as much as it pains me to say this...)
Wade and Jared now stood outside the family cabin, fallen into derelict and disarray since he left it eight years ago. It had weathered it's fair share of storms, but the door was hanging off it's frame and the windows were shattered. Wade couldn't help but think back to the house in Hyde Park. They looked extremely similar in manner, reflecting Wade's own inner turmoil Could it be that Buddy Roman had his thumb on his pulse the entire time?
(It's because of you that I have to leave.)
Wade shivered at the thought.
Not many things would spin Wade into a state of uncontrollable doubt and fear...but what he had been seeing in his nightmares haunted him every day. Now he was here, at his childhood home, to put the nightmare to rest. Scarecrow had killed his father, of that he was certain. The nightmare had been induced by Buddy Roman who was a master of psychology...and a far more sinister than even he let on.
(I look into your eyes and I see they are the same as your father's. Emotionless. Empty. Black.)
Was that the makings of a true monster? Was it not a trauma evoked during puerility? Wade's innocence had been taken away the day he met Cory Cane. The bully Crow had been was enough to make Wade see the world for what it truly was.
A great black pit.
An ocean of hatred and fear.
(You and your father have the eyes of the Devil.)
_________________________________________________________________________________________
“Zombie McMorris.
“I tried so hard to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. You've lived many and not once have you seen exactly what you are. Sure, you have an uncanny ability to seize the world around you, bend it to your will, and make light of things that actually matter. Part of that can contribute to the success you found as leader of The Vapor Kings, one of the hottest stables in WCF.
“But the other half of that would contribute to you being a massive failure. When most people look at Zombie McMorris, they can't help but think he's a joke. A shadow of his former self. A self sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. They look at you and see a wall they can ascend, or crash through depending on their given mood. Brass looks at you and sees somebody they can use to put over their rising talent.
“Jay Omega. Spencer Adams. Deuce Murdock. Joey Flash. Dune.
“Next up, Wade Moor.
“But who else is next on the list? L.A. Kush? Bad News Benson? Jeff Danger? The MacNeill Clan? BioWalker?
“Through Zombie McMorris...all things are possible, right? You're the doorway everyone kicks in to make a name for themselves here because, all things aside, you are a force to be reckoned with in that ring. I know from experience that Zombie McMorris isn't a joke. He can still hang with the best of them, bring the world to it's knees, and unzip his denim shorts to shove that crusty THICK in their faces.
“But the ZMAC that you proclaim to be and the ZMAC that you actually resemble are two very different people. You lack the killer instinct you used to have. When the big Internet Title matches come up, you know that you can seize the day because that's all you were built for. You revolutionized a division...no, fuck, you created it Zombie McMorris. You created an entire division to rule over with an iron fist...
“And yet you're being taken to task by a 'jobber'? Somebody you consider wholly beneath you in every conceivable manner? How does it look for you when the 'jobber' turns around and fucks you? You lose all credibility and you have nobody to blame but yourself. You created the division and you create the monsters that kill you. This is house that ZMAC built...
“And like I told you, I'm going to burn it to the ground.
“I gave you an opportunity, ZMAC. I gave you an opportunity to let me help you. Together, we could have slayed them all. The Leviathan and The Honey Badger standing side by side on a full sail path of destruction? That would have been a sight to see. I would have taught you to tame the high winds, hoist the sails, and bring this federation to it's knees once again. Nobody would have been able to stand up to our collective evil.
“But you turned it down when you decided the Honey Badger just doesn't give a fuck. That's whats wrong with you. The mantra you have been shouting since day one finally came around and bit you on the ass, Zombie. You don't give a fuck and everyone can tell you don't give a fuck. You took to twitter when our first Internet Championship match rolled around and you cried for me, Z.
“You just cried.
“You have forsaken what could have been a very fruitful life in favor of some long gone ideal that it's not 'cool' to give a fuck. ZMAC is all about his self-image, though he will argue to no end that it's not the case. He will fight tooth and nail to make sure 'icon' that is Zombie McMorris isn't sullied in anyway. His own self-preservation holds him back from the success he could have.
“But that self preservation is going to be what ends you, ZMAC. So now, this Sunday, it's The Leviathan versus The Honey Badger in not one, but two matches. I don't care much for Match of the Week, Wrestler of the Week, or even Promo of the Week.
“The only thing I'm going to care about come Sunday Night is putting an end to Zombie McMorris, and I only have one statement left for you:
(You scare me Wade. Everything you say, everything you do...it resembles your father in so many ways.)
The inside of the cabin was just as frightful as the outside, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Wade's heart rate accelerated to levels outside of his control. It was like a entirely separate entity inside of him, trying to beat it's way out of his chest, scratching and clawing at his bone and flesh. Wade collapsed to his knees on the kitchen floor and Jared rushed to his side.
“Wade! Wade, what's wrong man?”
(What happened to you, Wade? I can't help but blame myself, even though I know I have no control over this. It was the risk I took by bringing you into this world. I knew exactly the kind of man your father was.)
Wade pulled himself to his feet, using a beaten counter top as support. A black widow spider crawled across his knuckles and scurried away as he lifted himself up. Jared grabbed him underneath the arm for extra support.
“Are you ok, Wade? We should go, man.”
Wade waved his hand back and forth.
“No...no. We've come too far. Just help me to the basement...” Wade pleaded.
Jared looked deep into his forlorn friends eyes...and nodded in affirmation. They slow walked to the basement door, which still hung off it's hinges from Wade kicking it down. Wade moved away from Jared's support and grabbed onto the railing that lead down the stairs. He moved one step...and the railing gave way beneath his strength, cracking in two, and sent Wade spilling down the stairs to the concrete floor below.
(He wasn't the kind to give gifts...but when he gave me you? You were this mother's greatest gift. But now you're her heaviest burden. I can't live in this world with two monsters...I just can't)
________________________________________________________________________________________
“At a very young age, I learned that the concept of a Hero didn't really exist.
“My family lived in squalor, far from the prying eyes of society so that my father could practice whatever manner of science he so wished. We lived in danger every second of every day so that my father could drive himself mad with his fruitless endeavors. Gator attacks were the least of our worries out in the Florida swamps.
“It was the people you had to watch out for. Everyone thinks that I'm in way over my head in the WCF...but this is just a normal week for me. Beaten, bloodied, bruised...I was already familiar with the construct before I even decided to step foot into this business. I had to protect myself every day of my life. Bullies at school. Bullies outside of school. Grown fucking men telling a child that he didn't have a chance in Hell of being a normal member of society.
“Those men were right. I'm not normal, by any stretch of the word. I am damaged beyond belief, and it's all of your faults! You like to point the finger of blame at myself, but I tried like Hell to keep my head screwed on straight...but at every turn, I was beaten into a bloody pulp. Physically and mentally. Every day I spent wishing that a Hero would come and save me from that life.
“But nobody ever came. No knight in shining armor came to slay the dragon. No man in a cape came to whisk away the villain's that plagued me for so long.
“And I learned that none would ever come.
“Men like Teo Del Sol, Spencer Adams, Vic Venable. You think you're heroes? Why? What gives you the dubious honor of proclaiming yourself as such? Because you dress up in tights and fight evil? No...no...it doesn't. You look the part, but it's whats inside that counts.
“Teo Del Sol...why do you wear a mask? Do you cover your face to resemble these so called Heroes, men that dress up to fight the forces of evil? Is it to protect yourself, your identity when you step into the ring? Or is to protect the ones you love from the hate you have become a magnet to?
“You want to know who else wears a mask? Oblivion. Oblivion gallivants around in a mask to hide away the shame he gets from performing his acts of 'evil'. He inflects the hatred upon the mask instead of on the man behind it. It's easier to hate an idol than it is to hate a living human being. A symbol of the madness instead of the person actually committing the heinous unspeakable sufferings.
“So why do you wear the mask, Teo? Everyone has already seen your face. They know you're Teddy Blaze. You failed as a regular wrestler so you escaped from it all. You ran away to Mexico and there you found Lucha Libre. You were reborn in the spirit of men like Rey Mysterio, El Santo, and Eddie Guerrero. You found Lucha Libre like a man would find God and that's where you staked your claim.
“But just like Mil Mascaras, you wear more than one mask don't you? What happens if I rip off your mask Sunday Night? Would you have another one on underneath? Why so many masks, Teo? Are you ashamed of who you are? I mean, you might not come out and say it, but when somebody goes through great lengths to hide who they really are...I can't help but wonder.
“I haven't gone through such extraneous means to hide myself, but you and I are pretty similar Teo. I have #BeachKrew...which is sort of a mask. It's not a literal one, of course...but it does the job. It hides away what people think I am. They think I'm an arrogant frat boy, concerned with nothing but trolling the Internet forums of WCF.com. Good...that's what I want them to think.
“Some people have managed to see through it, though I wasn't really trying to hard to hide it. All they needed to do was pay attention and they would see it slipping through the cracks. The true Wade Moor. The Leviathan. The Devil in the Flesh.
“Nice to meet me.
“You haven't had the misfortune of facing me in the ring yet...but you have been on the business end of Los Tiburones boot a few times already. The most recent being your outing in that steel cage match where Tiburones exposed you for the fool you really are. He predicted your little Habanero Highdive high spot. He predicted you would be too afraid of losing your mask and would forsake anything to hold on to it. He predicted that he would end your title reign and become the SeaV Champion.
“All of those things came to fruition, Teo. He had your number from day one but you couldn't see it through those little slits in your mask. You couldn't see him making a mockery of your lifestyle and then turning around and doing it so much better than you. You couldn't see these things because you were so focused on yourself and swimming to the top...you forgot to look around you for sharks.
“What are you going to do when the Leviathan sneaks up on you? Are you going to hit me with a hurricanrana? I'll just powerbomb you to the mat. Are you going to hit me with a spinning wheel kick? I'll grab you by the legs and throw you out of the ring. Are you going to hit that Habanero Highdive on me? I'll catch you in midair, grab you around the waist, and squeeze the life out of you in the middle of the ring.
“You're no Hero, Teo Del Sol. You're not a bright ray of shining light at the end of a dark tunnel. You're just a beautiful lie...and I am the bitter truth.
“Then you have Spencer Adams. The Antidote, as you call yourself. What exactly have you been sent to cure, Spencer? Do you have some sort of divine mission that nobody knows about? What about your nickname makes you stand out above the crowd?
“Evil still runs rampant in the WCF. Let's face the facts right now...there are far more bad guys than there are good guys in this world. You look at that and see a spot. You see a way to make a name for yourself, fighting off the villainy that plagues these halls...but don't you see that, in itself, is selfish thinking? You don't see yourself as the Hero by nature...you see yourself as a Hero by consequence. You just see a spot you can take because there just aren't that many people vying for it.
“What about that makes you Heroic, Spencer? What about that makes you the underdog? You're just a pathetic, squabbling child trying to put people on notice. You put on the make up, the War paint, to hide away the child that lies underneath. You want them to see the man you present yourself as...but just like me and #BeachKrew, I see right through it.
“That's my inordinate gift...my 'villain'-esque power if you would. I can see right into people's hearts...and if I were to tell you what I see, you wouldn't like what you hear.
“Haven't you figured out that this isn't a fantasy land, Spencer? There are no such thing as 'pushes'. Everything we get in this life, we earn off of merit alone. There is nobody looking out for us, nobody to hand us opportunities, and to get what you want...well, you just have to go out and take it. And what I really want...is to crush 'men' like you under my boot. I want to smash every inch of your face until it is unrecognizable. And trust me when I say I'm going to do something...I'm going to do it.
“Scarecrow was the first in a long line of false Heroes. He was a man who thought he could get the people to rally behind him. Fighting for their love month after month...but what kind of a farce is that? Why do you need to fight for somebodies approval? Fighting is inherently violent...and to fight for the love of the people is just a macabre illusion. One quarter of the people in the crowd go home, get toxic drunk, and beat their wives. Not every person in that crowd is a blank faced saint and to fight for the love of demons is to invite the devil inside.
“I'll tell you something Spencer...you're not going to get any love from me. I'll show you what tough hate is, just like your dear daddy did when you were a boy.
“The Devil's here, Spence. I'm a plague...one that doesn't have an Antidote.
“And then you have Vic Venable. Another weekend warrior. Another false Hero who tries...tries SO HARD to be what doesn't exist. You can't be a Hero and a Villain, Vic. It doesn't work that way. I know what happened to you, Vic. I know your history. It wasn't hard to find newspaper clippings and shoulder through hours of your brother Franky's old matches.
“That's what gave me the edge over you in our first encounter...and it's whats going to give me the edge now. Oh, but you have #BeachKrew figured out now, don't you? We're all wolves in sheep's clothing, right? We're bad men hiding behind arrogant personas and now that you've got it all square, you know what to expect in this War match, right?
“Wrong. Dead wrong, Vic. You peel away the layers of fluff...and you still have wolves. Underneath that, there are sharks. Underneath, even that, there are Leviathans. There are so many layers to #BeachKrew that by the time you get through them all, you're already laid out in the center of the ring eating a pinfall. You never know what to expect from us...because we're unpredictable. Unlike you and the rest of these Heroes. Right here, right now, I'm going to give you the most sound advice you've ever heard in your life, Vic...and it's not to get out of the shadow your brother casts.
“Just quit, Vic. Turn and walk away from this War. You think this is something that you want? You think this is a match that you need? Something to propel you further into some kind of relevancy? Get you out of the shadows and into the spotlight?
“The light casts an even bigger shadow, Vic...and that's where the monsters lurk...and I'm not even talking about me, Vic. I'm talking about men you think are Heroes, just like yourself. How you thought Scarecrow was a Hero and I stained his memory by interrupting that ten bell salute...but if anything, I did him a kindness. I brought forth his darkness for everyone to see. For once, the truth was told about the man named Cory Cane.
“He was a killer. He wasn't any more of a man than you are, Vic. I'm not going to out you for the whole world, Vic...I expect you to do yourself that justice. Tell these people exactly who you are. I'm not afraid of hiding behind a mask.
“So why are all of our Heroes doing it? What do they have to be ashamed of? They aren't who you think they are, the persona they paint for you. #BeachKrew is more heroic than any of you are because we actually tell the truth. Our message is going to reach far and wide after War has come and gone. Nobody will have a choice but to step in line with it...because it's the only ounce of truth they'll ever hear in their whole lives.
“Heroes don't exist.
“And after War, neither will you three.”
(Wade...I couldn't recall a time in my life where you ever frightened me.)
Wade looked up from the ground, a hazy reminder of his memories. He remembered it like it happened yesterday. Scarecrow standing over his father's corpse with that bloody tanto gripped in his hand, a smile spread from ear to ear. His boots scuffed against the floor as he whistled a tune to himself, cleaning the blade off with the end of his duster. Wade tried to climb to his feet, but Scarecrow was already on top of him, his boot pressing hard into his back and shoved him back down to the floor.
This time, it was different. It started to feel more...real. Instead of a hazy dream, it was now a harsh reality. Wade could taste the blood in his mouth, feel the cold floor stinging his face. He could literally smell the open wound in his father's chest and the cold steel from Scarecrow's blade.
He felt calloused hands grab him by the hair and lift his head up, forcing him to look at his father's corpse. Scarecrow bent down to knee, just enough to whisper into Wade's ear...
“You want to see something...really scary, Wade?!”
But it wasn't Scarecrow's voice that came out. It was his own. He turned to face Cory Cane, but instead he was replaced by another version of Wade. A nine years younger Wade stared back at him, his eyes a brilliant shade of black. He held his head up and forced him to watch the events transpire.
(But that look in your eyes...I just can't get it out of my head. There's something buried deep inside you...and I have no intentions of finding out what it is.
Goodbye, my son, my Wade.
Please know that I always loved you.
- Mom)
_______________________________________________________________________________________
“Some would say that I have some rather hefty obstacles to get through in this match. Men who have but staked their claim at the top of this company.
“Men like David Sanchez.
“You have risen to the near top of this company so naturally. You made it seem almost effortless the way you've managed to do it. Beating Thomas Bates for the United States Championship is what really cemented you as a budding main eventer in the WCF. You beat somebody that not a lot of people care for and made it seem effortless. You won that match, won that title, and did what any normal person would do under those circumstances and celebrated your victory. You held that title high as a symbol of what you came from and where you might go...
“But it must have really pissed you off when Seth came out and announced Thomas Bates as a surprise third entrant in the World Championship match scheduled to take place at Revenge. Why? Why Thomas Bates? Didn't you just dispatch him and win the United States Championship without question? Shouldn't it have been you that was granted that World title shot? Thomas Bates was just coming off a fresh loss against YOU.
“Why did he get rewarded and you drew the short straw? That doesn't seem like a legitimate, cohesive decision made by Seth Lerch if I've ever seen one. We all know Lerch isn't the one to make the most cohesive decisions. He knew putting Bates in a World Championship match was a safe bet, that he would never be the one to take it away from Dune.
“But you...you possibly could have. You might have just been the one to take the title off of Dune. You're more than up to task for it. David Sanchez could be the future of the Wrestling Championship Federation...You know what I said about dreams and destinies? That applies to you too. Maybe more so than anybody else because there dreams are all false hopes they feed to themselves so they can catch a wink of sleep at night. But yours have an honest chance of coming to fruition...
“That was until The Leviathan came around, David.
“I'm not afraid of men like you. Men that use their physical stature as a means of dominance...but that's just half of my game. The other half is getting inside your head. Sure, you're good at cutting people down. You've got the talk down. Your words cut like knives, don't they?
“But I know your weakness, David.
“And the bitches name is Lady Knives. Sometimes, the measure of a man isn't what's inside of him. It's whats on the outside. Vain depictions of what life actually is. Yours comes in the form of your wife, the only person in this life that you've brought yourself to love.
“She's prevalent in your promos like words to a book. She helps you cut your opponents down to size in a way that you wouldn't be able to achieve of your own volition. She does all your homework for you so all you have to do is show up and be the brooding shit brick house that you are. That's all you're designed for.
Eat.
Sleep.
Conquer.
Repeat.
“But what if something were to...happen to Lady Knives? What if she was to go precariously missing before the event? What would you do then, David? Would you be able to keep focus long enough to win the event? Could you keep your head on straight long enough to come out of War the decisive victor?
“Don't worry, nothing is going to happen to your beloved. I just want you to know that the option is on the table. It could happen...but I don't want it to. I want you to be at your absolute best whenever I destroy you David. All that momentum you've been building over these passed few months? I'm going to take it all away from you. I'm going to steal it from you David. I'm going to take the other half of you that matters. I don't need to take away Knives to get inside of your head, David. I just need to break you down in the ring come Sunday night.
“I know you're one of the biggest threats in this match. You have a killer instinct only matched by the men in #BeachKrew. You're going to be the biggest notch on my belt come this weekend and I'm going to get that notch...
“Even if I have to kill you for it.
“Then you have Occulo. A name from the past looking to make his return at other people's expense...
“But your weakness is simple Occulo. You have no staying power. You crumble in big matches...like you crumbled in your only United States Championship defense you ever had. You spent months eluding an actual title defense. You were called out by several people...and then finally when the pressure started to build up, you accepted those shots to the bow.
“You entered into a triple threat match against Kaz Mazy and Snapz. You guys fought tooth and nail through the arena, beating the absolute hell out of each other through the arena. Then Kaz Mazy nailed both you and Snapz with the Kami-KAZ-I and didn't even have respect enough to pin you. He had you both dead to rights, but instead he threw his arm over Snapz instead. Snapz. A fucking imbecile who strong armed his way into a title match only to fall under the might that was Kaz Mazy.
“That was your legacy, Occulo. That's what you left behind before you disappeared off the face of the planet. A failed title defense and nothing to cling to whenever you made your long awaited return. Now you're here in this War match with me. You've never met me...but I know everything about you.
“I'm going to make you wish you never came back, Occulo. This won't be your big return where you show the world what you're made of. This won't be a Occulo's comeback story. This isn't some legendary return from Occulo.
“That's just not the way this story was meant to happen.
“Ever.
“It was never your destiny to win War. You can stand there and puff out your chest as much as you want, but it's never going to happen. You'll falter under pressure just like you've always done. That's just the way it was always meant to happen.”
Wade stood in his father's basement, a room he was never allowed to enter under any circumstances. A piece of paper was crumpled in his fist and his face was red with anger, hate, guilt...shame. He had read the note over and over again, trying to make sense of it all...but he couldn't. His mind wouldn't allow it. He tried his best to stave off the feeling overcoming him...but it was no use. He balled the note up and put his hands on a workbench next to him.
“What are you doing down here, Wade?” his father's voice boomed and pulled him out of his stupor.
Wade ignored his father, staying faced in the direction of the table. One hands nails dug into the workbench as his father spoke again.
“Damn it, Wade!!!”, his voice called, “I asked you a fucking question. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. DOWN. HERE?”
Wade's hands shook with rage, his teeth clenched in his mouth. He bit into his own cheek and tasted blood. Suddenly, his father's hand was on his shoulder, whipping him around to about face. His father was a big man, about six foot nine and nearly three hundred pounds. William Moor struck his son across the face with a closed fist, knocking him to the floor.
“I asked you a god damn question, Wade”, his father said as he lifted Wade off the floor by the collar of his shirt, “And if you don't want to answer me...I'll just have to beat it out of you.”
William Moor's fist connected with his son's stomach, knocking the wind out of Wade and driving him to his knees. The crumpled note slipped out of Wade's hand and his father took a few steps back.
“Where did you find that?” William asked.
Wade still didn't answer. His body was uncontrollably shaking now.
“I asked you a fucking question!!!” William yelled as he brought another fist down on Wade...
But Wade caught his hand. He wrenched his wrist back and heard the satisfying sound of bone and sinew snapping underneath the pressure. He brought his fist up into his father's nose and heard his nose crunch like a twig. William fell backwards, screeching as his ass hit the ground. Wade pulled himself to his feet as his father attempted to stand again.
“It's your fault...” Wade whispered.
William Moor attempted to speak, but just a gush of blood from his freshly broken nose spewed from his mouth like a smashed tomato.
“Your fault...” Wade whispered again.
More groans from Willaim.
“ITS YOUR FAULT!!!” Wade yelled.
He grabbed a knife off the workbench next to him and drove it straight into his father's chest. William Moor's eyes opened as wide as possible, a silent scream etched across his face. Wade ripped the knife out of his chest and brought it back down hard again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
Until William Moor's eyes opened for the final time. His head slumped back against the concrete floor with a sick thud.
That black look in Wade's eyes remained.
Never vanishing.
Never relenting.
this is a place i cannot be anymore.
Every inch of ground is paved with lies." - One Body Too Many (Winds of Plague)
Scene I: There's Sharks In This Swamp
(Dear Wade,
You have been the most wonderful son a mother could ask for)
The tropical heats beat down on Wade Moor and Jared Holmes as they cut through thickets of brush deep in the Florida Everglades. When Wade was a boy – and sober – this trek always seemed shorter. Now, the trail was covered with years of abandon and the task had become more arduous...but still, they pressed on with those red gripped machete's hacking away at every inch of wildlife in their path.
Wade looked back at Jared, who marched forward with his head and chest held high. Wade smiled at his friend, becoming more impressed with him as the day's drove on. When they had first met, Wade remembered thinking that he must have been part of the group that had initially ambushed him that day. Indeed, he looked the part. Hair coiffed and Hollister fucking jeans...but something about him was different than the others.
(You have always been a bright boy, a brilliant cytologist and a logical thinker. You've grown up to be a strong man and you're becoming more like your father every day.)
Wade saw that day that they were alike in so many ways. Now that he was out here in this shit hole swamp with him to help him on his mission...he knew that they were of the same mind. Looking back at his friend comforted him...it was looking ahead, making their way towards Wade's fathers cabin, that struck him with fright. Wade wasn't sure what to expect when they arrived. He couldn't even begin to imagine what horrors awaited him there.
Or if he was even ready to accept them.
(That's why I had to leave...)
__________________________________________________________________________________________
“Blood alone moves the wheel's of history.
“Have you ever asked yourself in an hour of meditation, just how long you have been striving for greatness? Not only during this time of War, but from the moment as a child that you realized...
“The world could be conquered?
“I will say to you, and you will understand, that it is a privilege to fight. It is a privilege to get your hands dirty. I ask you, the roster of WCF, to rise and be worthy of these historical hours.
“I ask you to rise, so that I may put you right back down in the dirt where you belong. Every leader in this world knows that to take away freedoms and liberties, you give them away one by one. You hand them over to the cattle so that they in turn choose to give them away. They decide to stand up and fight for what's right...and that's your rights. That's your right as living, breathing humans.
“They give you this freedom to fight this War as if your career depended on it...and some of yours do. Some of your careers depend on fighting and reigning victorious in this match. It's what it all boils down to, isn't it? To stand among your peers, fight the good fight, and walk away with a shot at the World Championship? Yeah, that offer is extremely enticing to the few who have been trying their damnedest to make the world take notice. Like you so called men in the DRG? Men like Thomas Bates. Men like Gemini Battle. Men like Deuce Murdock
“Thomas Bates has eyes for nothing but the World Championship. He's all but staked his claim to it without reason why he is deserving of such an accolade. But he just sees gold...leather and his mind is made up. He wants that strap and he won't rest until it is secured around his waist. The Impassable Mountain finally becomes his name sake and he's standing at the top 'where he belongs'?
“Am I wrong? Correct me if I'm wrong, Bates. Please, I implore you to say something that isn't completely hapless drivel. Don't pretend like you haven't been silent on all fronts, outside of your promos of course, on why you even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as the World Championship. You've clammed up. You've stalled out. And for what? What people are whispering behind your back?
“That's some really pathetic shit. Whenever you debuted, you were the second coming of Winston Churchill...at least, you quoted him enough to be thought of as such. You were ready to stand up and fight that good fight. Bring War to everyone's front doors and cut down every man who stood in your way. That sounds like a good life. An honorable life...
“But now you're just the next J. Edgar Hoover. Standing in your room with the lights dimmed and a pair of high heels on pretending you're still the bad ass everyone thought you were. And you were a bad mother fucker, if I'm not mistaken. You may not have accomplished your dream of winning the World Championship as soon as you thought, but hey! You were IN a World Championship match. You were in a spot that most people covet, some thought you were undeserving of, but you took that spot and BY GOD...
“You fucked it up. You really fucked the pooch in that match without the courtesy of a reach around, didn't you? You were all but handed a spot in a World Championship match against Dune...and you did exactly what you're going to do in this War match.
“You froze. You stopped in place. You realized that the plate was a lot bigger, the gold wasn't as bright, and the spotlight was a little more blinding than you thought it would be. Then the whispers turned into roars and you ran away, covering your ears, kicking and screaming...because that's what men do. They turn and run like Jackson White in an Internet Championship match. You think you were cut out for this lifestyle, Thomas Bates? You think you were born to be World Champion?
“I don't even think you were born to be a man. You're still a child. Puffing up your chest, beating that War drum, and proclaiming size is what determines the mettle of a man. I can tell you right now...it's not the size of your arms that determine how far you will go...it's the size of your heart, even if it is as black as mine. You think I give a fuck about you, Thomas Bates? You think The Leviathan cares how big you are? Please, I'll scoop you up, eat you in one bite, and shit you out the opposite end. But you'll proclaim I haven't been here long enough to deserve this shot I'm taking.
“I've been here long enough to know that you're a pussy, Thomas. You choke under pressure. You choke on that dick because it's a lot longer than you thought it was. You thought you could take it all, but you ran out the door screaming rape as soon as you got a taste of it. This is your last chance to try and take it all Thomas...but you still don't have it. You don't have enough in the tank. Everyone's words swallowed your spirit. That's that Tidal Wave I've been talking about.”
“Then you got this Gemini Battle.. The only thing this guy has been battling is relevancy. He did everything he could. He Defiled Logic in Trio's with Bates and Murdock. He tried his absolute best, played every hand he could think of...but now his shit's run out. Now he's just Livewire again. That Grayson Pierce angle because he couldn't pull off that psycho clown shit as well as he thought he could.
“It's a little hard being crazy when crazy just isn't you, is it Gemini? You thought you had it all. The clown make up, the dual personalities, the whacky clothes...but underneath all that, you were just a good boy screaming to get out. You tried to see how far into the depths of depravity you could go just to pull yourself out at the last minute? Story of Gemini Battle's career right there. Pulling out at the last minute.
“You'll never know what it's like to finish in that sweet vag because you're afraid of the consequences. You're afraid of relinquishing any kind of control you have in this life by throwing results three sheets to the wind, aren't ya? That's why you hopped on board with the Defilers of Logic during Trio's. You saw that Thomas Bates came in and made a name for himself just by walking through the door. You saw Deuce Murdock's rising credibility and you hopped on that train quicker than you can say 'Flash beats Dune'.
“BUT...'I'M GEMINI FREAKING BATTLE!!!' you screamed at the top of your lungs! But you didn't really expect anyone to hear you. They paid attention to your little gripes. They decided it was time for this guy to swim...or sink. And sink you did. They put you up against two of WseaF's top stars and you – just like Bates – faltered under that pressure.
“Flash beat you pretty quick. Fool didn't even take off his sweatpants to do it. He yawned when he finished you off. I can't tell if he was bored with the match or if you were just straight up putting him to sleep. I'm going to go with both. Then fast forward to the week after that and Dune was straight up putting you in the ground. A little World Champion burial right before War. That's ritualistic, a serving comeuppance, and just a little indictment of how the brass feels about your momentum.
“Now, you're still screaming and nobody real cares. You gone and capped out. Hit your ceiling. Pulled out just a little too early on that one. Now, even if by some miracle, you last until the end of War and pull out a victory befitting Gemini Battle...what makes you think you can stand up to Flash or Dune again? Especially on the 'Grandest' stage of them all at One? What can you say now to make us believe you're going to win?
“If your answer was nothing, you pretty much got it right. If at first you don't succeed...well, you can just become Livewire again. That seemed to work out so well for you the first time.”
“And then you have Deuce Murdock, who somehow came back from the dead to return just in time for War. That's...odd.
“If you had faked your death just for the sole purpose of a surprise return at War, then that shit was in just poor taste. Poor form. Scarecrow's turning over in his grave right now, hopefully as uncomfortably as possible. People expect guys like me to take the low road because there's plenty of guys trying to take the high road on this one. People who say they're sad to see Scarecrow go, but really they're just glad a spot opened up for them. A spot they themselves would have killed to get.
“In reality, you people should be thanking me for what happened to Scarecrow than shitting on Deuce Murdock for being such a miserable failure and coming back to think he's worth this. He's back and trying to steal your spotlight from you in this War match. He thinks because he was gone for a hot minute, he can come in refreshed with a head full of steam and finally...win the War that's been alluding him all these years.
“But, but, but...this is just the latest chapter in Heartbreak and Heartbreak: The Gonzo Deuce Story. You're more interested in telling the story that happens behind the scenes than bringing a satisfying tale inside of it to fruition. You want people to care about the Deuce Murdock that nobody knows...but these
'fans'? These 'people'? They only care about one thing...and that's how successful you've been inside this squared circle. That's what it all comes down to.
“But you think it's what happens outside that matters, right? That's why most of your promos take place at Huckleberry Farms talking about scrapple or some shit like that. You know what that shows me, Deuce? You have no drive. You have no focus. You have no determination to get the job done when it really counts. That's why your World Championship match against Dune was a total flop. That's why you've lost every championship you've ever held. But you're a former SEAL so you have your pride, right? You have your dignity. That's why you can't find it in yourself to call it a day. You can't just give up and accept that you weren't cut out for this shit, Murdock.
“Being in the ring reminds you of what it was like on the battlefield, except you're not ripping into insurgents brandishing AK-47's. That's the devil you know...but I'm the one you don't know. I'm the demon inside of you and the monster standing in front of you. I'm the Leviathan sneaking up on your SEAL team underwater, waiting to swallow you down in one gulp.
“I'm Death...finally come to exact his pound of flesh...
“And you won't escape me this time.”
Scene II: Blood In My Eyes
(I'm sorry Wade. As much as I don't want it to be true...and as much as it pains me to say this...)
Wade and Jared now stood outside the family cabin, fallen into derelict and disarray since he left it eight years ago. It had weathered it's fair share of storms, but the door was hanging off it's frame and the windows were shattered. Wade couldn't help but think back to the house in Hyde Park. They looked extremely similar in manner, reflecting Wade's own inner turmoil Could it be that Buddy Roman had his thumb on his pulse the entire time?
(It's because of you that I have to leave.)
Wade shivered at the thought.
Not many things would spin Wade into a state of uncontrollable doubt and fear...but what he had been seeing in his nightmares haunted him every day. Now he was here, at his childhood home, to put the nightmare to rest. Scarecrow had killed his father, of that he was certain. The nightmare had been induced by Buddy Roman who was a master of psychology...and a far more sinister than even he let on.
(I look into your eyes and I see they are the same as your father's. Emotionless. Empty. Black.)
Was that the makings of a true monster? Was it not a trauma evoked during puerility? Wade's innocence had been taken away the day he met Cory Cane. The bully Crow had been was enough to make Wade see the world for what it truly was.
A great black pit.
An ocean of hatred and fear.
(You and your father have the eyes of the Devil.)
_________________________________________________________________________________________
“Zombie McMorris.
“I tried so hard to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. You've lived many and not once have you seen exactly what you are. Sure, you have an uncanny ability to seize the world around you, bend it to your will, and make light of things that actually matter. Part of that can contribute to the success you found as leader of The Vapor Kings, one of the hottest stables in WCF.
“But the other half of that would contribute to you being a massive failure. When most people look at Zombie McMorris, they can't help but think he's a joke. A shadow of his former self. A self sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. They look at you and see a wall they can ascend, or crash through depending on their given mood. Brass looks at you and sees somebody they can use to put over their rising talent.
“Jay Omega. Spencer Adams. Deuce Murdock. Joey Flash. Dune.
“Next up, Wade Moor.
“But who else is next on the list? L.A. Kush? Bad News Benson? Jeff Danger? The MacNeill Clan? BioWalker?
“Through Zombie McMorris...all things are possible, right? You're the doorway everyone kicks in to make a name for themselves here because, all things aside, you are a force to be reckoned with in that ring. I know from experience that Zombie McMorris isn't a joke. He can still hang with the best of them, bring the world to it's knees, and unzip his denim shorts to shove that crusty THICK in their faces.
“But the ZMAC that you proclaim to be and the ZMAC that you actually resemble are two very different people. You lack the killer instinct you used to have. When the big Internet Title matches come up, you know that you can seize the day because that's all you were built for. You revolutionized a division...no, fuck, you created it Zombie McMorris. You created an entire division to rule over with an iron fist...
“And yet you're being taken to task by a 'jobber'? Somebody you consider wholly beneath you in every conceivable manner? How does it look for you when the 'jobber' turns around and fucks you? You lose all credibility and you have nobody to blame but yourself. You created the division and you create the monsters that kill you. This is house that ZMAC built...
“And like I told you, I'm going to burn it to the ground.
“I gave you an opportunity, ZMAC. I gave you an opportunity to let me help you. Together, we could have slayed them all. The Leviathan and The Honey Badger standing side by side on a full sail path of destruction? That would have been a sight to see. I would have taught you to tame the high winds, hoist the sails, and bring this federation to it's knees once again. Nobody would have been able to stand up to our collective evil.
“But you turned it down when you decided the Honey Badger just doesn't give a fuck. That's whats wrong with you. The mantra you have been shouting since day one finally came around and bit you on the ass, Zombie. You don't give a fuck and everyone can tell you don't give a fuck. You took to twitter when our first Internet Championship match rolled around and you cried for me, Z.
“You just cried.
“You have forsaken what could have been a very fruitful life in favor of some long gone ideal that it's not 'cool' to give a fuck. ZMAC is all about his self-image, though he will argue to no end that it's not the case. He will fight tooth and nail to make sure 'icon' that is Zombie McMorris isn't sullied in anyway. His own self-preservation holds him back from the success he could have.
“But that self preservation is going to be what ends you, ZMAC. So now, this Sunday, it's The Leviathan versus The Honey Badger in not one, but two matches. I don't care much for Match of the Week, Wrestler of the Week, or even Promo of the Week.
“The only thing I'm going to care about come Sunday Night is putting an end to Zombie McMorris, and I only have one statement left for you:
Scene III: The Devil Inside
(You scare me Wade. Everything you say, everything you do...it resembles your father in so many ways.)
The inside of the cabin was just as frightful as the outside, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, Wade's heart rate accelerated to levels outside of his control. It was like a entirely separate entity inside of him, trying to beat it's way out of his chest, scratching and clawing at his bone and flesh. Wade collapsed to his knees on the kitchen floor and Jared rushed to his side.
“Wade! Wade, what's wrong man?”
(What happened to you, Wade? I can't help but blame myself, even though I know I have no control over this. It was the risk I took by bringing you into this world. I knew exactly the kind of man your father was.)
Wade pulled himself to his feet, using a beaten counter top as support. A black widow spider crawled across his knuckles and scurried away as he lifted himself up. Jared grabbed him underneath the arm for extra support.
“Are you ok, Wade? We should go, man.”
Wade waved his hand back and forth.
“No...no. We've come too far. Just help me to the basement...” Wade pleaded.
Jared looked deep into his forlorn friends eyes...and nodded in affirmation. They slow walked to the basement door, which still hung off it's hinges from Wade kicking it down. Wade moved away from Jared's support and grabbed onto the railing that lead down the stairs. He moved one step...and the railing gave way beneath his strength, cracking in two, and sent Wade spilling down the stairs to the concrete floor below.
(He wasn't the kind to give gifts...but when he gave me you? You were this mother's greatest gift. But now you're her heaviest burden. I can't live in this world with two monsters...I just can't)
________________________________________________________________________________________
“At a very young age, I learned that the concept of a Hero didn't really exist.
“My family lived in squalor, far from the prying eyes of society so that my father could practice whatever manner of science he so wished. We lived in danger every second of every day so that my father could drive himself mad with his fruitless endeavors. Gator attacks were the least of our worries out in the Florida swamps.
“It was the people you had to watch out for. Everyone thinks that I'm in way over my head in the WCF...but this is just a normal week for me. Beaten, bloodied, bruised...I was already familiar with the construct before I even decided to step foot into this business. I had to protect myself every day of my life. Bullies at school. Bullies outside of school. Grown fucking men telling a child that he didn't have a chance in Hell of being a normal member of society.
“Those men were right. I'm not normal, by any stretch of the word. I am damaged beyond belief, and it's all of your faults! You like to point the finger of blame at myself, but I tried like Hell to keep my head screwed on straight...but at every turn, I was beaten into a bloody pulp. Physically and mentally. Every day I spent wishing that a Hero would come and save me from that life.
“But nobody ever came. No knight in shining armor came to slay the dragon. No man in a cape came to whisk away the villain's that plagued me for so long.
“And I learned that none would ever come.
“Men like Teo Del Sol, Spencer Adams, Vic Venable. You think you're heroes? Why? What gives you the dubious honor of proclaiming yourself as such? Because you dress up in tights and fight evil? No...no...it doesn't. You look the part, but it's whats inside that counts.
“Teo Del Sol...why do you wear a mask? Do you cover your face to resemble these so called Heroes, men that dress up to fight the forces of evil? Is it to protect yourself, your identity when you step into the ring? Or is to protect the ones you love from the hate you have become a magnet to?
“You want to know who else wears a mask? Oblivion. Oblivion gallivants around in a mask to hide away the shame he gets from performing his acts of 'evil'. He inflects the hatred upon the mask instead of on the man behind it. It's easier to hate an idol than it is to hate a living human being. A symbol of the madness instead of the person actually committing the heinous unspeakable sufferings.
“So why do you wear the mask, Teo? Everyone has already seen your face. They know you're Teddy Blaze. You failed as a regular wrestler so you escaped from it all. You ran away to Mexico and there you found Lucha Libre. You were reborn in the spirit of men like Rey Mysterio, El Santo, and Eddie Guerrero. You found Lucha Libre like a man would find God and that's where you staked your claim.
“But just like Mil Mascaras, you wear more than one mask don't you? What happens if I rip off your mask Sunday Night? Would you have another one on underneath? Why so many masks, Teo? Are you ashamed of who you are? I mean, you might not come out and say it, but when somebody goes through great lengths to hide who they really are...I can't help but wonder.
“I haven't gone through such extraneous means to hide myself, but you and I are pretty similar Teo. I have #BeachKrew...which is sort of a mask. It's not a literal one, of course...but it does the job. It hides away what people think I am. They think I'm an arrogant frat boy, concerned with nothing but trolling the Internet forums of WCF.com. Good...that's what I want them to think.
“Some people have managed to see through it, though I wasn't really trying to hard to hide it. All they needed to do was pay attention and they would see it slipping through the cracks. The true Wade Moor. The Leviathan. The Devil in the Flesh.
“Nice to meet me.
“You haven't had the misfortune of facing me in the ring yet...but you have been on the business end of Los Tiburones boot a few times already. The most recent being your outing in that steel cage match where Tiburones exposed you for the fool you really are. He predicted your little Habanero Highdive high spot. He predicted you would be too afraid of losing your mask and would forsake anything to hold on to it. He predicted that he would end your title reign and become the SeaV Champion.
“All of those things came to fruition, Teo. He had your number from day one but you couldn't see it through those little slits in your mask. You couldn't see him making a mockery of your lifestyle and then turning around and doing it so much better than you. You couldn't see these things because you were so focused on yourself and swimming to the top...you forgot to look around you for sharks.
“What are you going to do when the Leviathan sneaks up on you? Are you going to hit me with a hurricanrana? I'll just powerbomb you to the mat. Are you going to hit me with a spinning wheel kick? I'll grab you by the legs and throw you out of the ring. Are you going to hit that Habanero Highdive on me? I'll catch you in midair, grab you around the waist, and squeeze the life out of you in the middle of the ring.
“You're no Hero, Teo Del Sol. You're not a bright ray of shining light at the end of a dark tunnel. You're just a beautiful lie...and I am the bitter truth.
“Then you have Spencer Adams. The Antidote, as you call yourself. What exactly have you been sent to cure, Spencer? Do you have some sort of divine mission that nobody knows about? What about your nickname makes you stand out above the crowd?
“Evil still runs rampant in the WCF. Let's face the facts right now...there are far more bad guys than there are good guys in this world. You look at that and see a spot. You see a way to make a name for yourself, fighting off the villainy that plagues these halls...but don't you see that, in itself, is selfish thinking? You don't see yourself as the Hero by nature...you see yourself as a Hero by consequence. You just see a spot you can take because there just aren't that many people vying for it.
“What about that makes you Heroic, Spencer? What about that makes you the underdog? You're just a pathetic, squabbling child trying to put people on notice. You put on the make up, the War paint, to hide away the child that lies underneath. You want them to see the man you present yourself as...but just like me and #BeachKrew, I see right through it.
“That's my inordinate gift...my 'villain'-esque power if you would. I can see right into people's hearts...and if I were to tell you what I see, you wouldn't like what you hear.
“Haven't you figured out that this isn't a fantasy land, Spencer? There are no such thing as 'pushes'. Everything we get in this life, we earn off of merit alone. There is nobody looking out for us, nobody to hand us opportunities, and to get what you want...well, you just have to go out and take it. And what I really want...is to crush 'men' like you under my boot. I want to smash every inch of your face until it is unrecognizable. And trust me when I say I'm going to do something...I'm going to do it.
“Scarecrow was the first in a long line of false Heroes. He was a man who thought he could get the people to rally behind him. Fighting for their love month after month...but what kind of a farce is that? Why do you need to fight for somebodies approval? Fighting is inherently violent...and to fight for the love of the people is just a macabre illusion. One quarter of the people in the crowd go home, get toxic drunk, and beat their wives. Not every person in that crowd is a blank faced saint and to fight for the love of demons is to invite the devil inside.
“I'll tell you something Spencer...you're not going to get any love from me. I'll show you what tough hate is, just like your dear daddy did when you were a boy.
“The Devil's here, Spence. I'm a plague...one that doesn't have an Antidote.
“And then you have Vic Venable. Another weekend warrior. Another false Hero who tries...tries SO HARD to be what doesn't exist. You can't be a Hero and a Villain, Vic. It doesn't work that way. I know what happened to you, Vic. I know your history. It wasn't hard to find newspaper clippings and shoulder through hours of your brother Franky's old matches.
“That's what gave me the edge over you in our first encounter...and it's whats going to give me the edge now. Oh, but you have #BeachKrew figured out now, don't you? We're all wolves in sheep's clothing, right? We're bad men hiding behind arrogant personas and now that you've got it all square, you know what to expect in this War match, right?
“Wrong. Dead wrong, Vic. You peel away the layers of fluff...and you still have wolves. Underneath that, there are sharks. Underneath, even that, there are Leviathans. There are so many layers to #BeachKrew that by the time you get through them all, you're already laid out in the center of the ring eating a pinfall. You never know what to expect from us...because we're unpredictable. Unlike you and the rest of these Heroes. Right here, right now, I'm going to give you the most sound advice you've ever heard in your life, Vic...and it's not to get out of the shadow your brother casts.
“Just quit, Vic. Turn and walk away from this War. You think this is something that you want? You think this is a match that you need? Something to propel you further into some kind of relevancy? Get you out of the shadows and into the spotlight?
“The light casts an even bigger shadow, Vic...and that's where the monsters lurk...and I'm not even talking about me, Vic. I'm talking about men you think are Heroes, just like yourself. How you thought Scarecrow was a Hero and I stained his memory by interrupting that ten bell salute...but if anything, I did him a kindness. I brought forth his darkness for everyone to see. For once, the truth was told about the man named Cory Cane.
“He was a killer. He wasn't any more of a man than you are, Vic. I'm not going to out you for the whole world, Vic...I expect you to do yourself that justice. Tell these people exactly who you are. I'm not afraid of hiding behind a mask.
“So why are all of our Heroes doing it? What do they have to be ashamed of? They aren't who you think they are, the persona they paint for you. #BeachKrew is more heroic than any of you are because we actually tell the truth. Our message is going to reach far and wide after War has come and gone. Nobody will have a choice but to step in line with it...because it's the only ounce of truth they'll ever hear in their whole lives.
“Heroes don't exist.
“And after War, neither will you three.”
Scene IV: You Want To See Something Really Scary?!
(Wade...I couldn't recall a time in my life where you ever frightened me.)
Wade looked up from the ground, a hazy reminder of his memories. He remembered it like it happened yesterday. Scarecrow standing over his father's corpse with that bloody tanto gripped in his hand, a smile spread from ear to ear. His boots scuffed against the floor as he whistled a tune to himself, cleaning the blade off with the end of his duster. Wade tried to climb to his feet, but Scarecrow was already on top of him, his boot pressing hard into his back and shoved him back down to the floor.
This time, it was different. It started to feel more...real. Instead of a hazy dream, it was now a harsh reality. Wade could taste the blood in his mouth, feel the cold floor stinging his face. He could literally smell the open wound in his father's chest and the cold steel from Scarecrow's blade.
He felt calloused hands grab him by the hair and lift his head up, forcing him to look at his father's corpse. Scarecrow bent down to knee, just enough to whisper into Wade's ear...
“You want to see something...really scary, Wade?!”
But it wasn't Scarecrow's voice that came out. It was his own. He turned to face Cory Cane, but instead he was replaced by another version of Wade. A nine years younger Wade stared back at him, his eyes a brilliant shade of black. He held his head up and forced him to watch the events transpire.
(But that look in your eyes...I just can't get it out of my head. There's something buried deep inside you...and I have no intentions of finding out what it is.
Goodbye, my son, my Wade.
Please know that I always loved you.
- Mom)
_______________________________________________________________________________________
“Some would say that I have some rather hefty obstacles to get through in this match. Men who have but staked their claim at the top of this company.
“Men like David Sanchez.
“You have risen to the near top of this company so naturally. You made it seem almost effortless the way you've managed to do it. Beating Thomas Bates for the United States Championship is what really cemented you as a budding main eventer in the WCF. You beat somebody that not a lot of people care for and made it seem effortless. You won that match, won that title, and did what any normal person would do under those circumstances and celebrated your victory. You held that title high as a symbol of what you came from and where you might go...
“But it must have really pissed you off when Seth came out and announced Thomas Bates as a surprise third entrant in the World Championship match scheduled to take place at Revenge. Why? Why Thomas Bates? Didn't you just dispatch him and win the United States Championship without question? Shouldn't it have been you that was granted that World title shot? Thomas Bates was just coming off a fresh loss against YOU.
“Why did he get rewarded and you drew the short straw? That doesn't seem like a legitimate, cohesive decision made by Seth Lerch if I've ever seen one. We all know Lerch isn't the one to make the most cohesive decisions. He knew putting Bates in a World Championship match was a safe bet, that he would never be the one to take it away from Dune.
“But you...you possibly could have. You might have just been the one to take the title off of Dune. You're more than up to task for it. David Sanchez could be the future of the Wrestling Championship Federation...You know what I said about dreams and destinies? That applies to you too. Maybe more so than anybody else because there dreams are all false hopes they feed to themselves so they can catch a wink of sleep at night. But yours have an honest chance of coming to fruition...
“That was until The Leviathan came around, David.
“I'm not afraid of men like you. Men that use their physical stature as a means of dominance...but that's just half of my game. The other half is getting inside your head. Sure, you're good at cutting people down. You've got the talk down. Your words cut like knives, don't they?
“But I know your weakness, David.
“And the bitches name is Lady Knives. Sometimes, the measure of a man isn't what's inside of him. It's whats on the outside. Vain depictions of what life actually is. Yours comes in the form of your wife, the only person in this life that you've brought yourself to love.
“She's prevalent in your promos like words to a book. She helps you cut your opponents down to size in a way that you wouldn't be able to achieve of your own volition. She does all your homework for you so all you have to do is show up and be the brooding shit brick house that you are. That's all you're designed for.
Eat.
Sleep.
Conquer.
Repeat.
“But what if something were to...happen to Lady Knives? What if she was to go precariously missing before the event? What would you do then, David? Would you be able to keep focus long enough to win the event? Could you keep your head on straight long enough to come out of War the decisive victor?
“Don't worry, nothing is going to happen to your beloved. I just want you to know that the option is on the table. It could happen...but I don't want it to. I want you to be at your absolute best whenever I destroy you David. All that momentum you've been building over these passed few months? I'm going to take it all away from you. I'm going to steal it from you David. I'm going to take the other half of you that matters. I don't need to take away Knives to get inside of your head, David. I just need to break you down in the ring come Sunday night.
“I know you're one of the biggest threats in this match. You have a killer instinct only matched by the men in #BeachKrew. You're going to be the biggest notch on my belt come this weekend and I'm going to get that notch...
“Even if I have to kill you for it.
“Then you have Occulo. A name from the past looking to make his return at other people's expense...
“But your weakness is simple Occulo. You have no staying power. You crumble in big matches...like you crumbled in your only United States Championship defense you ever had. You spent months eluding an actual title defense. You were called out by several people...and then finally when the pressure started to build up, you accepted those shots to the bow.
“You entered into a triple threat match against Kaz Mazy and Snapz. You guys fought tooth and nail through the arena, beating the absolute hell out of each other through the arena. Then Kaz Mazy nailed both you and Snapz with the Kami-KAZ-I and didn't even have respect enough to pin you. He had you both dead to rights, but instead he threw his arm over Snapz instead. Snapz. A fucking imbecile who strong armed his way into a title match only to fall under the might that was Kaz Mazy.
“That was your legacy, Occulo. That's what you left behind before you disappeared off the face of the planet. A failed title defense and nothing to cling to whenever you made your long awaited return. Now you're here in this War match with me. You've never met me...but I know everything about you.
“I'm going to make you wish you never came back, Occulo. This won't be your big return where you show the world what you're made of. This won't be a Occulo's comeback story. This isn't some legendary return from Occulo.
“That's just not the way this story was meant to happen.
“Ever.
“It was never your destiny to win War. You can stand there and puff out your chest as much as you want, but it's never going to happen. You'll falter under pressure just like you've always done. That's just the way it was always meant to happen.”
Scene V: Nine Years Ago...
Wade stood in his father's basement, a room he was never allowed to enter under any circumstances. A piece of paper was crumpled in his fist and his face was red with anger, hate, guilt...shame. He had read the note over and over again, trying to make sense of it all...but he couldn't. His mind wouldn't allow it. He tried his best to stave off the feeling overcoming him...but it was no use. He balled the note up and put his hands on a workbench next to him.
“What are you doing down here, Wade?” his father's voice boomed and pulled him out of his stupor.
Wade ignored his father, staying faced in the direction of the table. One hands nails dug into the workbench as his father spoke again.
“Damn it, Wade!!!”, his voice called, “I asked you a fucking question. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. DOWN. HERE?”
Wade's hands shook with rage, his teeth clenched in his mouth. He bit into his own cheek and tasted blood. Suddenly, his father's hand was on his shoulder, whipping him around to about face. His father was a big man, about six foot nine and nearly three hundred pounds. William Moor struck his son across the face with a closed fist, knocking him to the floor.
“I asked you a god damn question, Wade”, his father said as he lifted Wade off the floor by the collar of his shirt, “And if you don't want to answer me...I'll just have to beat it out of you.”
William Moor's fist connected with his son's stomach, knocking the wind out of Wade and driving him to his knees. The crumpled note slipped out of Wade's hand and his father took a few steps back.
“Where did you find that?” William asked.
Wade still didn't answer. His body was uncontrollably shaking now.
“I asked you a fucking question!!!” William yelled as he brought another fist down on Wade...
But Wade caught his hand. He wrenched his wrist back and heard the satisfying sound of bone and sinew snapping underneath the pressure. He brought his fist up into his father's nose and heard his nose crunch like a twig. William fell backwards, screeching as his ass hit the ground. Wade pulled himself to his feet as his father attempted to stand again.
“It's your fault...” Wade whispered.
William Moor attempted to speak, but just a gush of blood from his freshly broken nose spewed from his mouth like a smashed tomato.
“Your fault...” Wade whispered again.
More groans from Willaim.
“ITS YOUR FAULT!!!” Wade yelled.
He grabbed a knife off the workbench next to him and drove it straight into his father's chest. William Moor's eyes opened as wide as possible, a silent scream etched across his face. Wade ripped the knife out of his chest and brought it back down hard again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
Until William Moor's eyes opened for the final time. His head slumped back against the concrete floor with a sick thud.
That black look in Wade's eyes remained.
Never vanishing.
Never relenting.
