Who... what... when... where... why?
Dec 27, 2015 16:57:35 GMT -5
Torture, Joey Flash, and 1 more like this
Post by Corey Black on Dec 27, 2015 16:57:35 GMT -5
Who is Creeping Death?
At first glance, it's Corey Black.
One minute into your experience, though, you'll quickly come to realize this isn't Corey Black at all.
This being is darker.
More sadistic.
Just plain fucked up.
So where is Corey Black, then? Isn't Creeping Death just Corey with face paint?
The fairy tales goes like this.
When Corey Black was young, like real young, four or five years old, he saw something he probably has no business seeing. Corey had two siblings. An older brother and a younger sister. No longer living on this planet because of a drunk. A man that donated semen to Corey's mother and created three babies. It was then, with two lifeless bodies laying beside him, that Corey Black fell by the wayside and Creeping Death emerged. Blow after blow, a child swinging a baseball bat against the head of a grown man doesn't seem like it would do much damage, but a drunk grown man will indeed fall down the stairs and break his neck upon hitting the ground.
It's like something you'd see in a movie, or in your worst nightmare, but Corey lived it. His mother would remarry, his step=father was equally as shitty, and in high school Corey would lose his mother and second father in a car accident. Creeping Death was back, the jocks that would pick on him at school all ended up with broken bones and faces.
That's the thing about Creeping Death that WCF doesn't understand. This isn't Corey Black. When Creeping Death has control of the body, Corey Black is locked away in a jail-type cell in his own mind. The consciousness lives on within the mind. It's a type of schizophrenia. Traumatic experiences trigger the being known as Creeping Death. Except this time - this time it's different.
Corey Black and Creeping Death working together to eliminate the fucker known as Torture.
At first glance, it's Corey Black.
One minute into your experience, though, you'll quickly come to realize this isn't Corey Black at all.
This being is darker.
More sadistic.
Just plain fucked up.
So where is Corey Black, then? Isn't Creeping Death just Corey with face paint?
The fairy tales goes like this.
When Corey Black was young, like real young, four or five years old, he saw something he probably has no business seeing. Corey had two siblings. An older brother and a younger sister. No longer living on this planet because of a drunk. A man that donated semen to Corey's mother and created three babies. It was then, with two lifeless bodies laying beside him, that Corey Black fell by the wayside and Creeping Death emerged. Blow after blow, a child swinging a baseball bat against the head of a grown man doesn't seem like it would do much damage, but a drunk grown man will indeed fall down the stairs and break his neck upon hitting the ground.
It's like something you'd see in a movie, or in your worst nightmare, but Corey lived it. His mother would remarry, his step=father was equally as shitty, and in high school Corey would lose his mother and second father in a car accident. Creeping Death was back, the jocks that would pick on him at school all ended up with broken bones and faces.
That's the thing about Creeping Death that WCF doesn't understand. This isn't Corey Black. When Creeping Death has control of the body, Corey Black is locked away in a jail-type cell in his own mind. The consciousness lives on within the mind. It's a type of schizophrenia. Traumatic experiences trigger the being known as Creeping Death. Except this time - this time it's different.
Corey Black and Creeping Death working together to eliminate the fucker known as Torture.
It's a cold and snowy day, a field that is empty except for the foot or so of snow on the ground. A man walks into focus dressed in all black. Trees in the distance sway and crack under the stress of snow and wind. Corey Black stands alone in this baron piece of land. He kneels down to the ground, placing one hand on into the snow and touching the Earth below. Slowly day turns to night and clouds roll in. Dark clouds dropping rain, not snow, onto the pasture. A flash of lightning crashes, whiting out all vision, and when it returns a tall bell tower stands where nothing was before. Corey huddles up and heads inside, knowing full well what he must do. Up the spiral staircase which is lined in claw marks made from human fingernails and bloodstained stairs, to the door at the top and through it giving access to the bell itself. Corey sighs and places his hand on the bell, whispering to himself.
Corey's face turns from flesh color to white, black markings adorn his eyes and mouth.
Creeping Death is here.
Creeping Death
Jonny Fly and Torture, two men very prevalent in Corey Black's life. Two men that signed their death wish for One. For someone that knows Corey so well, Jonny Fly is a madman if he thinks he can just waltz back in here and assist the biggest man-baby around in a war. That's what this is, a war on all the bullshit Torture has done this year. Maybe three actual matches total, holding precious WCF gold hostage. I made that Hardcore Title what it is today, I made WCF what it is today, and Torture thinks he can shit all over that and make it all into one big joke so he can stroke his own ego, get himself off and laugh all the way to the bank with a high profile One match. A One match that is ONLY high profile because I am involved. Nobody gives a fuck about Torture, or Jonny Fly, or really even Jayson Price. He was asleep most of the year. But even then, he has contributed more to the growth and sustainability of WCF than Torture has in the last 5 years.
Corey Black beat this bitch two years ago and it wasn't even a contest. That vanilla douchebag that thinks he actually made an impact and it wasn't all me. Wiped the floor with Torture and didn't even break a sweat. What makes Torture think he can SURVIVE me? No games this round. No silly songs or convoluted matches will save you from your inevitable death tonight, Torture. I've waited years to get my hands back around your throat and give you the payback you deserved. We were a tripod, and you fucked us. You scarred Nate so bad he's an announcer twice a year. One of my very best friends - not wrestling once in a tean year period - all because you had to have the spotlight. You couldn't share the top with the rest of The Dynasty. 1-8-08, you couldn't play second fiddle and then in This_is_War you couldn't handle being third wheel. Three times in my life you've plunged a knife right into my back, and every time I was sure you had changed. I was positive you'd figure out you were always the Robin to my Batman, but instead you can't take being second best. How do you feel now that you're second best on a team and fourth best in a match during One?
Then there's the savior of the day, Jonny Fly. Nice to see you at XIII chief, glad you took your nuts out of Orbit's back pocket and stood up for WCF against BeachKrew. It's too bad you weren't man enough to help Steve out when I was dropping him on his skull and pinning his ass for the one, two, three. You sat back and watched me absolutely brutalize Steve Orbit, beat him within an inch of his life, and you still agreed to team with fucking Torture to fight me. Unbelievable. You're here to get that nostalgia pop now, you're nothing more than a sideshow. Same with Torture, maybe you two really are a match for each other. No longer are you feared among WCF wrestlers. I could give a shit less who you were, all I know is that you're a bitch and I'm going to fuck your life up. Whatever life you have nowadays, that is. I heard you fell on some pretty hard times. I guess that WCF contract really did factor a role in your life, now didn't it? You're welcome. WCF can't pay fluff like you if it wasn't for me. You owe all the fame you seem to have, which let's be honest, is little more than a 'woo' from some smark on the message boards now, you owe that one woo to me.
You're still pissed about Corey doing his best to keep Pantheon going? How old of news is that? Every last one of those ungrateful fuckholes bolted when the heat got too hot. He was willing to give them the world, just like he did for you and Purse and the rest, and not a single one appreciated it. So it goes in life, right Jonny? Black gave you the best years you'd ever have in this company, he was there for you every step of the way, and you turn around - leave - and then come back on some kind of white knight bullshit with fuckin' Torture. Get - the fuck - out of town with this. I don't even care about this crap but I want to break your skull because of it. I'm not above cutting a motherfucker up with a giant blade, but I'd NEVER fuck someone over so hard and talk such mad shit about someone I claimed to give a damn about. I'd never have that problem because I don't give a damn about anyone, but if I did, rest assured I'd never fuck them over. You're basically Torture 2.0 but with less credentials somehow. Best WCF has ever seen. Please.
Are you guys going to team up and write some cute song about me? That's what you're best known for in 2015. Being a couple of fucking pop-culture wannabes. Not talented enough to wrestle in WCF, barely competent enough to be discount Weird Al. Torture has a hero's welcome with a mongoloid brother who he exploits to get on talk shows and podcasts, Jonny Fly regarded as champion of champions with an illegitimate child he blamed on Jordan Caliban and assaulted his own mother on live TV. Real fucking role models we have here, kids. I'll do WCF and the world a favor by eliminating these two leeches from existence.
What you two "legends" fail to understand is that I am the actual one and only legend. I am WCF, and I am NOT Corey Black. I'm better. I'm stronger, I'm faster, and I will do what it takes to get the job done. He's beat you before, Torture, and he's come damn close to you, Jonny, but I'm going to finish the job. It's just too bad it wasn't that fat fuck Logan. He's too much of a bitch to show his face anyway, I'd drain his blood and wear his carcass like Buffalo fucking Bill.
Back in the day, when wrestlers were fucking warriors and not multi-millionaires with mansions in New York and clothing lines based in LA, Creeping Death was still a name that would stop a man in his tracks. But now with Twitter and Instagram, the mystique has trailed off. I'm less of a warrior and more of a fairy tale. It's time for this WCF fairy tale to step out of the history books and into the ring one more time. This is the end of an era. The final showdown. But not for me, this is the end for Torture and Jonny Fly. So let it be written, so let it be done.
CD yanks on a nearby rope, which in turn swings the bell and causes it to release an overwhelming sound.
Creeping Death
The bell, gentlemen, tolls for you.
