The Other Half Of The Truth: Part II

[John Rabid]

1.The Change Up

WCF Towers: 12/23/15

Seth Lerch sat at his desk; he wondered why the dark oak wood seemed newer than he had originally remembered it, perhaps it had undergone a polish recently since his departure. Also, someone had adjusted the damn swivel chair, Seth had given express instructions for that not to happen. That could only mean one man was responsible.

Johnny Rabid.

Seth had spent the last few days mulling over his next move; ever since the incident on “WCF-ONE”; Lerch knew that his reality was under siege; someone on that flight had slipped in the photograph of Hank Brown’s bleeding, crumpled form into that manilla envelope. Seth contemplated just hiring new staff for the plane; but in all honesty, he knew that such a move would do no good; Rabid would infiltrate them again without much fuss. He was quite adept at orchestrating coups was this Mister Rabid; his documented history would seem to indicate he thrived on the challenge.

Seth leaned back in his chair and snarled at the height reduction; the photograph of Hank in his hands; while Seth was never that sentimental about his staff; those that were loyal to him did require protection; a lesson learned from his days contemplating his future behind bars after Jonny Fly’s ruinous vengeance.

So, what to do...

“He’s here, Sir”, announced the receptionist; her voice had a joyful buoyancy to it that Seth was not accustomed to; he had heard of Rabid’s strange reign; a self appointed role in Jared’s absence. That massive pay out to every member of staff had angered Lerch to his very core, but it did signal the death of Pantheon, so perhaps in hindsight, he would have made the same move if the result could be guaranteed. Then again, probably not; the very notion of a bonus made bile boil in the boss man’s slender; alcohol soaked stomach.

Seth Lerch: Good, make sure he comes up here, immediately.

Receptionist: Sorry sir; he’s off to address the crew.

Seth Lerch: Sorry?

Receptionist: Yes Sir; at the party he’s organised.

There’s a party? Of course there is...#beachkrew.

Seth Lerch: And where the fuck is this, and who’s paying for it?

Receptionist: It's at the training annex sir; the rings have been converted into lap dancing zones; we get sprayed with water hoses for added effect. I’ve been practicing for weeks for this, there’s a thousand large riding on it; me and my hips are the hot favourites; which reminds me, I gotta--

Go. The line went dead.

Seth Lerch: Hey! Wait! Who’s paying for...this...

Seth sat back in his chair and contemplated ruining the madness; but instead decided to check out the chaos on his closed circuit television feed; he switched channels on his plasma screen and flipped a switch on a large, NES like paddle remote control.

= = = = = = = = = =

Static then a sharp focus greeted Seth’s snooping vision; the system was antiquated, a mass of wires and circuitry whose previous home was probably a skip outside the Wategate hotel; still, some tape and a little dash of ingenuity later meant eyes were on the annex. It was a pink and black landscape; strobe lights flashed through foam and lasers. The sound from the camera’s speakers came and went with a haphazard sense of purpose, but from what Seth could make out, Johnny Rabid held court; relaxed, in control; Rabid smiled as he held a microphone in the centre of one of the training rings, flanked on either side by the Receptionist and Marjorie: from costume design, the slender, youthful women wore bikini tops and thongs, gyrating next to a neatly suited Rabid, who somehow managed a faux sense of embarrassment; a blush here and an “oh my!” there; it was as if Benny Hill was still alive and had hit the weights. While Seth sat alone, a king locked in his own tower.

Rabid addressed the amassed crowds; everyone from the back was here; Rabid had treated them well. Too well for Seth’s tastes, but that was always the plan, treat them with kindness, get them on his side. Make his role within the company more than just a man in tights hitting things. Rabid studied the greats; Logan, Fly, Torture. You want to be more in the WCF? Then do more. Aim higher. That was the key. Aiming higher coincidently was always Rabid’s raison detre. He would force majeure his way to the top wherever he would go. And do so with gusto.

Rabid cleared his throat and began to speak;

Johnny Rabid: I’d just like to start by saying how much it has been an honor to contribute to the leadership of this company; you people here are the spine that allows us to walk the world. Without you, I would just be a man dreaming of a place such as this, while working a gym hall in Poughkeepsie, new jersey...or Southport, England. Trust me, Southport is a hell you never want to imagine.

There’s a spattering of laughter. Rabid is building up to something here.

Johnny Rabid: I wanted to make this official as soon as possible; I’m stepping down as leader of #Beachkrew.

Silence underpinned with an air of confusion resonates across the hall.

Johnny Rabid: I know that there’s plenty of you out there that didn’t consider me the leader of the faction to begin with; but let me make it known that it was still my honor to do so. I have a new challenge now however, one still linked with the team I am proud to be part of. I’d like to clarify with you the details; but it’s still awaiting the signatures on the paperwork to dry, so we’ll move on from that. I just want to say however, that there’s been a misunderstanding over the last few weeks. And it’s important that you all realise the actual truth.

Seth leaned forward, what was Rabid cooking up here?

Johnny Rabid: Seth Lerch...

A chorus of boos...

Johnny looks up and waves at the closed circuit camera; Seth recoils, as if on instinct.

Johnny Rabid: Hi Seth!

The boos stop.

Johnny Rabid: He can hear us by the way, not very well, but he can definitely hear these cheers for his name. You know...”these cheers for his name?”

A rapacious wave of applause breaks out, fuelled by sense of total and unequivocal fear.

Johnny Rabid: Now, onto that island of truth we need to discover. A few weeks ago I stated that this was a new era for the WseaF; one brought to you exclusively by #Beachkrew. While the instigation for the bonus was indeed on us; we still needed to send it past your illustrious leader. Dot those I’s, cross those T’s.

Seth Lerch: WHAT?

Johnny Rabid: Seth is a good man, a changed man; his sabbatical was a learning process for him. He came back wiser and stronger. But I think also....at peace. Peace. It’s a word rarely used around the man I know; but I feel that's an astute call if I say so myself. He’s at peace. With this company, with this business, and with all of you. The payout is just a monetary expression of his concern for you. He wants you to be happy. Work hard, yes. But to do so in a healthy and harmonious environment. And since it’s Christmas; well, fuck it--lets have some fun!

In one fell swoop, Seth Lerch: the monster, the monolith of terror inside WCF towers...had been de-clawed. Killing with kindness had never been the bullet Seth he considered would be his undoing, but sure enough; it was at this instant. Rabid had turned a man who ruled though fear and intimidation into a fraud of the cuddly kind. A humble philanthropist that secretly cared for his workforce; they’d all be searching for a raise now within a week. It was nothing sort of a calamity.

Seth Lerch just shook his head; turned off the flat screen and awaited the arrival of Rabid.

= = = = = = = = = =

Seapunk thumped its way through the halls and corridors of the building. The door to Seth’s office opened as Rabid silently entered. Seth was a man of flesh and shadow; brooding in the half darkness. Rabid waited to be offered a seat before motioning further forward into the domain he cherished with a maniacal sense of ownership. None came; he would have to take that step himself, Seth would not invite him in.

Seth Lerch: Problem?

Rabid didn’t answer, he just simply walked into the room; not sitting down but standing.

Seth Lerch: You had a lot to say at this party of yours. Not so much now. Why is that? Oh wait, let me guess; you’re reading the situation. Here’s the situation; you fucking crossed the line with me. That means I’m going to break you; destroy you in ways I can’t even fucking begin to fathom right now. No one comes into my company and attempts to usurp me. You think your ploys are clever? I wonder how clever you’ll think they are once I’m finished with you; dissecting you like a fucking lab rat.

Johnny Rabid: Wait.

Seth Lerch: For what? FOR WHAT? For every brick and mortar in this place to collapse round my ears? Look at you, you know don’t you? You HAVE TO...this is play of yours, it’s too clever a move; too smart; you’ve just dealt your hand out of the game and now you have no choice but to fold. At ONE I’m going to take great pleasure in watching you snap and break in that TLC match; It’s Spencer Adams now to lose, we both know that. He’s an ambitious boy, a virgin bed wetting prick, but still...useful. That ambition of his; I can twist that some more I think; maybe Hatcher’s too; the king of the jungle with his wild, fanciful ideas on being a mastermind genius of the sport. At least Hatcher’s smart enough to know he has no hope in hell of winning this match, but he still might prove useful enough to take under my wing. Take your spot at the end of my table. Deal with my scraps like a good little puppy dog. Hatcher can’t win this match for shit but he can stoke up a fire under the lower card with my help. It's not that bad of a ceiling to live under; a few choice words from me and I’ll anesthetize the situation for him; you however, no anesthetic; I’m gonna cut you open awake!

Johnny Rabid: Hatcher’s fate doesn’t need you to help it along; he’s doing a stand up job all on his own of failing spectacularly; you know why a man like Hatcher fails? Because he’s fighting a war on two fronts; he wants the success; but not the weight of responsibility that comes with that, so he scuppers his own dreams just so he can be on the cusp of greatness, yet never have to worry about the day to day struggle of retaining it. That's what I do, Seth. I struggle; I fight and claw my way to the top.

Seth Lerch: Bullshit. You’re a locust. You ravage territories and feast upon the misery you cause. I can respect that...from a distance. But when you bring that here? I have to deal with it. Personally. Spencer or maybe even an Adam Young..

Johnny Rabid: HA!

Seth Lerch: The Thickness...I can deal with them. I can control that whirlwind. Bobby wants back in; it can work, I can make that work.

Johnny Rabid: You want stability to remain?

....

Seth Lerch: Listening.

Johnny Rabid: I take it you heard the part when I announced my stepping down as leader of #Beachkrew? Over the past few months I think it’s been clear that we’re been “out of synergy” with each other, Seth. You, and the rest of my team don’t seem to see eye to eye. But what if I could promise a change? Think of the true halcyon days of this company; they all coincided with a strong right hand for it’s illustrious leader. A Team of Treachery. A Team of Torture. #Beachkrew can be that for you. Your strong right hand.

Seth Lerch: Bullshit. It’s fragmenting. Falling apart. Because of you.

Johnny Rabid: Soon it will be at it’s pinnacle; a new zenith. Those tag team titles will remain with us. The world title will remain with us; once the dust settles post ONE; the order of things will fall neatly into place. A world where we are established on a new, unstoppable plateau; while the People’s Choice breaks under the yoke of our success. They can’t compete with us on an even playing field, not that we’re stupid enough to fall for that; but still, even if we followed their precious hollow mantra of fairplay for all, we’d still win, because yuppies and politicians are not soldiers when they need to be, they’ll always have that soft center. They crumble when you need steel. They’ll falter when you need fortitude. Preecha Kamon? Petrili? The deaf blunt instrument and the worthless tool? What hope do they offer, besides a clear, easy run for a Thickness no one remembers nor cares about. Now, at this very moment, we...#Beachkrew are the only option you have because we are here. Right now. The best group of professional wrestlers on the planet today. We have the motivation; but we also have something else.

Seth Lerch: Which is?

Johnny Rabid: You. We have you. I can be a hero for you, and I can be a villain. Right now? You need me to be a villain; the man that keeps the troops in line. The face in the background that can make people...disappear. You think everyone at that party was cheering me because of a stupid bonus? It was fear, Seth. The same fear you welded. And can again in just a few short weeks; just a simple twist of the knife, and I can reset all the clocks for you. It’s easy for me; it’s what I was born to do. We have you Seth, but you, you can call on us too. It’s a symbiosis. You know...

Seth Lerch: Yes, I know what that means. I still, there’s a missing piece I need to know before I make my decision.

Johnny Rabid: And what would that be?

Seth Lerch: How did you get in here...without being invited?

Seth held up the photograph of Hank Brown; those two strips of blood running down his cheek; like fangs on a--

Johnny Rabid: Force of will, Mister Lerch. Force of will. It runs deep through my veins. I take it from others whenever it is necessary. Humanity; the most powerful drug in their is. I strip it’s marrow, for it is a delicate, sweet thing when plucked from the weak. That’s why I’m part of #Beachkrew Mister Lerch...it’s good to be among the strong. For they have nothing to fear from me; unless of course...they falter.

2.The Road Home

The DB 9 raced against the night. Rabid behind the wheel as he drove towards the staples center. The Tag Team just listened in silence; that Allegretto played it’s dark overture as both men contemplated the baseball diamond. The owls. And their most important of victories. Kemp looked out over the LA Skyline and held a strange sense of power in his grasp. As if he was immune to a great virus that plagued the rest of the poor, undeserving slobs out there. He truly was better. Forged in a fire that made him steel.

Kemp listened to the Allegretto; he’d heard the piece a few times; but he never felt the need to conduct it, until now; a moment passed before his hand began to wave gently in time with the music. As if the universe was at his feet.

Kyle Kemp: I don’t think I’ve ever heard this before...Mister WCF Liaison.  

Rabid shrugged.

Johnny Rabid: Not many have, not really. You can accomplish great things to Beethoven. Almighty horrors.

Kyle Kemp: So, you have a new office now, back in Pennsylvania?

Johnny Rabid: Kyle, my friend. I have ALWAYS had an office. You should see the view, ask Jared to come along. It encompases EVERYTHING.

They continued their journey, the TLC match awaited them. As did their horrors. Oh such great and wondrous horrors to behold.