#LetNobodyIn #TunaOnRye

[Wade Moor]

Part I: Can I Come In?

Wade Moor sat alone in the WINO-bago; that world title rested, perched elegantly over his large shoulder, as it’s lord and master enjoyed the last embers of a dying blunt. It was unusual to see Wade in such a still, contemplative pose. The man had always been one second away from a twitch or a murmur; he was never still, as if avoiding the gaze of history; lest he be caught in the headlights of recrimination; past transgressions always one step away.

His rise was nothing short of meteoric; and yet, pieces remained missing. At One he had decimated Grayson Pierce; so much so that Grayson felt the urge to now change tactics and form a rag tag group of misfits in a desperate attempt to somehow combat the sweeping tide of #Beachkrew. It was a futile gesture from a broken challenger; Wade found the whole attack last week amusing, not least because it saw Rabid on the end of another loss.

Two in a row to be exact; that would be alarming if it wasn’t so...comforting. Perhaps it would take a falter by those around him, but he wasn’t unbeatable. He moved around the ring in a form of primal rage, contrast to his physicality outside of it. He was soft spoken, calculating, manipulative... but the man could be beaten after all, and the thought of it made Wade's heart pound like a beating bass drum.

THUD!

'But why?', he pondered.

Why did the thought of thrashing someone that he had come to think of as a compatriot trigger this level of emotion from The Leviathan? This heartless creature, suddenly having a heart and – dare he say – emotion? Wade puffed on the roach once more before squashing it out under his boot. He felt the heavy weight of the World Championship gold slung over his shoulder once more, and that black heart pound against his breast bone in a sign of affiance.

                                            THUD!

Wade knew the World Championship was to blame for this. He had heard from others when he was training to step foot in the ring that holding the World Championship had a way of changing people. It crept up on you, morphed you from the inside out...and Wade's match against the legend Torture was the first sign. After their match, Torture extended his hand...and Wade shook it.

'But why?'

THUD!

Were there emotions that Wade didn't even know he was capable of feeling, buried somewhere in the deep? He looked down at his damaged hand missing a thumb, firmly wrapped in a leather gauntlet that produced a faux digit, and remembered everything he had lost. All the humiliation, all the sacrifice, all the scrutiny...he had overcome every ounce of it, but it didn't go quietly, and it took more then his thumb with it.

He had beaten people that he spared little to no emotion for; but now the challenge was different. Now it was a man he was supposed to be friends with, coming after what he had because Seth Lerch asked if he wanted to. There had been no hesitation from Rabid, only a nod of the head and a signature. No precursor conversation, just that same rehearsed smile from Rabid – the Spider from Mars. Entangling yet another one of #BeachKrew in his web...But he forgot that this one knew how to fight back. He was hunting the hunter...

And the hunter had Champion's Advantage.

                                                                           THUD!

The last THUD brought Wade out of his meditation as it sent shock waves through the WINO-bago. He turned in his seat and looked out the side window. Far across the parking lot of the rest stop they stopped in, Kyle Kemp was throwing a series of fast pitches to Johnny Rabid. Even from his spot two hundred yards away, Wade could see those white teeth of Rabid's beaming through the cold air between them.

THUD!

Another ball hit the side of the WINO-bago and Wade moved from the couch to the door, slowly creaking it open. Before him on the ground lay five well placed baseballs, as if Rabid had intended to land them in the same spot each time. Wade looked across the lot again, his hand over his eyes to block the sun now creeping in through the clouds. Rabid had the tip of the bat on the ground, leaning against it like a cane, that same empty smile twisting up from the roots of his darkness.

“Knock knock, Wade!”

Rabid's voice hissed in the back of Wade's mind like a migraine. He knew he hadn't seen Rabid's lips move, but Wade also knew of another he could speak to this way.

“So...you wanna try for that tuna on rye?”

Wade smirked, a smile creeping up the side of his thick cheek as well.

“Try? No John, I don't 'try'”, Wade replied and slammed the door shut behind him.

---

CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
*buzz static*

“Hello...”

Wade's voice cut through the darkness like lightning in the sky.

“And welcome to another exciting edition of Wade brutalizes his opponents this week. Whose on the docket this time? Henson and Pheonix? It doesn't matter, really. Your names could be interchanged with any other two in this whole federation and it still wouldn't matter, because the outcome will likely be the same...

“LOL, #BEACHKREW WINS”

A bevy of laughter erupts from the old style recording, sending that mandatory shiver curling up your spine.

“So what miserable excuse are you two going to come up with getting out of the match this week? We all know Pheonix is as much of a wrestler as Henson is a psychiatrist. I swear Pheonix has been here for a year now and she's wrestled about two full matches. Maybe you should sit her down and ask her why Henson? Find out why Pheonix can NEVER GET THE JOB DONE.

“It's remarkable really, how one can spend so much in the WSeaF, never prove their worth, and still have a place on the payroll. Maybe that's why this companies in the shit financially? I know for sure it isn't #BeachKrew's fault. We're here, every night, and whether you love us or hate us...you're paying to see us. You either want to watch us thrash these fucking plebeians, or watch them squeeze into their little panties just to make their way out to the ring.

“What is this shit, for real? Is this Seth trying to get us to cut the dead weight? He didn't know how to fire you so he's hoping Rabid and I cripple you instead? Because that's whats going to happen...we're going to destroy you two. It's...it's what we do.

“And you two? You two will spend the majority of Slam jerking each other off and doing absolutely nothing of note. Anything you two can do as 'Head' of Talent so and so? #BeachKrew has done it, and did it ten times better. I don't know if either of you believe in God, but Godnilla is real...

“...and Godnilla's going to kill you.”

*buzz static*
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST