Post by Wade Moor on Jan 31, 2016 4:48:16 GMT -5
Prologue: King Jeremy, The Wicked
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And so he did.
Jeremy loaded up, and from his bedroom window he looked to the moon.
That unwavering moon.
That hungry, ravenous moon.
It was going to bed for now. For now. But when it woke up tomorrow night? It wouldn't be hungry anymore. He and Wade would see to it.
Jeremy smiled.
Wade was with him now. Always. An all seeing eye.
Jeremy liked it that way. It was comforting. Jeremy checked the rounds of the weapon he retrieved from his father's safe.
Getting the key wasn't a problem. Jeremy's father lay on the floor of the kitchen, his throat slit, the blood mixing with the suds of a shattered beer bottle on the floor in front of him, and his gun safe key nestled safely in Jeremy's pocket.
His mother screamed, so Jeremy put her out of her misery too. No more sadness, no more guilt, no more anguish...his mother was now free of the burden of motherhood, just like she had always wanted.
Jeremy smiled.
The moon squealed. He liked it when the moon did that. The moon was like a friend now that Wade had introduced them. It was overjoyed when he freed his parents, but it wasn't satisfied. And Jeremy wanted to satisfy the moon. He knew what he had to do. He knew where he had to go. Jeremy waited until the sun rose, and he was sad to see his friend go.
But it was going to happen soon...and the moon would be happy when it woke up.
Jeremy smiled.
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Jeremy felt Wade's words fill him up, and he knew immediately what he wanted, what he required.
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
*buzz static*
“Do you think I've forgotten what you've done to my Krew, Jayson? Did you think I was going to let that slide? Or perhaps you were hoping that I wouldn't forget? That somehow, someway, you were going to be able to get under my skin with the attacks you've perpetrated on people I consider to be my family? My one true family...
“I have to tell you that being under my skin is not a place you want to be, Price. Greater men than you have fallen harder for a whole lot less than that BOI! I crushed Grayson Pierce's dreams just because I could. I wrecked Preecha Kamon's will to continue on principle. That's a hardened fighter, Muay Thai discipline...and I completely and utterly destroyed him. Do I even need to mention Torture?
“Torture...the guy you've so desperately wanted to be since you realized that he's ten times the man that you are? Yeah, that Torture. I beat him because I wanted to.
“But you? I'm going to crush you because I have to. You've tried to make a mockery of #BeachKrew...MY FAMILY! The most dominant stable of the year, held damn near every single belt this federation has between the lot of us, THE MOST DOMINANT WORLD CHAMPION THE WSEAF HAS EVER SEEN.
“Congratulations Price. You did it. You got to me. The only way you knew how. You want to make this personal?
“Just wait until I get to you. That little message I sent to you in the hallway? You'll be wishing for that emotional pain when I have you in my grasp in that ring come this Sunday, come Fifteen. The sheer amount of physical pain will be enough to make you wish you could go back to that moment you beat the living hell out of Sandy, the moment you decided to put hands on Jim Thuggin, a defenseless man, and blow your own damn brains out instead.
“I sweat to you, Jayson...you've never felt anything like what I'm going to do to you this weekend. Words can't even describe the hurting I'm going to put on you...I'm just going to leave that up to your imagination, given you can even work up such an original thought.
“This is MY World Championship, Price, and I will fight until I die to keep it...but my family? I'll kill for them...and you went and found yourself in a set of crosshairs you've never been in before. When The Leviathan wants something done, it gets done. Think about Scarecrow, only you'll never be able to come back from what I do to you.
“There's more than one way to kill a man, Price. I've told you that, right? You look like the kind of guy who makes a habit out of missing the point – more so than you miss winning matches - so I'll tell you eighty ways to Sunday. I'm going to revel in the fact that you'll never be able to go for this World Championship as long as you live and breath.
“So this is where you've found yourself, chasing that World Championship for the very last time...something you've been doing your entire career. Price, you fucking pleb. This isn't going to be the fairy tale ending you've always hoped for. You finally winning this motherfucker and holding it over your head with your hometown crowd cheering in jubilation.
“I hear you out there calling yourself the underdog...everyone's tried that shit from every single angle, but it won't work against me. There's no such thing as an underdog anymore. Not in my world. There's those who can, and then there's those who can't. Can you guess which one you are? Or do you already know? I'm betting three bottles of Beaveater than you absolutely do.
“That's why you wanted to get to me. I'm already inside your head, and I didn't even need the smoke and mirrors to do it. I own you, Jayson. I captured this World Championship three months into my WSeaF tenure...something it took you three years to do. I've held it for three months coming up at Fifteen...you've held yours for fifteen days. Ain't no competition there, Price.
“You have talent, no doubt about it...but you aren't talented enough. If you weren't looking at this World Championship within the first year of being in the WSeaF? Then you kissed your chance at holding it a long fucking time ago. I'm not talking about that lucky shit at Thirteen, I mean...every dog has it's day, right? Consider that a hand out from your old pal Fly...
“But I'm not your friend, Price. I'm going to throw everything I have at you...and I never run out.
“What are you going to do when I have to take you out behind the shed because you didn't know now not to bare your teeth at your owner, Jayson? You don't even want to fathom...
“But you're living it.”
*buzz static*
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
Part I: Lemon Yellow Sun
Jeremy walked up to the front door of the school, the warm sun beating down on the back of his neck. Jeremy didn't like the sun so much. It wasn't his friend. But it would be gone soon and the moon would be back...and it would be so happy to see what Jeremy had done. He walked through the double doors, that gun tucked into his waist band underneath his hoodie. He marched down the hallway, whistling a tune to himself, Wade in tow behind him.
He saw the custodian who had broken up the fight last weekend. She met his gaze and immediately looked away. She must have seen the look in his eyes. The smile on his face. She didn't like. Jeremy could tell.
Jeremy smiled.
He turned a corner, spotting a group of girls giggling around a locker, lead by a Jessica Knight. He always thought she was cute.
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Wade didn't like her so much. He didn't think she was cute. Jeremy pulled the pistol from his waistband as her eyes lit up. With Wade guiding his hand, he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. She didn't look so cute with her brains on the wall behind her. The girls screamed, and Wade was filled with the joy. He assured Jeremy that the moon would be satisfied.
The moon was hungry. It wanted to be fed.
Jeremy pulled the trigger two more times, dropping two more of her shocked friends to the floor alongside her. Three now. But the magic number was fifteen. That's what Wade wanted. That's what the moon wanted.
The moon was hungry. It wanted to be fed.
Jeremy continued down the hallway as the students screamed and fled in every direction. Jeremy didn't like the noise. It didn't satisfy the moon, Wade said. He urged Jeremy to lift the gun once again and pull the trigger. He watched as a boy from his first period P.E. Class hit the floor in front of him, trembling as blood leaked to the floor from a hole in his chest. Wade laughed. The moon would smile, he said.
And so it would as Jeremy pulled the trigger again and again, each shot flying true and hitting it's target. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The bodies started to pile up, but the pickings were getting slim. The hallway had mostly cleared, and Wade began to get mad. He started shouting. Telling Jeremy he was useless. Jeremy didn't like that. He opened a door and stepped into the library.
Mr. Robbins – Jeremy's English teacher – was there, hushing a couple of students behind a desk.
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Jeremy felt the words let loose from his lips, and Mr. Robbins being the authoritative protector of his students, stepped out from behind the desk. He approached Jeremy, that understanding look in his eye, a look of vile contempt underneath. He understood. But he didn't understand why Jeremy was doing this. He approached Jeremy, his hands held out in front of him, asking him why.
Jeremy pulled the trigger and Mr. Robbins hit the floor. The moon didn't want him. He wanted the children. His fellow students, crouched behind that desk, all did a silent sort of scream. Wade was getting excited again.
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Jeremy spoke again. He never did speak much, but today he felt like talking. He wanted everyone to know who he was. Who he was doing this for. Godnilla and the moon. His father and his best friend. They demanded it. They wanted fifteen, but Jeremy only had eight. He rounded the desk...and came face to face with Martin Shaw and his followers. Jeremy took the two sheep first. Ten. The moon was happy.
But it wasn't full yet. The moon was hungry. It wanted to be fed.
Martin stood up in a moment of bravado, truly believing in his sick mind that he would be some kind of hero. Jeremy pelted him in the face with his gun and he hit the floor like a sack of flour. He whipped the gun around on the rest of the students praying for their lives.
Bang.
Eleven.
Bang.
Twelve.
Bang.
Thirteen.
Jeremy turned on Martin. He would be number fourteen. And then there was only one more, and the moon would be satisfied. Martin pissed his pants. It wasn't his proudest moment, but then again...he wouldn't be alive long enough to really care. Jeremy had been sent to free him. Martin bowed his head and started whispering, literally praying to God to keep him safe.
“Do you believe in God?” Jeremy asked.
Martin looked up, crocodile tears in his dead eyes.
“What?” Martin asked with a stupid look on his face.
“I asked”, Jeremy said as he squatted down and put the pistol to Martin's temple, “Do you believe in God?”
Martin shook his head, not even sure of his own answer.
“You should”, Jeremy said, “He's in this room with us. He told me to come free you. It's what he wants. It's what the moon wants.”
“What?” Martin asked again.
Jeremy pulled the trigger and Martin hit the floor.
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
*buzz static*
“Is this really what you want, Jayson? Do you really even want to be the World Champion? I can tell you as a fighting, defending World Champion...that this isn't something you're cut out for. It's just not something that you're built for. You fight, and you do a damn good job at fighting...but you're not a winner. You don't know what it means to truly be a winner...
“That's why you hide behind your other 'achievements'. Your 'longest reigning cruiserweight championship reign'. Shit like that. You defended that belt a handful of times in the damn near year you had it. King of the Cruiserweights? Maybe. Maybe you are...
“But this is that Heavyweight class you're stepping into...and I've defended my belt just as many times as you have in just three months. That's...that's a feat in of itself, incomparable to your measly run as the Cruiserweight Champion of the year. Fucking scrub, Price.
“Do you...do you think this is a game Jayson? Do you think you're playing Nintendo or some bullshit like that? Do you think your 1337 skillz are going to get you out of this one? That's...that's fantasy BOI. This is reality. You don't stand a fucking chance in my world. You don't have what it takes when it really matters.
“You like magic tricks? In one night, I'm going to make your entire career disappear. Everything you believed you've accomplished will all be washed away in one fell swoop, and I won't even bat an eye man.
“And it's all going to be in celebration. Fifteen years of WSeaF. A career fucking murdered at the end of a BROSEIDON PUNCH. A man's ambitions and dreams destroyed because I deem it so. It's what I want. It's what Godnilla wants, man. This is going to be your swan song, Jayson. Another chance for you to fail yourself. Fail everyone you ever called a partner. Fail anyone who may have ever cared about you. Fail the WSeaF.
“A career full of failure, achievements dressed up with the grits and gravy to make them seem like more than they actually are, all culminating at Fifteen...your greatest failure ever. The night you were unable to succesfully claim the World Championship, again. To a wrestler that is just much greater than you in every aspect of the word, again.
“You think you're going to pull this one out, Price? Just show up at Fifteen and somehow expect everything to be different than it's been your entire career? I'm not the one trying to prove anything. I've made my bones in the WSeaF...and I answer to nobody. I'm the World Champion. I'm the main event of the WSeaF. I put myself here...and I don't intend on leaving anytime soon.
“I'll leave this spot when I'm dead and buried, Price...and you won't be the one to take me out. There are better men who want this championship just as badly...and I intend on fighting them as well. Putting them down. Joey Flash. Grayson Pierce. Steve Orbit. Spencer Adams. Johnny Rabid, if I have to. I do what I do. I approach every match the exact same way, everyone is a target if they're coming after what's mine...and whoever comes after what's mine? They're dead.
“This will be a celebration of the TRUE FUTURE of the WSeaF. #BeachKrew's Revolution...with me at it's helm as the greatest World Champion to have ever lived.
“That's not up for debate. That's just a straight up fact.
“Happy Fifteenth Anniversary WSeaF. Welcome to the future.”
*buzz static*
CYHNK-REEGGHHHERST
Part II: Of Mountaintops
The library was illuminated by the sun peeking through the windows. Jeremy still didn't like the sun. He wanted the moon to come out, tell him that he did a good job. He wanted that. He needed it. But his job wasn't done yet. He only had fourteen. Wade said fifteen. The moon needed fifteen.
Jeremy turned this way and that, looking around for anyone to fit the bill. He saw red and blue lights flashing outside. He knew his time was drawing short. He didn't know what to do. Fourteen wasn't enough. He needed fifteen.
“Wade?” Jeremy called to the void.
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Jeremy turned on his heel and came face to face with his God. Wade Moor. The Leviathan. Standing before him in his black chinos, a bright red and black Tommy Bahama, and that straw hat. His eyes were as black as coal, staring down at him. Jeremy fell to his knees and cried. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to fail him.
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“I know”, Jeremy replied, rocking back and forth on his knees, “I know...I don't know what to do Wade. What do I do?”
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“I want to”, Jeremy replied again, “But I don't know how.”
Wade knelt down in front of him and reached his hand towards Jeremy's. He lifted it up and brought Jeremy into a warm embrace. He pulled him in closer, raising Jeremy's hand up towards his head.
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A pair of wings erupted from Wade's back as black as his eyes, stretching twenty feet in each direction. A pair of horns grew from his head as his teeth turned yellow and fell out of his head. Jeremy's eyes widened in horror as his eyes transformed into two oval shapes and large fangs grew out of his cheeks. He reached the gun to poor Jeremy's head and pulled the trigger.
Harmless Jeremy knew no more. He hit the floor of the library, but the apparition had disappeared, leaving behind the carnage that Jeremy had created.
The moon went to bed full that night...
And somewhere, Wade woke from a deep sleep with a tear in his eye.
