ℒαṧт ♏ḯηʊ☂ε Å∂ʝυ﹩тღεᾔ☂ṧ
Feb 5, 2016 10:21:47 GMT -5
Bonnie Blue, Crow McMorris, and 8 more like this
Post by 6ix God on Feb 5, 2016 10:21:47 GMT -5
216 BC – Hannibal does the unthinkable, marching his army from Spain over the Alps into Italy. Using a double-envelopment tactic, the Carthaginian army overwhelms the Roman force twice its size at Cannae, killing consul Aemilius Paullus, and slaughters almost the entire Roman legion.
208 AD – The allied forces of Liu Bei and Sun Quan confront Cao Cao at the Battle of Red Cliffs. Using fake fire ships and luring Cao Cao’s forces into a trap, the fleet of 50,000 defeats a fleet of 800,000.
1223 – The invading Mongul hordes draw Kievan-Rus Army across the Kalka River, spreading them thin, then destroying them. Of a force of 80,000, only 5,000 remain.
1879 – 150 British soldiers at Rorke’s Drift are besieged by the Zulu forces of 4,000. After three days of fighting, the British lose 17, while the Zulu lose 350. The British hold the fort.
1914 – With WWI in full effect, the Second Russian Army confronts the Eighth German Army at Tannenberg. Using fast rails, the German Army is able to fight on two fronts with half the number of men. Disgraced, Russian General Alexander Samsonov commits suicide.
1954 – The French attempt to draw out the Viet Minh at Dien Bien Phu. Instead, they are surrounded. Their superior firepower is worthless as the Viet Minh overwhelm them to end the First Indochina War.
1958 – Revolutionary forces lead by Ernesto “Che” Guevara utilize seized tractors and bulldozers to raise the rails of the supply train for Batista’s forces. With the train derailed, the Cuban guerillas strangle Batista’s army, defeating an army of 4,000, supported by ten tanks, with a unit of 340 men, split in half.
2008 – Ten members of Lashkare-e-Taiba carry out a series of twelve coordinated shootings and bombings in Mumbai, India across four days. 160 are killed, and over 600 are wounded.
2015 – Nine men, in a series of three coordinated attacks, kill 130 people in Paris, France, taking the Bataclan Theater hostage and detonating bombs outside the Stade de France
2015 – #BeachKrew take the WCF by storm, utilizing a united front against a disorganized enemy, win Hellimination, and secure the majority of the championships.
The pink cigarette burned between Jared’s fingers, the pungent smell of tobacco snaking up and around, crowning the tips of his hair and sitting like a halo about his head. It didn’t matter how dark the room was – his sunglasses stayed on, tortoise shell Totokaelos which faintly concealed his brilliant blue eyes. A familiar look sat on his face, the same sort of smug smile any of his compatriots or adversaries could readily identify. That was almost irrelevant to the strange gray little man who sat across from him in the blinding light of the empty room – what mattered was the demeanor of his apprentice.
It was odd to see Jared so relaxed in such a situation; F15teen could only have been described as “failure”. Even the mere thought of the word left a bitter taste on the tip of Thuggin’s tongue – and he could taste sixty-seven more flavors than humans would ever comprehend. Yet, the bitter alkali coating of failure – a taste any human could understand – would be inevitably more lasting than the taste of meat and butter as Thuggin raised his fork to his mouth once more and placed the piece of Filet Mignon on his tongue. He chewed quietly – his large black eyes running along that damned smile on Jared’s face. At a time like this – the precipice of his return on such somber times – how could the Six God find joy?
Thuggin didn’t need to speculate for long; after a chew and swallow of the steak which sat before Jared, followed by a sip of Petit Verdot in his glass, the young Earth Child smiled and spoke.
Jared Holmes: You’re confused, Jim.
Thuggin’s “brow” wrinkled in apprehension as he placed his fork on the table and folded his hands before you.
Jim Thuggin: You will have to excuse me, Favorite Earth Child, but much has changed within a week’s time. Our failures at F15teen. My appearance to you in this state. Our…trysts with the man Joseph Flash. Our enemies circle around us, and we seem to be on the precipice of disaster. You must forgive me if I seem bemused by the apparent nonchalance you are displaying in the moment.
The Six God placed his fork and knife down upon his plate, crossed in an “x”, as he raised his napkin to his mouth, dabbed it once, then pushed his seat back and rose. Grasping his pink cigarette from the ashtray upon the table as he turned, he brought the smoke to his lips for a drag and walked to the massive window. The view of Earth was incredible – the swirling of clouds above mountains and oceans, the glimmer of stars in the bits of empty space visible from the faintest traces of the horizon.
Jared Holmes: The Family.
Thuggin nodded.
Jim Thuggin: They vie for our remaining belts?
Jared Holmes: And you do not trust Rabid and Kemp?
The sudden brazenness – the lack of hesitance – in the response from his pupil made Thuggin withdraw. It was rare for Thuggin to be on the defensive – never with his Earth Children.
Jim Thuggin: I did not mean to imply that – I have complete confidence in Earth Child Johnny and Earth Child Kyle.
Jared’s smile widened as Thuggin’s words danced in his head. He placed both palms on the window, the cigarette still smoldering between two fingers. Jared’s words came out slow and chosen, but the eyes behind his sunglasses reflected an anxious hunger. The shark had caught a whiff of blood.
Jared Holmes: Jim, you’ve been incredibly honest with me in the past week. So, if I may…
In an instant, Jared wheeled on the heel of his black Tom Ford Edward Zip Boots, advancing quickly on Thuggin and slamming a hand down on the table as he leered into his mentor’s face, his voice low and cold.
Jared Holmes: Stop with the “Earth Child Johnny” bullshit. I know exactly what Rabid is.
Thuggin recoiled, his mouth curling down in anger. This buck – this cub – this Earth Child dared make threats at him? Demands? The being who’d given him everything? The nervous system of Thuggin trembled in indignation as Jared turned from the table once more, taking another drag of the cigarette as he returned to the window. Thuggin rose to follow, but Jared’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
Jared Holmes: I have nothing to fear. We have nothing to fear.
Jim Thuggin: An interesting sentiment for a leader once removed and whose reinstatement requires dealing with an incoming threat amongst a host of veritable enemies. Surely you understand the numbers against you, Earth Child?
With a final drag, Jared dropped the cigarette butt on the floor, letting it smolder as he turned to Jim. The smile had not wavered.
Jared Holmes: What enemies?
Thuggin cocked his head in curiosity.
Jim Thuggin: Surely you are making a farce, Earth Child. As of present, two factions in the WSeaF have demonstrated animosity towards us. Do you think you may wave your hand at the entire lot?
The two locked eyes, the room quiet and a tense air hanging in the room. Closing his eyes, Jared raised a single hand and beckoned with two fingers, a sleek metal sphere gliding swiftly through the air to his side. With a chirp and a whirl, a panel slid on the seemingly panel-less exterior, and a beam of light projected the figures of Rebellution and the Family into the air. Opening his eyes, Jared raised his hands and parted the two factions.
Jared Holmes: The Family sees a unified whole based on an old adage, as said by Dag Riddick: “the enemy of the enemy is my friend.” Of course, this only works when you dislike the enemy of your enemy less than your enemy. And this, Jim, is there first mistake.
With a wave of his hand, the images of Rebellution were dispersed.
Jared Holmes: There is no “friend”, only enemies. Rebellution don’t trust the Family. They never will. That at any point any of the people in this faction thought that Rebellution would be stupid or naïve enough to side with them in any sense of the word, even indirectly, was fucking stupid.
Jared paused and smiled.
Jared Holmes: But “fucking stupid” is the underlying characteristic of the entire team, so I’m not entirely surprised. Maybe this would’ve been the point before when I’d have said “Case in point: they fucking stepped to #BeachKrew”…
Jared paused before the grin widened, his eyes dilating dangerously wide and wild behind the mirrored lenses.
Jared Holmes: …and fuck it, I’m going to say it anyway: case in point – they fucking stepped to #BeachKrew. Not even week one; in week-fucking-zero. And maybe we shouldn’t even bother with acknowledging them – after all, who are they? Two disgraced former World Champions. A sycophantic lesbian who has only ever been relevant as a sidekick, two absolutely new people, and Dag fucking Riddik. I don’t think I’ve seen such an absolutely shit line-up since the Detroit Lions went winless in 2008. For all intents and purposes, I should absolutely dismiss them as a whole.
Jared shook his head, leaning in to look closely at the remaining holograms.
Jared Holmes: But on the other hand, I could have dismissed Derek Moreno. Instead, I broke both members of Mejor Redemption and kicked off the #fuccboigenocide. I did disregard Teo del Sol, and where did it get me? No, I’m not going to disregard the precious little family; I’m going to drown them in the tub before they ever have a chance to become something more than they are.
Jared reached a hand out, and the figures of Morrigana, Katherine Phoenix, and Sarah Twilight appeared in his palm. He picked the first hologram – Morrigana – up from his palm.
Jared Holmes: This, I consider to be the first shot across our bow, not any stupid little catch phrase. So Morrigana and Katherine Phoenix think they can muscle us by taking out Oblivion – our former resident grinning bull dog. I ought to send them a gift basket; they did my dirty work for me. Oblivion was a rusted old junker; the first car you received at sixteen and have held onto until you’re twenty-seven. And while maybe you’re fond of that thing – you’ve had so many memories with it, after all – it’s falling apart. You’ve had to replace the tranny, maybe a window regulator has gone out, and you’ve spent far too much money on replacing brake pads.
Alas, poor Oblivion. I knew him, Jim, a fellow of infinite jest and excellent Nae Nae. Oh, and apparently he was giving the pipe to Katherine up the stink tube on the reg – so that’s canon.
So Morrigana decides she wants to play with the big boys? Sorry, dear, you should’ve stayed back in UFC where you could’ve gotten all the copped feels you want on as many unsuspecting straight girls as you want – those dykes tend to have that fetish, don’t they? You could’ve been ogling tits, but instead, I’m going to kick your tits in so hard, people will think I’m going to feud with Bonnie Blue. As I said earlier “fucking stupid.”
Congratulations Morrigana, you stupid cunt with an irritating to spell and ambiguous to pronounce name, you’re going to spend your entire first month getting tossed around like a roofied cheerleader in a Steubenville locker room. I don’t know what fucking Craigslist “Casual Relations” ad you found which got you wrapped up in this orgy of faggoty, failure, and AIDS, but you got the worst deal of anyone. What could have been a mediocre career occasionally building to the heat of lukewarm bath water is instead going to end in a Wikipedia stub: “Morrigana made her debut in WCF at F15teen. After a few months of being jobbed to the roster and having a train run on her by #BeachKrew, she was dropped from her contract.” This is what your little “family” signed you up for. With friends like these, who needs enemies, amirite?
Jared closed his hand and crushed the image – when he opened it, the hologram had disappeared. Thuggin smiled.
Jared Holmes: Speaking of those friends, how’s Sarah Twilight feeling a few days in? It must be remarkably embarrassing when you have the biggest testicles in a group of people including three men and one ambiguous tranny – maybe two. This can’t be what you expected, Sarah. Maybe in your mind, you looked at the group you’d gathered – followers like Dag, sycophants like Katherine, and veterans like Logan – and thought you may have built a reputable roster to make a legitimate power bid. I don’t entirely blame you for trying to set your sights on us; it’s the trendy thing to do. “We’re going to fight #BeachKrew” is practically short hand for “I really, really want to get an audience reaction because I’m not confident enough in my own abilities or standing after a rocky past, so I’m going to attempt to make a big statement by going after the most powerful guys in the federation who also happen to be some of the most hated and hope that the audience will boo them more than me.” Fair enough, but you’re “fucking stupid” moment comes in from even once thinking that a group including Dag Riddick and Katherine Phoenix would put you in any position of favor with others.
What do you want, Sarah? Power? Respect? You’re an ambitious enough girl to have already taken that Jayson Price cock balls deep and earned a low level title shot, but do you expect this to work out for you in the end? Do you expect to carry the bags of a mediocre team of people, one of whom is an unrepentant bigot and will probably start rambling off the moment you kiss a woman? You’re a smart girl – you can see the cracks yourself. It starts with deadweight, it climaxes with betrayal, and it ends with absolutely nothing. Katherine has no loyalty to you – her sycophancy revolves around Logan and always has. Dag has no loyalty to you – his loyalty lies in his thirst for Katherine. Charon is a fucking nobody, and we all know where Logan’s loyalties lie. You should’ve come back alone.
Jared swats the Sarah Twilight figure away, and it dissipates as it lands on the ground. Thuggin applauds lightly, his eyes shining in the dull glow of the room. Jared’s attention turns down to the remaining figure of the first three: Katherine Phoenix.
Jared Holmes: The would-be architect – or is “darkitecht” the new rage? Your “fucking stupid” moment is self-evident – it’s this entire scheme. From the moment you devised it, it was a failure. Three days in, it is still a failure. A year from now, it will still be a failure. In five years from now, it’ll be inducted in Wrestlecrap’s Hall of Shame for being such a catastrophic fucking failure, bred entirely on blind narcissism.
You wanted Sharkbear’s attention? Well here you are, but I’m still not fucking you, unless it involves stomping the teeth out of your mouth – a.k.a. the post-career hooker look money – and pinning you in the ring to prove that this was never a question. Most people would assume you could only be planning something – that somehow this failed abortion of a group you’ve masterminded is actually right on course or maybe the casual audience is missing a piece of the picture. I’m going to assure everyone they’re not – there is no secret we’re missing. It’s Katherine Phoenix who is actually delusional enough to not realize she’s a bitch when faced up against any member of #BeachKrew not named Oblivion.
And when it fails, Katherine? When I’ve murdered your entire “Family” and left you for dead? I’m going to enjoy your tears. I’m going to savor the tremble of your lip, the misting of your eyes, and the horror in your heart as you softly mutter to yourself “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go”. And when it’s all reduced to ash, I’ll be sure to remind you that it’s your fault.
As he flicked the final figure to the floor, Thuggin’s applause intensified, his grin growing wider. With a swipe of his hand, Jared grabbed the last three holographic figures from the air: Logan, Charon, and Dag Riddick. He considered the long mane and beard of Dag.
Jim Thuggin: The one whom Godnilla shall feast upon this week.
Jared Holmes: Let me let you in on a little secret, Dag: I encouraged Wade to request this booking from Seth. After all, since you slithered away from John’s challenge like the centipede you are, I figured you’d have to be cornered should we ever want to teach you a lesson. No, Dag, your first taste of #BeachKrew will not be a challenge for our belts. I will not let you be the next Snapz and leave this federation with more title shots than you deserve while more capable opponents toil away.
So you beat Lucy Starr. Forgive me for not being enthusiastic about your prospects, but in #BeachKrew we happen to have standards for recruitment. I’m not a Thomas Bates or a Katherine Phoenix – I would never take a Spencer Adams or a Dag Riddick or a Danny Anderson or a Morrigana. Part of me feels like I should slap myself for even giving a #fuccboi like you the acknowledgement of a match with Swagrid, but if I have to deal with your “Notice me, Senpai” shit for one more week, I just go crazy enough to pork a fat goth chick and buy a dog.
Jared chuckled to himself.
Jared Holmes: And for the record, no, I don’t watch anime. But for all the “dank memes” you post, I’m almost ninety-percent convinced you’ve flicked your prick to some Invader Zim Rule 34 like every other lonely neckbearded faggot incapable of doing anything right. “Fucking stupid” is a phrase that so underscores you that I’m surprised it’s not tattooed across your forehead. You are such a caricature of the “pseudo-intellectual high school goth faggot” (+trains) that I can almost predict other inane shit you’re inevitably going to say. Let me guess:
1) The only good hip-hop songs ever are “Dance with the Devil” by Immortal Technique and “Ill Mind of Hopsin 5”
2) In fact, Hopsin is the only rapper “who gets it”, huh?
3) Your favorite movie is “Donnie Darko” or “V for Vendetta”
4) Your favorite book is “1984” or “Atlas Shrugged”
5) You voted for Ron Paul
6) “Women only like assholes. They don’t want nice guys™”
I’d tell you, like Morrigana and Twilight before, to get out before you go down with the ship, but let’s be honest with ourselves, Dag: there’s no escape for you. No hope. First it will be GodNilla. Then maybe Rabid and Kemp. Then Gable will finally corner you. And then I’ll beat you like the mongrel you are. And after my entire clique has run train on you, your busted ass can crawl back to Roanoke to cry in your vulgarian mansion you can’t afford because you’re too fucking stupid to know how to save for the future and apparently think you can’t get a 401k without your job giving it to you.
With a curled middle finger, Jared flicked the Dag figure from his hand. He turned to Charon the Ferryman.
Jared Holmes: Who are you again?
He flicked the Charon figure aside as well, leaving him staring down at the holographic rendition of Logan, holding the Final Destination briefcase.
Jared Holmes: Look at what you’ve done, Logan: in a week that I’m supposed to be concerned with Spencer Adams or perhaps Joey Flash. But we’re men of stature, aren’t we? You know neither of those two concerns me like the matter at hand – this is like driving: you keep your eyes one hundred feet past to the distance.
So after a year or more of trashing your own name through cowardice, laziness, and sniveling crookery, you suddenly seem to think that my WSeaF is your oyster. No, Logan, this is not your playground. You don’t get the first table pick in the cafeteria, and no one wants to sit with you anyone besides the weirdoes who everyone suspects is going to either a) shoot the school up or b) keeps picking their fucking nose and wiping it on their jeans. You’ve come back, supposedly in form, and because you have one win, we’re supposed to suddenly be in awe of you. I’m not afraid of you, Logan. Your accomplishments – all of them – mean absolutely nothing to me. The opinions of others – all of them – mean absolutely nothing to me. The only reason you interest me in the slightest? You have something I want.
Jared reached down and plucked the briefcase from Logan’s hand.
Jared Holmes: What are you without this, Logan? A king without a crown. A truly empty threat. Absolutely nothing. You’re a little man with a vicious harpy who will get bored and leave, just like clockwork. Frankly, we have a company pool here in #BeachKrew about how long until you use that briefcase because Seth will be damned if you run off with it and absolutely discredit his prize, just like you’ve done his company. Unlike you, I’ve had to work for my success, even more so than my brothers in #BeachKrew. If I win the Trilogy Cup, it will be because I forced my way in, rather than it being paved for me. If I swat down Price, Flash, or you for the title it will be because I’ve held a gun to Seth’s head for my shot. Be afraid of facing me, Logan: I’m hungry. And this is not some idiot luchador you face.
But I suppose I’d be breaking theme if I didn’t give feedback on your “fucking stupid” moment. Really, your moment is the same as your stable’s: you provoked me intentionally. You could’ve slipped below the radar, and with Wade out of the championship, we’d have paid you no mind. For a man who’s supposedly this “master of treachery”, you’ve done nothing sly, subtle, or meriting of anything “treacherous”. Cashing in a briefcase when a man is down doesn’t make you “treacherous”. Betraying your teammates is treacherous, but anyone stupid enough to work with you – including Katherine Phoenix in her multiple times you’ve screwed her – deserves betrayal. You don’t scare me. You won’t outsmart me. You won’t beat me. And should you get the Whirlpool Championship, you’ll have me on your porch, knocking on your doorstep. Congratulations, Logan, you’ve made me your enemy. And now? I will drown you.
As the final figure dissipated, Jared closed his eyes to think – Thuggin continued to clap, his eyes alight with pride.
Jim Thuggin: A spirited dissection, Favorite Earth Child. And what of our challenges this week?
Jared’s grin relaxed into a calm smile.
Jared Holmes: Spencer Adams. Grayson Pierce and Andre Holmes. Dag Riddick. A battle royale. Child’s play, Jim. Dustin’s greatest threats in that match are Occulo – who he’s beaten many times successively – and Atreyu – who failed to succeed in Final Destination. Arbiter Wade will crush Dag; this will probably be the #beachbody of the week. I have complete confidence in John and Kyle. And as for Spencer Adams…
Jared opened his eyes and turned back to the window, staring down at the third stone from the sun.
Jared Holmes: I make my triumphant return. My fanfare.
Jared spun once more, the platinum chain with the diamond encrusted CHILLuminati pyramid medallion swinging with the force of the turn. Jared’s voice rose excitedly as his hands took to the air: an artist envisioning his canvas.
Jared Holmes: But there’s so much to do! I’ve hardly been back for a few days, and I don’t know where to begin! But I see it, Jim – I see the final design, and it’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s…
Jared closed his eyes again and drew a deep breath, exhaling with shivered pleasure.
Jared Holmes: It’s sublime. And I mean that in the aesthetic sense, of course.
Thuggin approached his protégé, a thin gray hand with spider-like fingers resting on his shoulder.
Jim Thuggin: Your first test is this week, Favorite Earth Child.
Jared turned to Thuggin, placing his hands on the shoulders of the little gray man.
Jared Holmes: Jim, don’t call me “Earth Child”…
Jared leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous as the sunglasses slid down his nose to reveal inky black eyes staring deep into Thuggin’s.
Jared Holmes: …call me “Harbinger”.
Jared released his grip on Thuggin and turned, making his way to the door and leaving an unfinished dinner. As he strode out, he crushed the still smoldering cigarette butt on the floor beneath the toe of his boot.
Jared Holmes: Prepare my transportation. I shall return to my Brothers immediately.
As the door closed behind him, Thuggin was left in the elegant dining room of his craft alone. Turning to the window, Thuggin quietly examined the planet below and turned over the words of his Earth Child. A strange mixture of emotion went through the Jalaxaritkatusian: anger, anticipation, excitement, insult. The confident return of Jared Holmes – the Chosen One – was going precisely as expected. Still, a final emotion sat in the chest of Jim Thuggin, moving around his various organs and nerves. There was something in the look of Jared’s eye – something lurking within the impenetrable workings of his mind – which brought a feeling out in Jim Thuggin he’d not experienced in a very long time. Perhaps it was the hunger in his grin. Perhaps it was that edge of sadism in his chuckle. But for the first time in a very long time, Jim Thuggin felt fear.
From the Diary of Thursday Kerrigan
January 28th, 2016
There’s something different about Jared. I don’t know what it is. Maybe its bcuz he seas me every day of the week – that’s changed (: Maybe its bcuz he told me he loves me. He says I was always the one and he needs me. It’s been so long since I wrote and so much has happened. I don’t even know where to start.
When Dune broke Jared’s shoulder and jaw, I came to visit him at the hospital every week. Then one day he asked I stay with him every day. He’s been so good to me, I hated how they kept him cooped up in that room for those first few weeks after surgery. I tried my best to be there for him. I got him Jollibee halo-halo when he wanted, blended his Panda Express for him, and brought him as much Schlitz as he could drink, even sneaking it in my purse when the doctors got mad. (; When they released him, he moved me into his Santa Monica place. He gets a lot of visitors. I don’t recognize any of them.
He had a lot of visitors at the hospital too. None of them were his usual friends besides Andre who was there a lot and Wade a few times. Everyone who visits Jared is young and beautiful – it’s like he’s gathered a following. Mostly, it’s college students who bitch about how WCF coming to town doesn’t have the crazy #BeachKrew parties it used to. A lot of people ask him about Jim Thuggin, Wade, and all that talk about the Prophecy. Jared couldn’t talk much with his jaw wired shut but everyone sat around him listening to everything he said. He didn’t fuck any of the girls, he always placed his arm around me.
He read a lot, too. A lot of odd books he’d ordered online. Lots of UFO stuff. Every night we took LSD and laid on the roof of his place, looking up at the stars. He told me that sharks were swimming in the skies, and if you looked hard enough, you could sea the ripples in their wake. He point out stars to me – Castor, Pollux, Pleiades, and Vega. He said there was a sea in the sky (I remember reading about this in my astrology book : D) and the sharks were around Deneb and Fomalhaut. He was right. I saw them.
Maybe that’s what’s different about Jared. He looks at the ocean a lot (we live right by the beach), but he looks at the sky more, too. He said that Jim used to speak of a Galactic Prophecy that brought him, Wade, and Andre together. He held my hand and it felt like an orchestra as he said he was going to be the king of the skies and the sea. He wants me to be his queen. When we kissed, he said I tasted like Las Vegas.
Last night we took a boat out to the Channel Islands. Everyone was waiting, and you could sea the bonfires glow from the water. Jared had arranged a big party to celebrate his return to WSeaF – he called in a “gathering of the faithful.” He bought the most beautiful dress for me, black and flowing with disco ball mask to go with his. The cheers were so loud when we arrived they drowned out the music. Even at the parties he used to throw, I’d never sean people act like this towards Jared. They waded out into the water as the boat approached, hands up and mouths open as he paced the sides, popping pills in their mouths. When we landed, we were hoisted onto their shoulders and taken to the stage they’d constructed. Andre was already waiting for him. He was the only #BeachKrew member I recognized there.
Jared raised his hands, and everyone was quiet. He spoke of the Galactic Prophecy and talked about the ocean. He talked about the party and how society wanted us to get jobs at law firms or businesses. He said that the world was bad and we had to escape. Then he ate a stamp of LSD and gave me one – everyone went wild with cheers. He called everyone brother and sister, and he said that #BeachKrew would never die or grow tired when he returned. He promised to keep the movement going and that the Celestial Sharks would bless us. We lit a pentagram in the middle of the beach and danced around it. Jared isn’t really a Satanist, he says it scares people he doesn’t want away and means revolution. Jared is incredibly smart, he talked about Satan being beautiful, kind, and enlightened but was cast down for it.
The rest of the night was spent drinking, dancing, and taking pills. As the sun began to rise, Jared lead everyone out into the water and continued the party there. We fell asleep in each others arms on the beach. I woke up back at our place bcuz Jared moved me back to the boat. I was too drunk to notice : P
I wonder why the others haven’t been around. I’ve asked Jared, but he gets quiet and changes the subject. I think maybe they had an argument. I know Jared says things are going to change when he gets back. He talks a lot about the WSeaF and how #BeachKrew cannot stand without him. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I know that he’s different now. He still has the same smile and same beautiful eyes I’ve known, but there’s this glimmer in the depths of them. Something brilliant yet sort of scary. He doesn’t act much different or anything (maybe says “bro” a little less : P) but its like he knows something special. Maybe it has to do with the Galactic Prophecy. Maybe it has to do with the Celestial Sharks. I do know Jared is hungry to be back. And things are going to be different. I can’t wait to be atop the world with him.
Hey there. Did you miss me?
Oh, you, always playing hard to get! Cut the foreplay, WSeaF – you know you’re thrilled to have me back. After all, how much fun was everything without me? Who could’ve stepped into these shoes? K.L. Henson? Rabid? Wade? Katherine-fucking-Phoenix?
That’s the word of the day and the word of ad infinitum. Not “LEL”. Not “LOLZ”. Not whatever faggoty variation you people are trying to sell as #TRUdank. Who runs the Department of Le Rare Dank May-Mays? Fukken #BeachKrew. Monopoly, nilla. You can’t upSanders a fukken Pepe without giving me a cut of that mr skeltal good calcium. And don’t you even try to peddle that dirty “boudle” shit in my hood. Know why you missed me, WSeaF? Because none of you motherfuckers know how to run quality control.
Speaking of quality control, it’s been embarrassing to watch you piss away all the audience confidence WAR got you, Spencer. I mean, seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? You go tie me for third, beat me for the #Bromance Championship, and now you’re sniffing butts with Adam Young? What the everliving fuck is this? I remember laying in my hospital, Thursday reading off Bleacher Report updates and telling me that Adam Young was talking all this shit about you. And you know what I said through a wired jaw and head full of morphine?
“Eh, fuck it. Adams won’t bite.”
Holy shit, the opiates affected my brain. What a fucking chump you are, Spencer. What a fucking loser. You know the difference between real and fake-real? Check this shit: we aren’t going to lift a finger to crush Dragon Klan. They can come out and spray paint people or whatever the fuck they want to do, but I’m not even going to fucking breathe on them. None of us are. Because fuck the Dragon Klan. Fuck Adam Young; that should be the only opinion you have on him.
Instead? You look like a fucking child pushing back on other kids. You’re a midget on stilts who tried to walk with the giants, only to let other midgets distract him and show his true colors. You’re not even close to my league. This is Pop Warner versus the Carolina Panthers in a full contact scrimmage, and I’m going to savor finally putting your head on my wall where it belongs. How dare you fucking step to me, Adams. How dare you ever pop your mouth off and think you could step into the same ring as me or compete with me on the same level at any time at all. You’ve gotten lucky twice now. That’s two times too many.
Are you ready for this, Spencer? Are you ready for me to make an example out of you? The #FuccboiGenocide continues this week, and your blood is splattering the altar of the 6ix God to mark the 6econd Coming. I could probably keep going on about how I’m going to break you or how much you suck … but something tells me that’s just not necessary.
The Antidote has failed. The virus has overtaken the system.
Spencer Adams dies on Sunday.
Wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing myself tightly against his body, I brought my face into Jared’s hair and took a long smell. It was always one of my favorite things about Jared (besides his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his voice, the way he kisses me, the way he holds my hand, the way he fucks me, and –well – you get it), and today was no exception. I think his fragrance was Azzaro Chrome – he doesn’t always need to buy expensive if something a little more proletarian smells good. I think fresh citrus smells suit him so much better on perfect days like this.
His hand came up and stroked the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes at his touch and kissed him on the neck before laying my head on his shoulder. The cotton shirt (an ash gray shirt depicting a distressed screen print of a classic Mickey Mouse doing a handstand, courtesy of Junk Food Tees, an online retailer known for its nouveau-retro takes on casual fashion) felt soft beneath my cheek. The shoulder shifted from underneath me as Jared turned and cupped a hand under my chin. I opened my eyes to stare back into those beautiful blue pools of his. He smiled and my stomach rolled over.
Jared Holmes: C’mon, hun. Let’s keep walking.
We stood and continued our walk along the limestone cliffs of the Santa Barbara shore. The cool ocean breeze drifted past us, and the chill in the air gave me gooseflesh up and down my legs. The white linen Brunello Cucinelli dress swayed with the breeze, and while it didn’t cover my arms, Jared’s arm around my shoulders made me feel warm and safe. My hand reached for his, and he took it immediately; it’s so nice how he’ll give me both hands while we walk. We’d spent the day being driven around Paso Robles for wine tasting (Jared has an amazing palatte) and pampering ourselves at the spas before being taken down to Santa Barbara for dinner by the sea and this walk. I think Jared knows how busy and stressed he’s going to be going back into WSeaF – this is his way of showing me how much he loves me before his time is a little more limited or he’s a little more on edge.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I turned to look at him.
Thursday Kerrigan: Yeah?
He smiled at me, that warm and appreciative smile which seems to tell me so much without saying anything.
Jared Holmes: You’ve been incredible the past few months. Everything. From helping me recover to spreading my word to helping me in the pursuit of our “friend”. I just wanted to thank you.
My insides turned to butterflies – I can’t explain why he does this to me. I can’t help but turn red and snuggle against him.
Thursday Kerrigan: I’d do anything for you. Anything.
His smile held.
Jared Holmes: Yeah. I know.
We stopped, and I turned to let his arm fall from my shoulder so I could take both of his hands. I tilted my head in that way he likes as I looked at him.
Thursday Kerrigan: We’ve really got him, don’t we? You and me?
I couldn’t help but giggle – it was helping Jared with his work on J which made me the happiest. J was such an odd but fun creature – so perfect without having any of the perfect qualities which made Jared so much more perfect. A beautiful box for Jared to fill. To make better. Nothing could have been more of an honor than for me to bring J in. A little light appeared in Jared’s eyes – that light he gets whenever we talk about J. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world to watch Jared get excited.
Jared Holmes: We’re close. So very, very close. But let’s not get too confident. It’s going to take a lot of pushing and pulling. A lot of sawing slowly away at the support beams before the bridge collapses.
He paused for a moment to think.
Jared Holmes: But yes. You’ve been indespensible.
I pushed myself up against his chest, tucking my head under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist. His arms fell around my shoulders and squeezed me in.
Thursday Kerrigan: I love you Jared.
He squeezed me tighter – that’s his way of saying it back. I’d do anything and everything for him to squeeze me like that for the rest of my life. The moment was broken by the beep of a horn – a few meters away, our ride signaled its arrival and waited for us. Jared beamed.
Jared Holmes: It’s time to go meet with the others. Are you ready?
I giggled.
Thursday Kerrigan: Silly, of course I am. I’m always ready.
He kissed me on the top of my head and walked with me to the limo, holding open the door for me to get in. Inside, we immediately set to work stripping off our date clothes to dress ourselves for rendezvous with the other members of #BeachKrew. As I sat in just my panties applying my eyeliner with the compact mirror I’d brought, I felt his arm slip across my stomach and cup under my breast. With a single kiss behind my ear, he made me melt into him. There couldn’t be the better end to a perfect day – wine, a walk, and making love to the man I love.
The Jared I know is not the Jared anyone else knows. In the same way, the Thursday that Jared knows isn’t the same one everyone else knows. I know the Jared before and between the costumes – the one who goes on walks and enjoys making love in the back of a Limo. The Thursday everyone else knows is the Queen of Blades – the seductive priestess of the Six God. And sometimes it can be a hard role to play – to tempt men with things that only Jared will ever know. To even suggest I could be anything but only his. But for him? For my Six God? I’d do anything.
Deep within the House of Balloons, a nightclub owned by a certain Mr. E.J. Holmes Jr., a table sat abandoned. Rocks glasses piled high with bent straws and fruit rinds, several metal buckets sat with tepid pools of water and empty champagne bottles bobbing lazily, and the seats were empty save for the gaggle of women abandoned along with the table. A scene of post-bacchanalian chaos such as this could only indicate that #BeachKrew had been here moments earlier, leaving empty bottles, used razors, and anxious women.
These men, however, now sat within a dark and smoky room tucked away from the curious eyes of patrons or the staff. The room was lit with faint purple lights, a few white lights shining down on the various seats gathered around a long meeting table. At this table, #BeachKrew indulged in their “midnight breakfast”: Blue Velvet-weed spliffs, BeavEater and tonic for cottonmouth, and a line of that Kathy P yayo white girl to keep your head clear. At the head of the table sat the Six God, flanked by Wade on his right and Rabid on his left, Kemp beside Rabid, Beaver beside Wade, Andre beside Kemp, Gable beside Beaver, Sandy Coconutz, and finally Jim Thuggin at the far end of the table.
After Jared finished his line, Thursday bent over to pick up the gold tray which lay before him, and after bussing his place, she circled the table to clear space before the others. Jared leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet idly onto the table as he took another long drag from his spliff – though a casual glance about to room would reassure that Jared was not alone in such an informal display. Of the gathered men (and woman), only Johnny Rabid and Jim Thuggin seemed to be sitting up straight, eyes on the 6ix God.
Jared Holmes: So. Here we are. Come together, right now, over me.
At the beginning of Jared’s speech, the group went silent, eyes forward. Kicking his legs down, Jared sat up and pushed his chair from the table. He rose and paced the room as he spoke.
Jared Holmes: F15teen came, and F15teen went. That is almost everything I’m going to say about it at this meeting.
His hand shot out, a single pointing finger raised to a now-mostly empty trophy case – only the WCF Tag Titles remained.
Jared Holmes: Let that, instead, serve as any speech I could give on F15teen. Instead, we’re going to focus on the matter at hand. F15teen proved interesting if for the developments.
Kyle Kemp: You mean the Family.
Jared Holmes: I mean the Team of Torture.
Johnny Rabid was the first to smile, his eyes alight as he leaned forward.
Johnny Rabid: Undermine their unity. Interesting.
Jared Holmes: From now on, we shall never refer to the Family as such. We shall refer to them as Tee-Oh-Tee, Team of Treachery, or Team of Torture. Especially Team of Torture. Next up, we’ll be holding a tribute for Oblivion at Slam.
Dustin Beaver: Didn’t you, in particular, hate Oblivion?
Jared Holmes: And I’d like to see them prove it. No, we will honor Oblivion because it further cuts out their argument that we’re “bad guys”. And if Morrigana has any connection to Oblivion, she’ll see every subtle jab we take during his tribute. Any questions thus far?
Wade raised a hand.
Jared Holmes: Swag?
Wade Moor: Needs more dank sea urchins.
Jared’s lips curled into a smile.
Jared Holmes: Yes, it does, GodNilla. Anyone have suggestions for Dank May-Mayology?
The sound of Le Rare Dank May-Mays caused Sandy’s head to jerk up from her book (Something dumb about water) and shoot a hand up.
Sandy Coconutz: Oh! I wanna do this! I gotta plan!
Jared Holmes: Granted. Sandy, have fun.
In an instant, Sandy withdrew her phone from her post and began tapping away, chuckling to herself as she whispered to herself about “♫ getting her ZMac on ♫”. Jared’s eyes turned back to the group.
Jared Holmes: Wade will be engaging with Dag this week. Group thoughts?
Jared Holmes: My feelings exactly.
Jared’s eyes scanned the room before resting on the penetrating stare of Rabid. Jared strode around the table before standing beside the chair of his longtime #BeachKrew rival and former usurper. Rabid pushed his chair back and rose as well. The two men studied one another for a quiet moment as the laughter left the room.
Johnny Rabid: We’ve had our differences, Jared.
Jared Holmes: We have, Johnny.
Johnny Rabid: …I will follow if you lead.
Rabid offered a hand. Jared accepted it.
Jared Holmes: As former leader of #BeachKrew, what are you feelings on the matter at hand.
Johnny Rabid smiled. Blood ran cold. His voice was low and monotonous, the matter-of-fact voice of a killer.
Johnny Rabid: We systematically break them. From now on, we deal with this. Matches, run-ins, doesn’t matter. We snuff these motherfuckers out.
Jared smiled in return. The shark smile and slasher smile were indistinguishable in levels of malice.
Johnny Rabid: That’s my opinion. We do them LV-426 style.
Jared nodded.
Jared Holmes: Then bleach the halls clean.
208 AD – The allied forces of Liu Bei and Sun Quan confront Cao Cao at the Battle of Red Cliffs. Using fake fire ships and luring Cao Cao’s forces into a trap, the fleet of 50,000 defeats a fleet of 800,000.
1223 – The invading Mongul hordes draw Kievan-Rus Army across the Kalka River, spreading them thin, then destroying them. Of a force of 80,000, only 5,000 remain.
1879 – 150 British soldiers at Rorke’s Drift are besieged by the Zulu forces of 4,000. After three days of fighting, the British lose 17, while the Zulu lose 350. The British hold the fort.
1914 – With WWI in full effect, the Second Russian Army confronts the Eighth German Army at Tannenberg. Using fast rails, the German Army is able to fight on two fronts with half the number of men. Disgraced, Russian General Alexander Samsonov commits suicide.
1954 – The French attempt to draw out the Viet Minh at Dien Bien Phu. Instead, they are surrounded. Their superior firepower is worthless as the Viet Minh overwhelm them to end the First Indochina War.
1958 – Revolutionary forces lead by Ernesto “Che” Guevara utilize seized tractors and bulldozers to raise the rails of the supply train for Batista’s forces. With the train derailed, the Cuban guerillas strangle Batista’s army, defeating an army of 4,000, supported by ten tanks, with a unit of 340 men, split in half.
2008 – Ten members of Lashkare-e-Taiba carry out a series of twelve coordinated shootings and bombings in Mumbai, India across four days. 160 are killed, and over 600 are wounded.
2015 – Nine men, in a series of three coordinated attacks, kill 130 people in Paris, France, taking the Bataclan Theater hostage and detonating bombs outside the Stade de France
2015 – #BeachKrew take the WCF by storm, utilizing a united front against a disorganized enemy, win Hellimination, and secure the majority of the championships.
Oh yeah. I just went there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The pink cigarette burned between Jared’s fingers, the pungent smell of tobacco snaking up and around, crowning the tips of his hair and sitting like a halo about his head. It didn’t matter how dark the room was – his sunglasses stayed on, tortoise shell Totokaelos which faintly concealed his brilliant blue eyes. A familiar look sat on his face, the same sort of smug smile any of his compatriots or adversaries could readily identify. That was almost irrelevant to the strange gray little man who sat across from him in the blinding light of the empty room – what mattered was the demeanor of his apprentice.
It was odd to see Jared so relaxed in such a situation; F15teen could only have been described as “failure”. Even the mere thought of the word left a bitter taste on the tip of Thuggin’s tongue – and he could taste sixty-seven more flavors than humans would ever comprehend. Yet, the bitter alkali coating of failure – a taste any human could understand – would be inevitably more lasting than the taste of meat and butter as Thuggin raised his fork to his mouth once more and placed the piece of Filet Mignon on his tongue. He chewed quietly – his large black eyes running along that damned smile on Jared’s face. At a time like this – the precipice of his return on such somber times – how could the Six God find joy?
Thuggin didn’t need to speculate for long; after a chew and swallow of the steak which sat before Jared, followed by a sip of Petit Verdot in his glass, the young Earth Child smiled and spoke.
Jared Holmes: You’re confused, Jim.
Thuggin’s “brow” wrinkled in apprehension as he placed his fork on the table and folded his hands before you.
Jim Thuggin: You will have to excuse me, Favorite Earth Child, but much has changed within a week’s time. Our failures at F15teen. My appearance to you in this state. Our…trysts with the man Joseph Flash. Our enemies circle around us, and we seem to be on the precipice of disaster. You must forgive me if I seem bemused by the apparent nonchalance you are displaying in the moment.
The Six God placed his fork and knife down upon his plate, crossed in an “x”, as he raised his napkin to his mouth, dabbed it once, then pushed his seat back and rose. Grasping his pink cigarette from the ashtray upon the table as he turned, he brought the smoke to his lips for a drag and walked to the massive window. The view of Earth was incredible – the swirling of clouds above mountains and oceans, the glimmer of stars in the bits of empty space visible from the faintest traces of the horizon.
Jared Holmes: The Family.
Thuggin nodded.
Jim Thuggin: They vie for our remaining belts?
Jared Holmes: And you do not trust Rabid and Kemp?
The sudden brazenness – the lack of hesitance – in the response from his pupil made Thuggin withdraw. It was rare for Thuggin to be on the defensive – never with his Earth Children.
Jim Thuggin: I did not mean to imply that – I have complete confidence in Earth Child Johnny and Earth Child Kyle.
Jared’s smile widened as Thuggin’s words danced in his head. He placed both palms on the window, the cigarette still smoldering between two fingers. Jared’s words came out slow and chosen, but the eyes behind his sunglasses reflected an anxious hunger. The shark had caught a whiff of blood.
Jared Holmes: Jim, you’ve been incredibly honest with me in the past week. So, if I may…
In an instant, Jared wheeled on the heel of his black Tom Ford Edward Zip Boots, advancing quickly on Thuggin and slamming a hand down on the table as he leered into his mentor’s face, his voice low and cold.
Jared Holmes: Stop with the “Earth Child Johnny” bullshit. I know exactly what Rabid is.
Thuggin recoiled, his mouth curling down in anger. This buck – this cub – this Earth Child dared make threats at him? Demands? The being who’d given him everything? The nervous system of Thuggin trembled in indignation as Jared turned from the table once more, taking another drag of the cigarette as he returned to the window. Thuggin rose to follow, but Jared’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
Jared Holmes: I have nothing to fear. We have nothing to fear.
Jim Thuggin: An interesting sentiment for a leader once removed and whose reinstatement requires dealing with an incoming threat amongst a host of veritable enemies. Surely you understand the numbers against you, Earth Child?
With a final drag, Jared dropped the cigarette butt on the floor, letting it smolder as he turned to Jim. The smile had not wavered.
Jared Holmes: What enemies?
Thuggin cocked his head in curiosity.
Jim Thuggin: Surely you are making a farce, Earth Child. As of present, two factions in the WSeaF have demonstrated animosity towards us. Do you think you may wave your hand at the entire lot?
The two locked eyes, the room quiet and a tense air hanging in the room. Closing his eyes, Jared raised a single hand and beckoned with two fingers, a sleek metal sphere gliding swiftly through the air to his side. With a chirp and a whirl, a panel slid on the seemingly panel-less exterior, and a beam of light projected the figures of Rebellution and the Family into the air. Opening his eyes, Jared raised his hands and parted the two factions.
Jared Holmes: The Family sees a unified whole based on an old adage, as said by Dag Riddick: “the enemy of the enemy is my friend.” Of course, this only works when you dislike the enemy of your enemy less than your enemy. And this, Jim, is there first mistake.
With a wave of his hand, the images of Rebellution were dispersed.
Jared Holmes: There is no “friend”, only enemies. Rebellution don’t trust the Family. They never will. That at any point any of the people in this faction thought that Rebellution would be stupid or naïve enough to side with them in any sense of the word, even indirectly, was fucking stupid.
Jared paused and smiled.
Jared Holmes: But “fucking stupid” is the underlying characteristic of the entire team, so I’m not entirely surprised. Maybe this would’ve been the point before when I’d have said “Case in point: they fucking stepped to #BeachKrew”…
Jared paused before the grin widened, his eyes dilating dangerously wide and wild behind the mirrored lenses.
Jared Holmes: …and fuck it, I’m going to say it anyway: case in point – they fucking stepped to #BeachKrew. Not even week one; in week-fucking-zero. And maybe we shouldn’t even bother with acknowledging them – after all, who are they? Two disgraced former World Champions. A sycophantic lesbian who has only ever been relevant as a sidekick, two absolutely new people, and Dag fucking Riddik. I don’t think I’ve seen such an absolutely shit line-up since the Detroit Lions went winless in 2008. For all intents and purposes, I should absolutely dismiss them as a whole.
Jared shook his head, leaning in to look closely at the remaining holograms.
Jared Holmes: But on the other hand, I could have dismissed Derek Moreno. Instead, I broke both members of Mejor Redemption and kicked off the #fuccboigenocide. I did disregard Teo del Sol, and where did it get me? No, I’m not going to disregard the precious little family; I’m going to drown them in the tub before they ever have a chance to become something more than they are.
Jared reached a hand out, and the figures of Morrigana, Katherine Phoenix, and Sarah Twilight appeared in his palm. He picked the first hologram – Morrigana – up from his palm.
Jared Holmes: This, I consider to be the first shot across our bow, not any stupid little catch phrase. So Morrigana and Katherine Phoenix think they can muscle us by taking out Oblivion – our former resident grinning bull dog. I ought to send them a gift basket; they did my dirty work for me. Oblivion was a rusted old junker; the first car you received at sixteen and have held onto until you’re twenty-seven. And while maybe you’re fond of that thing – you’ve had so many memories with it, after all – it’s falling apart. You’ve had to replace the tranny, maybe a window regulator has gone out, and you’ve spent far too much money on replacing brake pads.
Alas, poor Oblivion. I knew him, Jim, a fellow of infinite jest and excellent Nae Nae. Oh, and apparently he was giving the pipe to Katherine up the stink tube on the reg – so that’s canon.
So Morrigana decides she wants to play with the big boys? Sorry, dear, you should’ve stayed back in UFC where you could’ve gotten all the copped feels you want on as many unsuspecting straight girls as you want – those dykes tend to have that fetish, don’t they? You could’ve been ogling tits, but instead, I’m going to kick your tits in so hard, people will think I’m going to feud with Bonnie Blue. As I said earlier “fucking stupid.”
Congratulations Morrigana, you stupid cunt with an irritating to spell and ambiguous to pronounce name, you’re going to spend your entire first month getting tossed around like a roofied cheerleader in a Steubenville locker room. I don’t know what fucking Craigslist “Casual Relations” ad you found which got you wrapped up in this orgy of faggoty, failure, and AIDS, but you got the worst deal of anyone. What could have been a mediocre career occasionally building to the heat of lukewarm bath water is instead going to end in a Wikipedia stub: “Morrigana made her debut in WCF at F15teen. After a few months of being jobbed to the roster and having a train run on her by #BeachKrew, she was dropped from her contract.” This is what your little “family” signed you up for. With friends like these, who needs enemies, amirite?
Jared closed his hand and crushed the image – when he opened it, the hologram had disappeared. Thuggin smiled.
Jared Holmes: Speaking of those friends, how’s Sarah Twilight feeling a few days in? It must be remarkably embarrassing when you have the biggest testicles in a group of people including three men and one ambiguous tranny – maybe two. This can’t be what you expected, Sarah. Maybe in your mind, you looked at the group you’d gathered – followers like Dag, sycophants like Katherine, and veterans like Logan – and thought you may have built a reputable roster to make a legitimate power bid. I don’t entirely blame you for trying to set your sights on us; it’s the trendy thing to do. “We’re going to fight #BeachKrew” is practically short hand for “I really, really want to get an audience reaction because I’m not confident enough in my own abilities or standing after a rocky past, so I’m going to attempt to make a big statement by going after the most powerful guys in the federation who also happen to be some of the most hated and hope that the audience will boo them more than me.” Fair enough, but you’re “fucking stupid” moment comes in from even once thinking that a group including Dag Riddick and Katherine Phoenix would put you in any position of favor with others.
What do you want, Sarah? Power? Respect? You’re an ambitious enough girl to have already taken that Jayson Price cock balls deep and earned a low level title shot, but do you expect this to work out for you in the end? Do you expect to carry the bags of a mediocre team of people, one of whom is an unrepentant bigot and will probably start rambling off the moment you kiss a woman? You’re a smart girl – you can see the cracks yourself. It starts with deadweight, it climaxes with betrayal, and it ends with absolutely nothing. Katherine has no loyalty to you – her sycophancy revolves around Logan and always has. Dag has no loyalty to you – his loyalty lies in his thirst for Katherine. Charon is a fucking nobody, and we all know where Logan’s loyalties lie. You should’ve come back alone.
Jared swats the Sarah Twilight figure away, and it dissipates as it lands on the ground. Thuggin applauds lightly, his eyes shining in the dull glow of the room. Jared’s attention turns down to the remaining figure of the first three: Katherine Phoenix.
Jared Holmes: The would-be architect – or is “darkitecht” the new rage? Your “fucking stupid” moment is self-evident – it’s this entire scheme. From the moment you devised it, it was a failure. Three days in, it is still a failure. A year from now, it will still be a failure. In five years from now, it’ll be inducted in Wrestlecrap’s Hall of Shame for being such a catastrophic fucking failure, bred entirely on blind narcissism.
You wanted Sharkbear’s attention? Well here you are, but I’m still not fucking you, unless it involves stomping the teeth out of your mouth – a.k.a. the post-career hooker look money – and pinning you in the ring to prove that this was never a question. Most people would assume you could only be planning something – that somehow this failed abortion of a group you’ve masterminded is actually right on course or maybe the casual audience is missing a piece of the picture. I’m going to assure everyone they’re not – there is no secret we’re missing. It’s Katherine Phoenix who is actually delusional enough to not realize she’s a bitch when faced up against any member of #BeachKrew not named Oblivion.
And when it fails, Katherine? When I’ve murdered your entire “Family” and left you for dead? I’m going to enjoy your tears. I’m going to savor the tremble of your lip, the misting of your eyes, and the horror in your heart as you softly mutter to yourself “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go”. And when it’s all reduced to ash, I’ll be sure to remind you that it’s your fault.
As he flicked the final figure to the floor, Thuggin’s applause intensified, his grin growing wider. With a swipe of his hand, Jared grabbed the last three holographic figures from the air: Logan, Charon, and Dag Riddick. He considered the long mane and beard of Dag.
Jim Thuggin: The one whom Godnilla shall feast upon this week.
Jared Holmes: Let me let you in on a little secret, Dag: I encouraged Wade to request this booking from Seth. After all, since you slithered away from John’s challenge like the centipede you are, I figured you’d have to be cornered should we ever want to teach you a lesson. No, Dag, your first taste of #BeachKrew will not be a challenge for our belts. I will not let you be the next Snapz and leave this federation with more title shots than you deserve while more capable opponents toil away.
So you beat Lucy Starr. Forgive me for not being enthusiastic about your prospects, but in #BeachKrew we happen to have standards for recruitment. I’m not a Thomas Bates or a Katherine Phoenix – I would never take a Spencer Adams or a Dag Riddick or a Danny Anderson or a Morrigana. Part of me feels like I should slap myself for even giving a #fuccboi like you the acknowledgement of a match with Swagrid, but if I have to deal with your “Notice me, Senpai” shit for one more week, I just go crazy enough to pork a fat goth chick and buy a dog.
Jared chuckled to himself.
Jared Holmes: And for the record, no, I don’t watch anime. But for all the “dank memes” you post, I’m almost ninety-percent convinced you’ve flicked your prick to some Invader Zim Rule 34 like every other lonely neckbearded faggot incapable of doing anything right. “Fucking stupid” is a phrase that so underscores you that I’m surprised it’s not tattooed across your forehead. You are such a caricature of the “pseudo-intellectual high school goth faggot” (+trains) that I can almost predict other inane shit you’re inevitably going to say. Let me guess:
1) The only good hip-hop songs ever are “Dance with the Devil” by Immortal Technique and “Ill Mind of Hopsin 5”
2) In fact, Hopsin is the only rapper “who gets it”, huh?
3) Your favorite movie is “Donnie Darko” or “V for Vendetta”
4) Your favorite book is “1984” or “Atlas Shrugged”
5) You voted for Ron Paul
6) “Women only like assholes. They don’t want nice guys™”
I’d tell you, like Morrigana and Twilight before, to get out before you go down with the ship, but let’s be honest with ourselves, Dag: there’s no escape for you. No hope. First it will be GodNilla. Then maybe Rabid and Kemp. Then Gable will finally corner you. And then I’ll beat you like the mongrel you are. And after my entire clique has run train on you, your busted ass can crawl back to Roanoke to cry in your vulgarian mansion you can’t afford because you’re too fucking stupid to know how to save for the future and apparently think you can’t get a 401k without your job giving it to you.
With a curled middle finger, Jared flicked the Dag figure from his hand. He turned to Charon the Ferryman.
Jared Holmes: Who are you again?
He flicked the Charon figure aside as well, leaving him staring down at the holographic rendition of Logan, holding the Final Destination briefcase.
Jared Holmes: Look at what you’ve done, Logan: in a week that I’m supposed to be concerned with Spencer Adams or perhaps Joey Flash. But we’re men of stature, aren’t we? You know neither of those two concerns me like the matter at hand – this is like driving: you keep your eyes one hundred feet past to the distance.
So after a year or more of trashing your own name through cowardice, laziness, and sniveling crookery, you suddenly seem to think that my WSeaF is your oyster. No, Logan, this is not your playground. You don’t get the first table pick in the cafeteria, and no one wants to sit with you anyone besides the weirdoes who everyone suspects is going to either a) shoot the school up or b) keeps picking their fucking nose and wiping it on their jeans. You’ve come back, supposedly in form, and because you have one win, we’re supposed to suddenly be in awe of you. I’m not afraid of you, Logan. Your accomplishments – all of them – mean absolutely nothing to me. The opinions of others – all of them – mean absolutely nothing to me. The only reason you interest me in the slightest? You have something I want.
Jared reached down and plucked the briefcase from Logan’s hand.
Jared Holmes: What are you without this, Logan? A king without a crown. A truly empty threat. Absolutely nothing. You’re a little man with a vicious harpy who will get bored and leave, just like clockwork. Frankly, we have a company pool here in #BeachKrew about how long until you use that briefcase because Seth will be damned if you run off with it and absolutely discredit his prize, just like you’ve done his company. Unlike you, I’ve had to work for my success, even more so than my brothers in #BeachKrew. If I win the Trilogy Cup, it will be because I forced my way in, rather than it being paved for me. If I swat down Price, Flash, or you for the title it will be because I’ve held a gun to Seth’s head for my shot. Be afraid of facing me, Logan: I’m hungry. And this is not some idiot luchador you face.
But I suppose I’d be breaking theme if I didn’t give feedback on your “fucking stupid” moment. Really, your moment is the same as your stable’s: you provoked me intentionally. You could’ve slipped below the radar, and with Wade out of the championship, we’d have paid you no mind. For a man who’s supposedly this “master of treachery”, you’ve done nothing sly, subtle, or meriting of anything “treacherous”. Cashing in a briefcase when a man is down doesn’t make you “treacherous”. Betraying your teammates is treacherous, but anyone stupid enough to work with you – including Katherine Phoenix in her multiple times you’ve screwed her – deserves betrayal. You don’t scare me. You won’t outsmart me. You won’t beat me. And should you get the Whirlpool Championship, you’ll have me on your porch, knocking on your doorstep. Congratulations, Logan, you’ve made me your enemy. And now? I will drown you.
As the final figure dissipated, Jared closed his eyes to think – Thuggin continued to clap, his eyes alight with pride.
Jim Thuggin: A spirited dissection, Favorite Earth Child. And what of our challenges this week?
Jared’s grin relaxed into a calm smile.
Jared Holmes: Spencer Adams. Grayson Pierce and Andre Holmes. Dag Riddick. A battle royale. Child’s play, Jim. Dustin’s greatest threats in that match are Occulo – who he’s beaten many times successively – and Atreyu – who failed to succeed in Final Destination. Arbiter Wade will crush Dag; this will probably be the #beachbody of the week. I have complete confidence in John and Kyle. And as for Spencer Adams…
Jared opened his eyes and turned back to the window, staring down at the third stone from the sun.
Jared Holmes: I make my triumphant return. My fanfare.
Jared spun once more, the platinum chain with the diamond encrusted CHILLuminati pyramid medallion swinging with the force of the turn. Jared’s voice rose excitedly as his hands took to the air: an artist envisioning his canvas.
Jared Holmes: But there’s so much to do! I’ve hardly been back for a few days, and I don’t know where to begin! But I see it, Jim – I see the final design, and it’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s…
Jared closed his eyes again and drew a deep breath, exhaling with shivered pleasure.
Jared Holmes: It’s sublime. And I mean that in the aesthetic sense, of course.
Thuggin approached his protégé, a thin gray hand with spider-like fingers resting on his shoulder.
Jim Thuggin: Your first test is this week, Favorite Earth Child.
Jared turned to Thuggin, placing his hands on the shoulders of the little gray man.
Jared Holmes: Jim, don’t call me “Earth Child”…
Jared leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous as the sunglasses slid down his nose to reveal inky black eyes staring deep into Thuggin’s.
Jared Holmes: …call me “Harbinger”.
Jared released his grip on Thuggin and turned, making his way to the door and leaving an unfinished dinner. As he strode out, he crushed the still smoldering cigarette butt on the floor beneath the toe of his boot.
Jared Holmes: Prepare my transportation. I shall return to my Brothers immediately.
As the door closed behind him, Thuggin was left in the elegant dining room of his craft alone. Turning to the window, Thuggin quietly examined the planet below and turned over the words of his Earth Child. A strange mixture of emotion went through the Jalaxaritkatusian: anger, anticipation, excitement, insult. The confident return of Jared Holmes – the Chosen One – was going precisely as expected. Still, a final emotion sat in the chest of Jim Thuggin, moving around his various organs and nerves. There was something in the look of Jared’s eye – something lurking within the impenetrable workings of his mind – which brought a feeling out in Jim Thuggin he’d not experienced in a very long time. Perhaps it was the hunger in his grin. Perhaps it was that edge of sadism in his chuckle. But for the first time in a very long time, Jim Thuggin felt fear.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“He feels himself buried in those two infinities, the ocean and the sky, at one and the same time: the one is a tomb; the other is a shroud.”
-Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
From the Diary of Thursday Kerrigan
January 28th, 2016
There’s something different about Jared. I don’t know what it is. Maybe its bcuz he seas me every day of the week – that’s changed (: Maybe its bcuz he told me he loves me. He says I was always the one and he needs me. It’s been so long since I wrote and so much has happened. I don’t even know where to start.
When Dune broke Jared’s shoulder and jaw, I came to visit him at the hospital every week. Then one day he asked I stay with him every day. He’s been so good to me, I hated how they kept him cooped up in that room for those first few weeks after surgery. I tried my best to be there for him. I got him Jollibee halo-halo when he wanted, blended his Panda Express for him, and brought him as much Schlitz as he could drink, even sneaking it in my purse when the doctors got mad. (; When they released him, he moved me into his Santa Monica place. He gets a lot of visitors. I don’t recognize any of them.
He had a lot of visitors at the hospital too. None of them were his usual friends besides Andre who was there a lot and Wade a few times. Everyone who visits Jared is young and beautiful – it’s like he’s gathered a following. Mostly, it’s college students who bitch about how WCF coming to town doesn’t have the crazy #BeachKrew parties it used to. A lot of people ask him about Jim Thuggin, Wade, and all that talk about the Prophecy. Jared couldn’t talk much with his jaw wired shut but everyone sat around him listening to everything he said. He didn’t fuck any of the girls, he always placed his arm around me.
He read a lot, too. A lot of odd books he’d ordered online. Lots of UFO stuff. Every night we took LSD and laid on the roof of his place, looking up at the stars. He told me that sharks were swimming in the skies, and if you looked hard enough, you could sea the ripples in their wake. He point out stars to me – Castor, Pollux, Pleiades, and Vega. He said there was a sea in the sky (I remember reading about this in my astrology book : D) and the sharks were around Deneb and Fomalhaut. He was right. I saw them.
Maybe that’s what’s different about Jared. He looks at the ocean a lot (we live right by the beach), but he looks at the sky more, too. He said that Jim used to speak of a Galactic Prophecy that brought him, Wade, and Andre together. He held my hand and it felt like an orchestra as he said he was going to be the king of the skies and the sea. He wants me to be his queen. When we kissed, he said I tasted like Las Vegas.
Last night we took a boat out to the Channel Islands. Everyone was waiting, and you could sea the bonfires glow from the water. Jared had arranged a big party to celebrate his return to WSeaF – he called in a “gathering of the faithful.” He bought the most beautiful dress for me, black and flowing with disco ball mask to go with his. The cheers were so loud when we arrived they drowned out the music. Even at the parties he used to throw, I’d never sean people act like this towards Jared. They waded out into the water as the boat approached, hands up and mouths open as he paced the sides, popping pills in their mouths. When we landed, we were hoisted onto their shoulders and taken to the stage they’d constructed. Andre was already waiting for him. He was the only #BeachKrew member I recognized there.
Jared raised his hands, and everyone was quiet. He spoke of the Galactic Prophecy and talked about the ocean. He talked about the party and how society wanted us to get jobs at law firms or businesses. He said that the world was bad and we had to escape. Then he ate a stamp of LSD and gave me one – everyone went wild with cheers. He called everyone brother and sister, and he said that #BeachKrew would never die or grow tired when he returned. He promised to keep the movement going and that the Celestial Sharks would bless us. We lit a pentagram in the middle of the beach and danced around it. Jared isn’t really a Satanist, he says it scares people he doesn’t want away and means revolution. Jared is incredibly smart, he talked about Satan being beautiful, kind, and enlightened but was cast down for it.
The rest of the night was spent drinking, dancing, and taking pills. As the sun began to rise, Jared lead everyone out into the water and continued the party there. We fell asleep in each others arms on the beach. I woke up back at our place bcuz Jared moved me back to the boat. I was too drunk to notice : P
I wonder why the others haven’t been around. I’ve asked Jared, but he gets quiet and changes the subject. I think maybe they had an argument. I know Jared says things are going to change when he gets back. He talks a lot about the WSeaF and how #BeachKrew cannot stand without him. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I know that he’s different now. He still has the same smile and same beautiful eyes I’ve known, but there’s this glimmer in the depths of them. Something brilliant yet sort of scary. He doesn’t act much different or anything (maybe says “bro” a little less : P) but its like he knows something special. Maybe it has to do with the Galactic Prophecy. Maybe it has to do with the Celestial Sharks. I do know Jared is hungry to be back. And things are going to be different. I can’t wait to be atop the world with him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hey there. Did you miss me?
Oh, you, always playing hard to get! Cut the foreplay, WSeaF – you know you’re thrilled to have me back. After all, how much fun was everything without me? Who could’ve stepped into these shoes? K.L. Henson? Rabid? Wade? Katherine-fucking-Phoenix?
KEK
That’s the word of the day and the word of ad infinitum. Not “LEL”. Not “LOLZ”. Not whatever faggoty variation you people are trying to sell as #TRUdank. Who runs the Department of Le Rare Dank May-Mays? Fukken #BeachKrew. Monopoly, nilla. You can’t upSanders a fukken Pepe without giving me a cut of that mr skeltal good calcium. And don’t you even try to peddle that dirty “boudle” shit in my hood. Know why you missed me, WSeaF? Because none of you motherfuckers know how to run quality control.
Speaking of quality control, it’s been embarrassing to watch you piss away all the audience confidence WAR got you, Spencer. I mean, seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? You go tie me for third, beat me for the #Bromance Championship, and now you’re sniffing butts with Adam Young? What the everliving fuck is this? I remember laying in my hospital, Thursday reading off Bleacher Report updates and telling me that Adam Young was talking all this shit about you. And you know what I said through a wired jaw and head full of morphine?
“Eh, fuck it. Adams won’t bite.”
Holy shit, the opiates affected my brain. What a fucking chump you are, Spencer. What a fucking loser. You know the difference between real and fake-real? Check this shit: we aren’t going to lift a finger to crush Dragon Klan. They can come out and spray paint people or whatever the fuck they want to do, but I’m not even going to fucking breathe on them. None of us are. Because fuck the Dragon Klan. Fuck Adam Young; that should be the only opinion you have on him.
Instead? You look like a fucking child pushing back on other kids. You’re a midget on stilts who tried to walk with the giants, only to let other midgets distract him and show his true colors. You’re not even close to my league. This is Pop Warner versus the Carolina Panthers in a full contact scrimmage, and I’m going to savor finally putting your head on my wall where it belongs. How dare you fucking step to me, Adams. How dare you ever pop your mouth off and think you could step into the same ring as me or compete with me on the same level at any time at all. You’ve gotten lucky twice now. That’s two times too many.
Are you ready for this, Spencer? Are you ready for me to make an example out of you? The #FuccboiGenocide continues this week, and your blood is splattering the altar of the 6ix God to mark the 6econd Coming. I could probably keep going on about how I’m going to break you or how much you suck … but something tells me that’s just not necessary.
The Antidote has failed. The virus has overtaken the system.
Spencer Adams dies on Sunday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing myself tightly against his body, I brought my face into Jared’s hair and took a long smell. It was always one of my favorite things about Jared (besides his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his voice, the way he kisses me, the way he holds my hand, the way he fucks me, and –well – you get it), and today was no exception. I think his fragrance was Azzaro Chrome – he doesn’t always need to buy expensive if something a little more proletarian smells good. I think fresh citrus smells suit him so much better on perfect days like this.
His hand came up and stroked the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes at his touch and kissed him on the neck before laying my head on his shoulder. The cotton shirt (an ash gray shirt depicting a distressed screen print of a classic Mickey Mouse doing a handstand, courtesy of Junk Food Tees, an online retailer known for its nouveau-retro takes on casual fashion) felt soft beneath my cheek. The shoulder shifted from underneath me as Jared turned and cupped a hand under my chin. I opened my eyes to stare back into those beautiful blue pools of his. He smiled and my stomach rolled over.
Jared Holmes: C’mon, hun. Let’s keep walking.
We stood and continued our walk along the limestone cliffs of the Santa Barbara shore. The cool ocean breeze drifted past us, and the chill in the air gave me gooseflesh up and down my legs. The white linen Brunello Cucinelli dress swayed with the breeze, and while it didn’t cover my arms, Jared’s arm around my shoulders made me feel warm and safe. My hand reached for his, and he took it immediately; it’s so nice how he’ll give me both hands while we walk. We’d spent the day being driven around Paso Robles for wine tasting (Jared has an amazing palatte) and pampering ourselves at the spas before being taken down to Santa Barbara for dinner by the sea and this walk. I think Jared knows how busy and stressed he’s going to be going back into WSeaF – this is his way of showing me how much he loves me before his time is a little more limited or he’s a little more on edge.
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I turned to look at him.
Thursday Kerrigan: Yeah?
He smiled at me, that warm and appreciative smile which seems to tell me so much without saying anything.
Jared Holmes: You’ve been incredible the past few months. Everything. From helping me recover to spreading my word to helping me in the pursuit of our “friend”. I just wanted to thank you.
My insides turned to butterflies – I can’t explain why he does this to me. I can’t help but turn red and snuggle against him.
Thursday Kerrigan: I’d do anything for you. Anything.
His smile held.
Jared Holmes: Yeah. I know.
We stopped, and I turned to let his arm fall from my shoulder so I could take both of his hands. I tilted my head in that way he likes as I looked at him.
Thursday Kerrigan: We’ve really got him, don’t we? You and me?
I couldn’t help but giggle – it was helping Jared with his work on J which made me the happiest. J was such an odd but fun creature – so perfect without having any of the perfect qualities which made Jared so much more perfect. A beautiful box for Jared to fill. To make better. Nothing could have been more of an honor than for me to bring J in. A little light appeared in Jared’s eyes – that light he gets whenever we talk about J. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world to watch Jared get excited.
Jared Holmes: We’re close. So very, very close. But let’s not get too confident. It’s going to take a lot of pushing and pulling. A lot of sawing slowly away at the support beams before the bridge collapses.
He paused for a moment to think.
Jared Holmes: But yes. You’ve been indespensible.
I pushed myself up against his chest, tucking my head under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist. His arms fell around my shoulders and squeezed me in.
Thursday Kerrigan: I love you Jared.
He squeezed me tighter – that’s his way of saying it back. I’d do anything and everything for him to squeeze me like that for the rest of my life. The moment was broken by the beep of a horn – a few meters away, our ride signaled its arrival and waited for us. Jared beamed.
Jared Holmes: It’s time to go meet with the others. Are you ready?
I giggled.
Thursday Kerrigan: Silly, of course I am. I’m always ready.
He kissed me on the top of my head and walked with me to the limo, holding open the door for me to get in. Inside, we immediately set to work stripping off our date clothes to dress ourselves for rendezvous with the other members of #BeachKrew. As I sat in just my panties applying my eyeliner with the compact mirror I’d brought, I felt his arm slip across my stomach and cup under my breast. With a single kiss behind my ear, he made me melt into him. There couldn’t be the better end to a perfect day – wine, a walk, and making love to the man I love.
The Jared I know is not the Jared anyone else knows. In the same way, the Thursday that Jared knows isn’t the same one everyone else knows. I know the Jared before and between the costumes – the one who goes on walks and enjoys making love in the back of a Limo. The Thursday everyone else knows is the Queen of Blades – the seductive priestess of the Six God. And sometimes it can be a hard role to play – to tempt men with things that only Jared will ever know. To even suggest I could be anything but only his. But for him? For my Six God? I’d do anything.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Deep within the House of Balloons, a nightclub owned by a certain Mr. E.J. Holmes Jr., a table sat abandoned. Rocks glasses piled high with bent straws and fruit rinds, several metal buckets sat with tepid pools of water and empty champagne bottles bobbing lazily, and the seats were empty save for the gaggle of women abandoned along with the table. A scene of post-bacchanalian chaos such as this could only indicate that #BeachKrew had been here moments earlier, leaving empty bottles, used razors, and anxious women.
These men, however, now sat within a dark and smoky room tucked away from the curious eyes of patrons or the staff. The room was lit with faint purple lights, a few white lights shining down on the various seats gathered around a long meeting table. At this table, #BeachKrew indulged in their “midnight breakfast”: Blue Velvet-weed spliffs, BeavEater and tonic for cottonmouth, and a line of that Kathy P yayo white girl to keep your head clear. At the head of the table sat the Six God, flanked by Wade on his right and Rabid on his left, Kemp beside Rabid, Beaver beside Wade, Andre beside Kemp, Gable beside Beaver, Sandy Coconutz, and finally Jim Thuggin at the far end of the table.
After Jared finished his line, Thursday bent over to pick up the gold tray which lay before him, and after bussing his place, she circled the table to clear space before the others. Jared leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet idly onto the table as he took another long drag from his spliff – though a casual glance about to room would reassure that Jared was not alone in such an informal display. Of the gathered men (and woman), only Johnny Rabid and Jim Thuggin seemed to be sitting up straight, eyes on the 6ix God.
Jared Holmes: So. Here we are. Come together, right now, over me.
At the beginning of Jared’s speech, the group went silent, eyes forward. Kicking his legs down, Jared sat up and pushed his chair from the table. He rose and paced the room as he spoke.
Jared Holmes: F15teen came, and F15teen went. That is almost everything I’m going to say about it at this meeting.
His hand shot out, a single pointing finger raised to a now-mostly empty trophy case – only the WCF Tag Titles remained.
Jared Holmes: Let that, instead, serve as any speech I could give on F15teen. Instead, we’re going to focus on the matter at hand. F15teen proved interesting if for the developments.
Kyle Kemp: You mean the Family.
Jared Holmes: I mean the Team of Torture.
Johnny Rabid was the first to smile, his eyes alight as he leaned forward.
Johnny Rabid: Undermine their unity. Interesting.
Jared Holmes: From now on, we shall never refer to the Family as such. We shall refer to them as Tee-Oh-Tee, Team of Treachery, or Team of Torture. Especially Team of Torture. Next up, we’ll be holding a tribute for Oblivion at Slam.
Dustin Beaver: Didn’t you, in particular, hate Oblivion?
Jared Holmes: And I’d like to see them prove it. No, we will honor Oblivion because it further cuts out their argument that we’re “bad guys”. And if Morrigana has any connection to Oblivion, she’ll see every subtle jab we take during his tribute. Any questions thus far?
Wade raised a hand.
Jared Holmes: Swag?
Wade Moor: Needs more dank sea urchins.
Jared’s lips curled into a smile.
Jared Holmes: Yes, it does, GodNilla. Anyone have suggestions for Dank May-Mayology?
The sound of Le Rare Dank May-Mays caused Sandy’s head to jerk up from her book (Something dumb about water) and shoot a hand up.
Sandy Coconutz: Oh! I wanna do this! I gotta plan!
Jared Holmes: Granted. Sandy, have fun.
In an instant, Sandy withdrew her phone from her post and began tapping away, chuckling to herself as she whispered to herself about “♫ getting her ZMac on ♫”. Jared’s eyes turned back to the group.
Jared Holmes: Wade will be engaging with Dag this week. Group thoughts?
Jared Holmes: My feelings exactly.
Jared’s eyes scanned the room before resting on the penetrating stare of Rabid. Jared strode around the table before standing beside the chair of his longtime #BeachKrew rival and former usurper. Rabid pushed his chair back and rose as well. The two men studied one another for a quiet moment as the laughter left the room.
Johnny Rabid: We’ve had our differences, Jared.
Jared Holmes: We have, Johnny.
Johnny Rabid: …I will follow if you lead.
Rabid offered a hand. Jared accepted it.
Jared Holmes: As former leader of #BeachKrew, what are you feelings on the matter at hand.
Johnny Rabid smiled. Blood ran cold. His voice was low and monotonous, the matter-of-fact voice of a killer.
Johnny Rabid: We systematically break them. From now on, we deal with this. Matches, run-ins, doesn’t matter. We snuff these motherfuckers out.
Jared smiled in return. The shark smile and slasher smile were indistinguishable in levels of malice.
Johnny Rabid: That’s my opinion. We do them LV-426 style.
Jared nodded.
Jared Holmes: Then bleach the halls clean.
