Post by John Rabid on Mar 6, 2016 17:40:16 GMT -5
TIMEBOMB
Post Match demolition. 02/28/2016
Everything was reset, right to the beginning.
Joey Malignaggi's confused eyes blinked open; his bruised lungs heaving with a tortured wheeze as he crawled on all fours like a lost and lonely toddler before the assembled might of #beachkrew. That damaged little puppy from the Bronx was reliving an East 188th street clip show as he dragged his buckled knees across the canvass, each stumble opening up another doorway of perception into his scornful mind, another Arthur Avenue nightmare made flesh. All those cold, fearful, Little Italy nights when Joey was frightened and alone as a child where now combined into one cascading wave, that crashed upon the shore of his cakewalk World Title win over Jayson Price. Swamping the scene whole with blood and malice as Joey choked on his own schadenfreude.
All Joey's nightmares, all of his fears were now made flesh. Given shape and form now and called #beachkrew. In that one, single moment, Joey Flash was drowning in an Ocean ruled by the alphas of the Federation, as Wade Moor smiled and intensified Joey's pain with a stomp to the back of the Italian American's neck. A move that echoed through time and made an old man named Dewey smile.
Joey could do nothing to stop the tide of violence and hurt as it rose and encircled him like a gang of perched vultures, #beachkrew had arrive en mass, surrounding the newly crowned champion and making it known that this was just a transitional moment for the belt. It would be coming home. To the sea. To Wade Moor. While Joey would be from this moment on a spent force; his motor functions running on empty with no more fight left to give. All Joey's metabolism could do now was simply cope as best it could with the disarray that had been set upon his body. Flash's eyes fluttered in the ring as a veil of thick blood ran into them, the guitar shot from Wade leaving an indelible mark upon his raked epidermis.
What Joey saw through that crimson, painful haze, Johnny Rabid was unsure; but what the Ripper did know at this particular juncture in time was that at his feet in the ring...bleeding like a stuffed pig, was the new WCF World Heavyweight Champion. A newly crowned hero for the people it briefly seemed. A man that only a few moments before had kicked out of the downfall, a messiah to the world; now nothing, reduced to this quivering mess...a legend put to sleep in under six seconds. It was as if time had been reset, and now Joey Flash was that old man who the one punch man had visited for collection money that cold New York night in November over a year ago.
Wade Moor: I will never go away, I am eternal, WE ARE ETERNAL!
“Truer than you think” whispered Rabid to himself, as Andre Aquarius, and his fellow #beachkrew pallbearer Dustin Beaver lifted the dead weight carcass of Joey Flash onto it's feet. Wade picked up the world title to shove in Joey's face, yet as he did so, a glint of golden light fell upon Rabid's features; bathing his cold, stern face in it's comforting glow. Then, just for a few seconds, time stopped. That title; used now to humiliate a fallen man; a blunt instrument to smash into the face of another human being, it became something more, something so...so....
Perfect.
And their, in that instant as Joey Flash stumbled back down onto the mat in slow, slow motion; a crown of blood rising up from the impact, Rabid could hear it. Beethoven was calling. The Allegretto was singing. That glorious seventh; the tick tock of perfection as Joey's skull bounced off the mat with a dull, silenced thud. Johnny felt his hand reach out, syncopating with the impact; alive and eager to hold onto that title. The blood of a wild card in his veins. Like a virus, like a rush of instant insanity that sent out a siren song to Rabid's always analytical mind to reach out, just to reach out and take the belt.
Forget Final Destination. Forget the trilogy cup. Forget the Tag Belts. forget Dune. What else is there? What else can matter more than that world title? Look at it. LOOK AT IT! IT IS PERFECTION!
Jared Holmes smiled as he clapped on Wade's display. Suddenly the slow motion celebration speed up into real time as Rabid snapped back into a ring that was still being presiding over by Joey Flash and his modern day crucifixion. Rabid remembered instantly now why he had sought so vehemently to destroy Dune. It was to honor a debt to the harbinger. To even a score between them. This wasn't Kane and a cup of coffee; this was making one man's obituary a truth. Protecting a family from a horror that could reawaken at any time. From a monster Rabid knew only too well.
It was about that scalp. The head of an Ubermensch, hung upon a wall. Besides, Johnny Rabid doesn't take a ticket and wait in line, he takes what he wants, when he wants. Dune doesn't get his way just because he thinks he's a superman. That kind of arrogance leads to penalties. And distance between allies it would seem.
As Aquaberry Dolphin by Riff Raff began to play, the world saw the facade of the world champion stripped away, and in it's place crawled a small, little man that had been destroyed. Decimated. And utterly humbled. This thing, this Joey Flash thug from the gutter had been sent back home, exposed, and ruined. Joey's fleeting moment of glory, was now a shattered dream; a hope that had once been cultivated for nearly a year and a half, now scalped from the consciousness of the crowd, ripped apart, and set upon by a rabid beast. Joey Flash was as harmless now as a glass of warm milk. He was as tranquil as Dune trying to shoot with intent. As limp and ineffective as #OcculoTheCarried in a single's match. Or any match for that matter.
Joey Flash's humiliation echoed all around the arena. It reverberated across the fans that looked down dejected; seeping into their muted cheers, their hearts now still and forlorn. A once fierce roar of approval was now cowering in the dark; it's bravery silenced with a Brosideon punch. But what was most evident during this perfect devastation of a man's career wasn't the stillness of the crowds, nor the cries of foul play from the announce table. No, what really mattered now, what really counted, was how totally isolated Joey Flash was.
Joey Flash; about to be seated upon the throne of the WCF power elite, about to become the new face of the World Championship Federation; about to be ordained as the chosen son of Seth Lerch himself. Joey Flash, moments away from becoming a made man of combat sports entertainment...was completely, and utterly alone.
No Occulo. No Dune. No Seth Lerch. No sign of Alessandra at ringside to support him. Her raven headed, copper skinned beauty never around to stand by her supposed man when he needs her the most. No family members from the old neighborhood to cheer him on. Nothing. Just dead air as Flash's eyes looked around for comfort, for help. Dead air. Silence as his gaze fell on nobody, because no one gives a fuck about Joey Flash. Not now, not ever. When you burn your bridges, that leaves you stranded; for Joey Flash, his island, his prison was an eighteen by eighteen wrestling ring and it was #beachkrew property.
It was as if all the ambition Joey had over the last year had turned around and blighted him; all that intense, simmering, self loathing rage, all of Joey's sickening, plastic, see-through respect, it all had forced his mistrusting support group away just when he needed it the most. Joey Flash was a one punch man with but one goal, to reach the top. Not just for five minutes, but for a sustained reign. That was the dream; the obsession. And what had that obsession gotten Joey Flash?
A ring full of enemies, and not a single friend in sight.
Some lessons you learn are difficult to stomach, they take chunks out of your ego, leaving them to rot out in the midday sun. Right now, as Joey raised a weak hand in defiance; flipping Wade a trembling digit under the burning lights of the arena, a lesson was laughing in the face of the One Punch Man; it was spitting truth into his eyes that stung as more blood ran down his face and dripped onto the mat. It was a lesson that Joey was taught the hard way at Timebomb, but one that Rabid knew already only too well.
Friends, they do have benefits. If only Joey knew this, if only he understood and hadn't once turned around to Occulo and said “The same hand I’ll reach out for friendship, I’ll beat you to death with.”, if only Occulo hadn't remembered that and decided to split with his ninja sensei. If only Dune didn't think twice about hanging around after he woke up, his scrambled thoughts lingering on Howard Black and that broken arm his best friend had suffered at the hands of Flash. If only Dune hadn't been blindsided from Rabid's Kingdom Destroyer in the first place, an easy to execute assault because Dune is an arrogant fool that thinks he is an unstoppable overman when in fact he's a burnt out husk that is one good match away from being gone. If only that match could be sooner than explosion, Rabid would end this quick...
If only...If only....
BACKSTAGE
Above the tunnels and corridors of the arena; a slow marching procession of fans trundled out over the encroached nest of Wrestlers and huddled staff below. This slow, constant rumble above shook the plaster off the ceiling of the makeshift office of one Seth Lerch, as his face managed to turn yet another, deeper shade of red; existing now somewhere far beyond the spectrum of normal human endurance, a boiling point reached in a never land of exponential rage.
Seth Lerch: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IDIOTS JUST DO?
Lerch flung his arms into the air with absolute exasperation, knocking a meter high stack of papers off his desk that flew around the room and danced above the heads of #beachkrew. This was a nightmare scenario for the owner of the company. While Flash still carries nothing but apparent disdain for Seth; Seth knew it wouldn't last for long. Joey Flash was, and will forever be, a cunt. And cunts love to be loved, especially by those that write their checks and make their matches. They love the power plays, they love sucking up to the boss until the world throws up. They love to feel safe.
Seth couldn't promise safety; perhaps Flash wouldn't except it anyway; but no doubt the attack made a deal even more far off; Seth had none of Logan's Family to call upon; nor the DRG to back up his agenda.
And now there was #beachkrew, the team had pushed any attempt at reconciliation with Flash still further out of reach. Seth so wanted to have his new golden boy under his wing; safe and secure. Flash was the brother he always wanted, the cool kid from down the lane. Joey Flash was like all those kids Seth wanted to be as a child growing up, the bad seeds who had the smokes and the girls and boosted cars on the weekend for fun. Sometimes, in a mirror unseen in a motel room, Seth would break out a comb and test out a Joey Flash center parting, shaking his head and instantly distancing himself from the result. It looked ridiculous on his massive head and flimsy body. Seth didn't like it. But that didn't stop his crush on Flash from blossoming.
Seth Lerch: You, Rabid!
Jonathan Rabid leaned calmly against a wall as the rest of #beachkrew flanked him. When it came to dealing with Seth; this was Rabid's territory.
Johnny Rabid: If you're expecting an apology; prepare for disappointment, Seth. Sometimes we need to exert our power. Tonight was one of those night's. I told you once that we could make this company great again. Let us--
Seth Lerch: How? HOW? By busting open my new champion? The one man I can count-
Johnny Rabid: Count on? To do what? Serve his own interests; fuel his own agenda? Imperium. Jonny Fly. Time and again Flash meddles in this companies business, and time and again the WCF is worse off for it. He's a naive man, Seth. For all his street smarts he has no insight into the inner workings of this business. What do you think this company would be like now without Joey Flash? Think about it. We'd still have the merchandise powerhouse that was ICE Beckman, we'd probably still have the Poondocks and the Vapour Kings. We'd still have Jonny fuckin' Fly on the roster! Joey Flash is a fucking cancer, and he's on the verge of unleashing a worst case scenario on us all. That arrogant little fuck has the title now in his grasp. And what do you think he'll do with it, Seth? What glorious next step will this company take under his command?
Cute animals...One direction stables with homophobic agendas...aliens.
We're on the edge of disaster, Seth. This idiotic cunt will be the end of us. He's going to take the credibility of the title and destroy it. Ruin it's heritage and piss on it's history, because that's what a Joey Flash does. He stumbles from one idiotic master plan to the next. People buy into his schemes because he has charisma; but once you're halfway across the rope bridge he can't help himself but start cutting the vines. That's what a self destructive personality does; it takes what works and breaks it, because inside that deluded little mind of poor old Joey Flash there's a damaged little child crying out for It's mommy, and no one is answering.
Seth Lerch: Stop it, Joey is--
Johnny Rabid: Joey Flash is the dagger that will plunge itself into the heart of this company, he'll end it if you let him. Let us lance the infection, Seth. Wade Moor is your champion; your broseidon, your Lord God of the deep. He can steer us out of dangerous waters. All he needs from you, Seth; is the carte blanche to be the hero I know resides within. Give this man...
Rabid points at Wade who tips the brim of his straw hat. A smile that would slice steel.
Johnny Rabid: The keys to the kingdom. And I promise you Seth, Wade Moor will be your knight in shining armor that defends this kingdom from all comers. From the interlopers and the transients that threaten it's shores with bogus claims and turgid careers. Never again will a Jay Omega or a Jayson Price infect that World Heavyweight Title with mediocrity and cowardice. And as for Joey Flash and his Sentinels?
Rabid stepped forward; his leer was like a virus now, downloaded directly into Seth's bruised and fractured subconscious.
Johnny Rabid: They'll be taught a valuable lesson in respect. For far too long Dune and Occulo have disgraced this company with their pointless kilq of soap opera theatrics; bouncing from one idiotic event to the next. What kind of house of cards has these people at it's center, think about it:
Joey Flash: Son, Christian, dies at the hands of Dune. Joey is a member of the Cosa Nostra; a Sicilian crime organization dedicated to fear and oppression. Yet Joey embraces Dune as a brother because they share a warrior's spirit. Really? That makes everything okay now? That's all you need to throw your whole belief system away? Seriously, what the fuck is this shit?
Dune: this lumbering dunce embraces Flash as a brother, even though Flash damn near snapped the arm off of former friend Howard Black; a man tipped to be a future world champion. Black never managed to capture again his former heights, ending up a retired mess. But that's okay thinks Dune, because Flash flushed Genyu, erm, I mean “his guest” down a metaphysical toilet. So all hail Flash.
Occulo: Should be announced as residing from Stockholm the way this man has been ritually abused and beaten by Joey Flash; a man who Occulo now bows down to and whose boots he constantly licks. Remember that one time Seth you gave Occulo a chance to prove himself as a singles champion? Remember what happened next to that U.S. Title? Occulo is a *bottler, pure and simple. He's a quivering wreck of a man who is currently doing his best Rad Russian impersonation in the mountains of Japan. Trying to do to himself what so many others have done to him before; to destroy his body and spirit. #OcculoTheCarried latest psychosis is believing this will somehow turn him into a man. Too bad for Occy that's not how it works. Being abused may be the only path he knows, especially after the dismantling he suffered at the hands of Dustin Beaver, but his sadomasochist behavior will never grant him the respect and the accolades he craves. Just more losses and more embarrassments as the truth finally sinks in; that #OcculoTheCarried is a henchman; a lackey. A face in the crowd but never the star. #OcculoTheCarried can deconstruct himself all he wants, but the truth? The actual truth? He doesn't have it. And he never fucking will. Little Johnny Mullins; as lost and as dead as his father. Wandering from singles loss to singles loss, until the tickets arrive and then he's flying again. Because...
*bottler, an English term for coward. See also: Occulo
Johnny Rabid: Let us fix this, Seth. One night. One Slam. If this house of cards can stand, then lets see it stand. One more time.
OUTSIDE SETH'S OFFICE:
Rabid closes the door behind him as he faces the rest of the sub-aquatic outfit down. Wade smiled at the thought of getting his hands on Joey Flash once more in a three on three contest; while Beaver seemed troubled; somewhat distant for a moment.
Dustin Beaver: Look, we haven't spoken much before, Rab; but I have to ask you man, I'm not...
Johnny Rabid: What?
Dustin Beaver: I'm not....
Moor intervenes.
Wade Moor: What boi? SPIT IT OUT!
Dustin Beaver:..I'm not the Occulo of this team, I'm I?
Moor bursts out laughing while Rabid just shakes his head, answering the question with an emphatic “no”. A moment passes before Rabid's acting techniques finally kick in, his stone face smiling that crooked grin of his.
Johnny Rabid: Trust me, Dustin. No one on this team is an Occulo.
Dustin Beaver: Yeah, I guess it was kind of insulting. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I still have the stench of that douche-bag on my hands, you know? After I smashed his teeth down his throat it's still there, lingering. Occulo's hard to wash off man, that shit gets under your fingernails.
Wade Moor: He's a parasite, Dustin. Occulo wants to be close to victory. No matter what it takes, even if it means being carried on your knuckles.
Dustin shudders as he glares at his hands.
Dustin Beaver: Fuck...okay, I'll try bleach.
Johnny Rabid just shakes his head as Jared motions into view. The two borderline psychopaths take a few steps away from the group, Thursday giving her man some room.
Jared “6ixGod” Holmes: Dune, finally I see. Are you sure about this?
Johnny Rabid: About what? Taking on the most dominant force this company has outside of us? Of course I am. I want this. I need this. You saw what I did to him tonight, Jared. The way Dune's head bounced off the canvass. I held his dreams in the palm of my hand and I squeezed. I robbed him of everything, his legacy is in ashes because of me. He'll nebr have that back to back Trilogy cup he so desperately sought. I've derailed his road to another World title and dragged him into my personal hell, one I've been preparing for him since that night on Slam. Dune took me for granted that night; even when I saw that glint of surprise in his eyes as I stood toe to toe with him. Maybe it was the guest, or maybe just his natural arrogance, but Dune turned his back on me. That's a crime of ignorance, and it's cost is survival. I'm going to crush the life of him, Jared. Shatter his spine and snap his neck. I'll destroy Dune again next week as I have this; because when you're dealing with the Dune's of this word, they always have a blind spot. They always consider themselves to be invincible. Until it's too late. The curse of the supermen, running through Dune's veins.
Jared “6ixGod” Holmes: And now you have his attention.
Johnny Rabid: Of course. That was always my promise, remember?
HOSPITAL
A few days has passed since Dune's vicious and brutal Slam attack on the 6ix god; a mauling that has left Jared Holmes mute and broken. The former shark is connected up at this time to a heart monitor as he lays there silent; his jaw fused still with a mesh of steel to aid with the healing process. The beep of that monitor a metronome reminder of the hours, days and weeks ahead of painful recovery Jared will have to endure.
The floor around the bed is smeared with the remains of custom made hospital food; flung to the floor in disgust by it's disgruntled recipient. A semi circle of soft pate that was especially mixed up for Jared to consume; it looks like baby food.
A set of smart shoes side steps the mess and shuffles to a halt.
“Hello, Jared”
Jonathan Rabid has arrived, his one and only secret meeting. He's dressed in his customary Charcoal suit. His lowers his gaze away from Jared for a moment; the weight of the crime before almost too much to gaze upon. Johnny sighs. Pulls up a seat, dragging a plastic chair across the linoleum floor as he clutches a sorry bouquet of Tulips in a free hand.
Johnny Rabid: The flowers aren't my idea, they're the wives. She sends her regards by the way.
No reaction from Jared. Johnny pulls the chair in closer, scraping that floor.
Johnny Rabid: I don't make promises lightly, Jared. You may not know me yet, you may just think I'm just a heater, hired to light a fire under your team, but I can promise you this; no one harms a member of my crew and gets away with it. I take such matters very seriously. This Dune...he thinks the world revolves around him. That the sun rises out of his arse. I've seen his kind come and go and mission times, with always the same result. That look; etched upon their face, the look of shock and confusion. They ask how, they ask how over and over again as if the answer will change. But it never does; because that answer is always me. I am the answer to this, Jared. I am the truth that Dune will learn. I'll teach it to him quick; so that his equilibrium is forever off balance. That's how giants fall, harbinger. That's how you slay a God. This Dune, Jared, he's an animal that has to be put down, a child killer that brushes off death without a second thought. You have to put monsters like that down. Even if you are one to begin with.
Jared seemed confused by this.
Johnny Rabid: Maybe we're getting a little too ahead of ourselves here. Know this though; in the coming months; you'll need to be as strong as vicious as you've ever been. Faster too. A war is coming, Jared. Thuggin is too soft and too compassionate to explain things as they are, but I know you can sense it. We're going to have our lives soaked in blood before we see the other side. Prepare for this. While I prepare for Dune.
A moment passes, Rabid stands and leans in on the equipment; smells the IV bag. Smiles as Jared seems nervous.
Johnny Rabid: Gravedigger keeping things clean I see. Good.
Jared attempts a smile. The pain shooting up his jawline.
Johnny Rabid: That pain you're feeling now. Store that. Keep it safe. One day soon you'll leave this hospital, and that pain will need a new home. Save it for someone special. Then let them know your story.
Rabid turned, dumping the flowers on the chair as he left. The door slamming shut behind him while Jared consider those words carefully, and remembered.
NEW YORK, TIMES SQUARE
#Chamber installation. Friday: 04/03/2016
The hand on the famous Times Square clock moves a few inches closer to 13:00 hundred hours as a large, amassed crowd of eager onlookers, a contingent made up of mostly of tourists and WCF fans answering the call on twitter, gathers around a 20ft high square object, a structure situated smack center in the middle of the square. The object's true dimensions are masked from view by four large sheets of reflective black plastic that rebound back the onlooker's huddled curiosity as they take selfies of their reflections in the strange black resin.
Overhead, the clatter of a police helicopter observes the scene with God like clarity; The square object is situated on a plinth; which is shrouded in a large, red carpet. A cordoned off arena, patrolled by New Yawk's finest, has twenty chairs set out for possible V.I.P guests as the moment approaches.
A Limousine and four large SUV's navigate a designated path towards the object. The motorcade is flanked by four police bikes, sirens screaming as they surround the vehicles, two front, two back, to ensure it's safety.
INSIDE THE LIMO
Johnny Rabid, Wade Moor and Dustin Beaver sit in abject opulence. Rabid has a large Starbucks coffee in hand, the smoldering liquid is never touched, just a prop, while Wade Moor knocks back a shot of bloody Mary from a silver hip flask. Dustin's face is pressed against the glass of the limo as he smiles, the lunacy of it all not lost on the young, maverick competitor.
Dustin Beaver: Have you ever seen anything like this? This is insane!
Rabid smiles.
Johnny Rabid: The insanity hasn't begun just yet, Dustin; this is the preamble. Wait until the hand hits and it's thirteen hundred. Then the fun begins.
Wade Moor: Boi! Yo have some darkness in yo son to plan this; some great and knowing darkness that parades it's evil. I commend you sir!
Johnny Rabid: Thank you, Wade.
Wade takes another shot of that Bloody Mary as he lets out a low, long howl; it reverberates just beneath his breath. Eyes daring left and right to the direction of the overhead chopper as it circles. Then the smile, a snake of insanity that creeps across his face.
Moments later. The clock hand reaches thirteen.
The limo has arrived as Rabid exits; flanked by Beaver and Wade. The crowd screams as the four sheets of black plastic surrounding the structure prove to be, in actuality, just a set of pulled taunt reflective canvasses; they drop to the floor, revealing a fresco beneath of extreme WCF hyper-violence; the ultimate battleground for bloodshed; THE NIGHTMARE CHAMBER.
The doors to the now parked four SUV's open, as members of the Worlds press exit. They take their positions in the V.I.P zone awaiting Rabid and his cohorts, who have now entered the cell and are being seated at a red desk; smart suits and a Hawaiian shirt are mic'd up by tech hands as the strangest press conference in WCF history is about to begin.
We hear a few bars of Aqua-berry Dolphin as out steps the mastermind of #beachkrew...Jimophy Thuggin.
Jimophy Thuggin: Ladies and gentlemen...gathered members of the esteemed press associations of the world...It is MY HONOR, to officially announce today DAH WINNAH, OF MAY'S XIII MATCH WITH JAY OMEGA!
….JOHNNNNNNNYYYYYYY RAAAAAAABIDDDDDDDD!!!!!
Rabid stands as “Death Breath” by Bring me the Horizon thunders out over the speakers. Johnny smiles and spins on the spot in front of a mostly booing crowd. Johnny soaks in the “adulation” for a few moments before speaking.
Johnny Rabid: Today is a momentous occasion, ladies nd gentlemen. Today is the first time in WCF history that a member of the WCF Galaxy has been awarded a match win before the date of the contest. Some will say this is just a prank; a hoax. But it is none of these things. This is no paradox; this is reality; this is the future of the company because now it, and all those that stand against #beachkrew now know the future. It's one where Jonathan Rabid destroys supermen; where Jonathan Rabid takes on the superegos and the ubermensch's and annihilates them. Burning away the fallacies they promote with the acid touch of my talent. Dune, Occulo and Joey Flash will learn this lesson this coming Sunday. The same lesson Jay Omega fought so hard to avoid; but even he couldn't outrun the fragility of a heart that gave out once it knew who it's opponent would be.
Jay Omega was the smart one; he had the good grace to die before I had to sully my hands with his presence. This Sunday I may not be as lucky, but then, neither will my opponents. Now, play the Maratopian national anthem; I want the world to hear what an unstoppable hero is buried to once he faces me.
John Williams “Superman “ Theme plays as Rabid turns to face an animatronic Jay Omega motioning towards him; it's decked out in the Red and Blue of the famous DC comics superhero. Rabid wastes no time and instantly hits it with a KINGDOM DESTROYER! Dustin and Wade standing up and applauding the tasteless display with fervent gusto.
Meanwhile, Thuggin has a long list of “Omega facts” that he reads over the fallen “body” of Jay off a smartphone as Rabid soaks up the heat once again.
Jimophy Thuggin: Jay Omega is impervious to harm...Jay Omega cannot be stopped by mere mortals...Jay Omega is a genetic superman...Jay Omega....
FADE.
Post Match demolition. 02/28/2016
Everything was reset, right to the beginning.
Joey Malignaggi's confused eyes blinked open; his bruised lungs heaving with a tortured wheeze as he crawled on all fours like a lost and lonely toddler before the assembled might of #beachkrew. That damaged little puppy from the Bronx was reliving an East 188th street clip show as he dragged his buckled knees across the canvass, each stumble opening up another doorway of perception into his scornful mind, another Arthur Avenue nightmare made flesh. All those cold, fearful, Little Italy nights when Joey was frightened and alone as a child where now combined into one cascading wave, that crashed upon the shore of his cakewalk World Title win over Jayson Price. Swamping the scene whole with blood and malice as Joey choked on his own schadenfreude.
All Joey's nightmares, all of his fears were now made flesh. Given shape and form now and called #beachkrew. In that one, single moment, Joey Flash was drowning in an Ocean ruled by the alphas of the Federation, as Wade Moor smiled and intensified Joey's pain with a stomp to the back of the Italian American's neck. A move that echoed through time and made an old man named Dewey smile.
Joey could do nothing to stop the tide of violence and hurt as it rose and encircled him like a gang of perched vultures, #beachkrew had arrive en mass, surrounding the newly crowned champion and making it known that this was just a transitional moment for the belt. It would be coming home. To the sea. To Wade Moor. While Joey would be from this moment on a spent force; his motor functions running on empty with no more fight left to give. All Joey's metabolism could do now was simply cope as best it could with the disarray that had been set upon his body. Flash's eyes fluttered in the ring as a veil of thick blood ran into them, the guitar shot from Wade leaving an indelible mark upon his raked epidermis.
What Joey saw through that crimson, painful haze, Johnny Rabid was unsure; but what the Ripper did know at this particular juncture in time was that at his feet in the ring...bleeding like a stuffed pig, was the new WCF World Heavyweight Champion. A newly crowned hero for the people it briefly seemed. A man that only a few moments before had kicked out of the downfall, a messiah to the world; now nothing, reduced to this quivering mess...a legend put to sleep in under six seconds. It was as if time had been reset, and now Joey Flash was that old man who the one punch man had visited for collection money that cold New York night in November over a year ago.
Wade Moor: I will never go away, I am eternal, WE ARE ETERNAL!
“Truer than you think” whispered Rabid to himself, as Andre Aquarius, and his fellow #beachkrew pallbearer Dustin Beaver lifted the dead weight carcass of Joey Flash onto it's feet. Wade picked up the world title to shove in Joey's face, yet as he did so, a glint of golden light fell upon Rabid's features; bathing his cold, stern face in it's comforting glow. Then, just for a few seconds, time stopped. That title; used now to humiliate a fallen man; a blunt instrument to smash into the face of another human being, it became something more, something so...so....
Perfect.
And their, in that instant as Joey Flash stumbled back down onto the mat in slow, slow motion; a crown of blood rising up from the impact, Rabid could hear it. Beethoven was calling. The Allegretto was singing. That glorious seventh; the tick tock of perfection as Joey's skull bounced off the mat with a dull, silenced thud. Johnny felt his hand reach out, syncopating with the impact; alive and eager to hold onto that title. The blood of a wild card in his veins. Like a virus, like a rush of instant insanity that sent out a siren song to Rabid's always analytical mind to reach out, just to reach out and take the belt.
Forget Final Destination. Forget the trilogy cup. Forget the Tag Belts. forget Dune. What else is there? What else can matter more than that world title? Look at it. LOOK AT IT! IT IS PERFECTION!
Jared Holmes smiled as he clapped on Wade's display. Suddenly the slow motion celebration speed up into real time as Rabid snapped back into a ring that was still being presiding over by Joey Flash and his modern day crucifixion. Rabid remembered instantly now why he had sought so vehemently to destroy Dune. It was to honor a debt to the harbinger. To even a score between them. This wasn't Kane and a cup of coffee; this was making one man's obituary a truth. Protecting a family from a horror that could reawaken at any time. From a monster Rabid knew only too well.
It was about that scalp. The head of an Ubermensch, hung upon a wall. Besides, Johnny Rabid doesn't take a ticket and wait in line, he takes what he wants, when he wants. Dune doesn't get his way just because he thinks he's a superman. That kind of arrogance leads to penalties. And distance between allies it would seem.
As Aquaberry Dolphin by Riff Raff began to play, the world saw the facade of the world champion stripped away, and in it's place crawled a small, little man that had been destroyed. Decimated. And utterly humbled. This thing, this Joey Flash thug from the gutter had been sent back home, exposed, and ruined. Joey's fleeting moment of glory, was now a shattered dream; a hope that had once been cultivated for nearly a year and a half, now scalped from the consciousness of the crowd, ripped apart, and set upon by a rabid beast. Joey Flash was as harmless now as a glass of warm milk. He was as tranquil as Dune trying to shoot with intent. As limp and ineffective as #OcculoTheCarried in a single's match. Or any match for that matter.
Joey Flash's humiliation echoed all around the arena. It reverberated across the fans that looked down dejected; seeping into their muted cheers, their hearts now still and forlorn. A once fierce roar of approval was now cowering in the dark; it's bravery silenced with a Brosideon punch. But what was most evident during this perfect devastation of a man's career wasn't the stillness of the crowds, nor the cries of foul play from the announce table. No, what really mattered now, what really counted, was how totally isolated Joey Flash was.
Joey Flash; about to be seated upon the throne of the WCF power elite, about to become the new face of the World Championship Federation; about to be ordained as the chosen son of Seth Lerch himself. Joey Flash, moments away from becoming a made man of combat sports entertainment...was completely, and utterly alone.
No Occulo. No Dune. No Seth Lerch. No sign of Alessandra at ringside to support him. Her raven headed, copper skinned beauty never around to stand by her supposed man when he needs her the most. No family members from the old neighborhood to cheer him on. Nothing. Just dead air as Flash's eyes looked around for comfort, for help. Dead air. Silence as his gaze fell on nobody, because no one gives a fuck about Joey Flash. Not now, not ever. When you burn your bridges, that leaves you stranded; for Joey Flash, his island, his prison was an eighteen by eighteen wrestling ring and it was #beachkrew property.
It was as if all the ambition Joey had over the last year had turned around and blighted him; all that intense, simmering, self loathing rage, all of Joey's sickening, plastic, see-through respect, it all had forced his mistrusting support group away just when he needed it the most. Joey Flash was a one punch man with but one goal, to reach the top. Not just for five minutes, but for a sustained reign. That was the dream; the obsession. And what had that obsession gotten Joey Flash?
A ring full of enemies, and not a single friend in sight.
Some lessons you learn are difficult to stomach, they take chunks out of your ego, leaving them to rot out in the midday sun. Right now, as Joey raised a weak hand in defiance; flipping Wade a trembling digit under the burning lights of the arena, a lesson was laughing in the face of the One Punch Man; it was spitting truth into his eyes that stung as more blood ran down his face and dripped onto the mat. It was a lesson that Joey was taught the hard way at Timebomb, but one that Rabid knew already only too well.
Friends, they do have benefits. If only Joey knew this, if only he understood and hadn't once turned around to Occulo and said “The same hand I’ll reach out for friendship, I’ll beat you to death with.”, if only Occulo hadn't remembered that and decided to split with his ninja sensei. If only Dune didn't think twice about hanging around after he woke up, his scrambled thoughts lingering on Howard Black and that broken arm his best friend had suffered at the hands of Flash. If only Dune hadn't been blindsided from Rabid's Kingdom Destroyer in the first place, an easy to execute assault because Dune is an arrogant fool that thinks he is an unstoppable overman when in fact he's a burnt out husk that is one good match away from being gone. If only that match could be sooner than explosion, Rabid would end this quick...
If only...If only....
BACKSTAGE
Above the tunnels and corridors of the arena; a slow marching procession of fans trundled out over the encroached nest of Wrestlers and huddled staff below. This slow, constant rumble above shook the plaster off the ceiling of the makeshift office of one Seth Lerch, as his face managed to turn yet another, deeper shade of red; existing now somewhere far beyond the spectrum of normal human endurance, a boiling point reached in a never land of exponential rage.
Seth Lerch: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IDIOTS JUST DO?
Lerch flung his arms into the air with absolute exasperation, knocking a meter high stack of papers off his desk that flew around the room and danced above the heads of #beachkrew. This was a nightmare scenario for the owner of the company. While Flash still carries nothing but apparent disdain for Seth; Seth knew it wouldn't last for long. Joey Flash was, and will forever be, a cunt. And cunts love to be loved, especially by those that write their checks and make their matches. They love the power plays, they love sucking up to the boss until the world throws up. They love to feel safe.
Seth couldn't promise safety; perhaps Flash wouldn't except it anyway; but no doubt the attack made a deal even more far off; Seth had none of Logan's Family to call upon; nor the DRG to back up his agenda.
And now there was #beachkrew, the team had pushed any attempt at reconciliation with Flash still further out of reach. Seth so wanted to have his new golden boy under his wing; safe and secure. Flash was the brother he always wanted, the cool kid from down the lane. Joey Flash was like all those kids Seth wanted to be as a child growing up, the bad seeds who had the smokes and the girls and boosted cars on the weekend for fun. Sometimes, in a mirror unseen in a motel room, Seth would break out a comb and test out a Joey Flash center parting, shaking his head and instantly distancing himself from the result. It looked ridiculous on his massive head and flimsy body. Seth didn't like it. But that didn't stop his crush on Flash from blossoming.
Seth Lerch: You, Rabid!
Jonathan Rabid leaned calmly against a wall as the rest of #beachkrew flanked him. When it came to dealing with Seth; this was Rabid's territory.
Johnny Rabid: If you're expecting an apology; prepare for disappointment, Seth. Sometimes we need to exert our power. Tonight was one of those night's. I told you once that we could make this company great again. Let us--
Seth Lerch: How? HOW? By busting open my new champion? The one man I can count-
Johnny Rabid: Count on? To do what? Serve his own interests; fuel his own agenda? Imperium. Jonny Fly. Time and again Flash meddles in this companies business, and time and again the WCF is worse off for it. He's a naive man, Seth. For all his street smarts he has no insight into the inner workings of this business. What do you think this company would be like now without Joey Flash? Think about it. We'd still have the merchandise powerhouse that was ICE Beckman, we'd probably still have the Poondocks and the Vapour Kings. We'd still have Jonny fuckin' Fly on the roster! Joey Flash is a fucking cancer, and he's on the verge of unleashing a worst case scenario on us all. That arrogant little fuck has the title now in his grasp. And what do you think he'll do with it, Seth? What glorious next step will this company take under his command?
Cute animals...One direction stables with homophobic agendas...aliens.
We're on the edge of disaster, Seth. This idiotic cunt will be the end of us. He's going to take the credibility of the title and destroy it. Ruin it's heritage and piss on it's history, because that's what a Joey Flash does. He stumbles from one idiotic master plan to the next. People buy into his schemes because he has charisma; but once you're halfway across the rope bridge he can't help himself but start cutting the vines. That's what a self destructive personality does; it takes what works and breaks it, because inside that deluded little mind of poor old Joey Flash there's a damaged little child crying out for It's mommy, and no one is answering.
Seth Lerch: Stop it, Joey is--
Johnny Rabid: Joey Flash is the dagger that will plunge itself into the heart of this company, he'll end it if you let him. Let us lance the infection, Seth. Wade Moor is your champion; your broseidon, your Lord God of the deep. He can steer us out of dangerous waters. All he needs from you, Seth; is the carte blanche to be the hero I know resides within. Give this man...
Rabid points at Wade who tips the brim of his straw hat. A smile that would slice steel.
Johnny Rabid: The keys to the kingdom. And I promise you Seth, Wade Moor will be your knight in shining armor that defends this kingdom from all comers. From the interlopers and the transients that threaten it's shores with bogus claims and turgid careers. Never again will a Jay Omega or a Jayson Price infect that World Heavyweight Title with mediocrity and cowardice. And as for Joey Flash and his Sentinels?
Rabid stepped forward; his leer was like a virus now, downloaded directly into Seth's bruised and fractured subconscious.
Johnny Rabid: They'll be taught a valuable lesson in respect. For far too long Dune and Occulo have disgraced this company with their pointless kilq of soap opera theatrics; bouncing from one idiotic event to the next. What kind of house of cards has these people at it's center, think about it:
Joey Flash: Son, Christian, dies at the hands of Dune. Joey is a member of the Cosa Nostra; a Sicilian crime organization dedicated to fear and oppression. Yet Joey embraces Dune as a brother because they share a warrior's spirit. Really? That makes everything okay now? That's all you need to throw your whole belief system away? Seriously, what the fuck is this shit?
Dune: this lumbering dunce embraces Flash as a brother, even though Flash damn near snapped the arm off of former friend Howard Black; a man tipped to be a future world champion. Black never managed to capture again his former heights, ending up a retired mess. But that's okay thinks Dune, because Flash flushed Genyu, erm, I mean “his guest” down a metaphysical toilet. So all hail Flash.
Occulo: Should be announced as residing from Stockholm the way this man has been ritually abused and beaten by Joey Flash; a man who Occulo now bows down to and whose boots he constantly licks. Remember that one time Seth you gave Occulo a chance to prove himself as a singles champion? Remember what happened next to that U.S. Title? Occulo is a *bottler, pure and simple. He's a quivering wreck of a man who is currently doing his best Rad Russian impersonation in the mountains of Japan. Trying to do to himself what so many others have done to him before; to destroy his body and spirit. #OcculoTheCarried latest psychosis is believing this will somehow turn him into a man. Too bad for Occy that's not how it works. Being abused may be the only path he knows, especially after the dismantling he suffered at the hands of Dustin Beaver, but his sadomasochist behavior will never grant him the respect and the accolades he craves. Just more losses and more embarrassments as the truth finally sinks in; that #OcculoTheCarried is a henchman; a lackey. A face in the crowd but never the star. #OcculoTheCarried can deconstruct himself all he wants, but the truth? The actual truth? He doesn't have it. And he never fucking will. Little Johnny Mullins; as lost and as dead as his father. Wandering from singles loss to singles loss, until the tickets arrive and then he's flying again. Because...
*bottler, an English term for coward. See also: Occulo
Johnny Rabid: Let us fix this, Seth. One night. One Slam. If this house of cards can stand, then lets see it stand. One more time.
OUTSIDE SETH'S OFFICE:
Rabid closes the door behind him as he faces the rest of the sub-aquatic outfit down. Wade smiled at the thought of getting his hands on Joey Flash once more in a three on three contest; while Beaver seemed troubled; somewhat distant for a moment.
Dustin Beaver: Look, we haven't spoken much before, Rab; but I have to ask you man, I'm not...
Johnny Rabid: What?
Dustin Beaver: I'm not....
Moor intervenes.
Wade Moor: What boi? SPIT IT OUT!
Dustin Beaver:..I'm not the Occulo of this team, I'm I?
Moor bursts out laughing while Rabid just shakes his head, answering the question with an emphatic “no”. A moment passes before Rabid's acting techniques finally kick in, his stone face smiling that crooked grin of his.
Johnny Rabid: Trust me, Dustin. No one on this team is an Occulo.
Dustin Beaver: Yeah, I guess it was kind of insulting. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I still have the stench of that douche-bag on my hands, you know? After I smashed his teeth down his throat it's still there, lingering. Occulo's hard to wash off man, that shit gets under your fingernails.
Wade Moor: He's a parasite, Dustin. Occulo wants to be close to victory. No matter what it takes, even if it means being carried on your knuckles.
Dustin shudders as he glares at his hands.
Dustin Beaver: Fuck...okay, I'll try bleach.
Johnny Rabid just shakes his head as Jared motions into view. The two borderline psychopaths take a few steps away from the group, Thursday giving her man some room.
Jared “6ixGod” Holmes: Dune, finally I see. Are you sure about this?
Johnny Rabid: About what? Taking on the most dominant force this company has outside of us? Of course I am. I want this. I need this. You saw what I did to him tonight, Jared. The way Dune's head bounced off the canvass. I held his dreams in the palm of my hand and I squeezed. I robbed him of everything, his legacy is in ashes because of me. He'll nebr have that back to back Trilogy cup he so desperately sought. I've derailed his road to another World title and dragged him into my personal hell, one I've been preparing for him since that night on Slam. Dune took me for granted that night; even when I saw that glint of surprise in his eyes as I stood toe to toe with him. Maybe it was the guest, or maybe just his natural arrogance, but Dune turned his back on me. That's a crime of ignorance, and it's cost is survival. I'm going to crush the life of him, Jared. Shatter his spine and snap his neck. I'll destroy Dune again next week as I have this; because when you're dealing with the Dune's of this word, they always have a blind spot. They always consider themselves to be invincible. Until it's too late. The curse of the supermen, running through Dune's veins.
Jared “6ixGod” Holmes: And now you have his attention.
Johnny Rabid: Of course. That was always my promise, remember?
HOSPITAL
A few days has passed since Dune's vicious and brutal Slam attack on the 6ix god; a mauling that has left Jared Holmes mute and broken. The former shark is connected up at this time to a heart monitor as he lays there silent; his jaw fused still with a mesh of steel to aid with the healing process. The beep of that monitor a metronome reminder of the hours, days and weeks ahead of painful recovery Jared will have to endure.
The floor around the bed is smeared with the remains of custom made hospital food; flung to the floor in disgust by it's disgruntled recipient. A semi circle of soft pate that was especially mixed up for Jared to consume; it looks like baby food.
A set of smart shoes side steps the mess and shuffles to a halt.
“Hello, Jared”
Jonathan Rabid has arrived, his one and only secret meeting. He's dressed in his customary Charcoal suit. His lowers his gaze away from Jared for a moment; the weight of the crime before almost too much to gaze upon. Johnny sighs. Pulls up a seat, dragging a plastic chair across the linoleum floor as he clutches a sorry bouquet of Tulips in a free hand.
Johnny Rabid: The flowers aren't my idea, they're the wives. She sends her regards by the way.
No reaction from Jared. Johnny pulls the chair in closer, scraping that floor.
Johnny Rabid: I don't make promises lightly, Jared. You may not know me yet, you may just think I'm just a heater, hired to light a fire under your team, but I can promise you this; no one harms a member of my crew and gets away with it. I take such matters very seriously. This Dune...he thinks the world revolves around him. That the sun rises out of his arse. I've seen his kind come and go and mission times, with always the same result. That look; etched upon their face, the look of shock and confusion. They ask how, they ask how over and over again as if the answer will change. But it never does; because that answer is always me. I am the answer to this, Jared. I am the truth that Dune will learn. I'll teach it to him quick; so that his equilibrium is forever off balance. That's how giants fall, harbinger. That's how you slay a God. This Dune, Jared, he's an animal that has to be put down, a child killer that brushes off death without a second thought. You have to put monsters like that down. Even if you are one to begin with.
Jared seemed confused by this.
Johnny Rabid: Maybe we're getting a little too ahead of ourselves here. Know this though; in the coming months; you'll need to be as strong as vicious as you've ever been. Faster too. A war is coming, Jared. Thuggin is too soft and too compassionate to explain things as they are, but I know you can sense it. We're going to have our lives soaked in blood before we see the other side. Prepare for this. While I prepare for Dune.
A moment passes, Rabid stands and leans in on the equipment; smells the IV bag. Smiles as Jared seems nervous.
Johnny Rabid: Gravedigger keeping things clean I see. Good.
Jared attempts a smile. The pain shooting up his jawline.
Johnny Rabid: That pain you're feeling now. Store that. Keep it safe. One day soon you'll leave this hospital, and that pain will need a new home. Save it for someone special. Then let them know your story.
Rabid turned, dumping the flowers on the chair as he left. The door slamming shut behind him while Jared consider those words carefully, and remembered.
NEW YORK, TIMES SQUARE
#Chamber installation. Friday: 04/03/2016
The hand on the famous Times Square clock moves a few inches closer to 13:00 hundred hours as a large, amassed crowd of eager onlookers, a contingent made up of mostly of tourists and WCF fans answering the call on twitter, gathers around a 20ft high square object, a structure situated smack center in the middle of the square. The object's true dimensions are masked from view by four large sheets of reflective black plastic that rebound back the onlooker's huddled curiosity as they take selfies of their reflections in the strange black resin.
Overhead, the clatter of a police helicopter observes the scene with God like clarity; The square object is situated on a plinth; which is shrouded in a large, red carpet. A cordoned off arena, patrolled by New Yawk's finest, has twenty chairs set out for possible V.I.P guests as the moment approaches.
A Limousine and four large SUV's navigate a designated path towards the object. The motorcade is flanked by four police bikes, sirens screaming as they surround the vehicles, two front, two back, to ensure it's safety.
INSIDE THE LIMO
Johnny Rabid, Wade Moor and Dustin Beaver sit in abject opulence. Rabid has a large Starbucks coffee in hand, the smoldering liquid is never touched, just a prop, while Wade Moor knocks back a shot of bloody Mary from a silver hip flask. Dustin's face is pressed against the glass of the limo as he smiles, the lunacy of it all not lost on the young, maverick competitor.
Dustin Beaver: Have you ever seen anything like this? This is insane!
Rabid smiles.
Johnny Rabid: The insanity hasn't begun just yet, Dustin; this is the preamble. Wait until the hand hits and it's thirteen hundred. Then the fun begins.
Wade Moor: Boi! Yo have some darkness in yo son to plan this; some great and knowing darkness that parades it's evil. I commend you sir!
Johnny Rabid: Thank you, Wade.
Wade takes another shot of that Bloody Mary as he lets out a low, long howl; it reverberates just beneath his breath. Eyes daring left and right to the direction of the overhead chopper as it circles. Then the smile, a snake of insanity that creeps across his face.
Moments later. The clock hand reaches thirteen.
The limo has arrived as Rabid exits; flanked by Beaver and Wade. The crowd screams as the four sheets of black plastic surrounding the structure prove to be, in actuality, just a set of pulled taunt reflective canvasses; they drop to the floor, revealing a fresco beneath of extreme WCF hyper-violence; the ultimate battleground for bloodshed; THE NIGHTMARE CHAMBER.
The doors to the now parked four SUV's open, as members of the Worlds press exit. They take their positions in the V.I.P zone awaiting Rabid and his cohorts, who have now entered the cell and are being seated at a red desk; smart suits and a Hawaiian shirt are mic'd up by tech hands as the strangest press conference in WCF history is about to begin.
We hear a few bars of Aqua-berry Dolphin as out steps the mastermind of #beachkrew...Jimophy Thuggin.
Jimophy Thuggin: Ladies and gentlemen...gathered members of the esteemed press associations of the world...It is MY HONOR, to officially announce today DAH WINNAH, OF MAY'S XIII MATCH WITH JAY OMEGA!
….JOHNNNNNNNYYYYYYY RAAAAAAABIDDDDDDDD!!!!!
Rabid stands as “Death Breath” by Bring me the Horizon thunders out over the speakers. Johnny smiles and spins on the spot in front of a mostly booing crowd. Johnny soaks in the “adulation” for a few moments before speaking.
Johnny Rabid: Today is a momentous occasion, ladies nd gentlemen. Today is the first time in WCF history that a member of the WCF Galaxy has been awarded a match win before the date of the contest. Some will say this is just a prank; a hoax. But it is none of these things. This is no paradox; this is reality; this is the future of the company because now it, and all those that stand against #beachkrew now know the future. It's one where Jonathan Rabid destroys supermen; where Jonathan Rabid takes on the superegos and the ubermensch's and annihilates them. Burning away the fallacies they promote with the acid touch of my talent. Dune, Occulo and Joey Flash will learn this lesson this coming Sunday. The same lesson Jay Omega fought so hard to avoid; but even he couldn't outrun the fragility of a heart that gave out once it knew who it's opponent would be.
Jay Omega was the smart one; he had the good grace to die before I had to sully my hands with his presence. This Sunday I may not be as lucky, but then, neither will my opponents. Now, play the Maratopian national anthem; I want the world to hear what an unstoppable hero is buried to once he faces me.
John Williams “Superman “ Theme plays as Rabid turns to face an animatronic Jay Omega motioning towards him; it's decked out in the Red and Blue of the famous DC comics superhero. Rabid wastes no time and instantly hits it with a KINGDOM DESTROYER! Dustin and Wade standing up and applauding the tasteless display with fervent gusto.
Meanwhile, Thuggin has a long list of “Omega facts” that he reads over the fallen “body” of Jay off a smartphone as Rabid soaks up the heat once again.
Jimophy Thuggin: Jay Omega is impervious to harm...Jay Omega cannot be stopped by mere mortals...Jay Omega is a genetic superman...Jay Omega....
FADE.
