Post by "Iron Heart" Ethan King on Mar 25, 2016 2:52:13 GMT -5
They Told Me To Drown.
The sand underneath him scorched the base of his feet, yet remained soft to the touch as it settled in between his toes. The heat of the sun was blistering, but as he carried himself into the shallow depth of the water, it seemed to fade away into obscurity.
He floated passively, allowing the winds (of winter) to modify the water, sending it swirling around him harmonically, the waves were peaceful.The sun that previously bore down on him was now invisible thanks to the wall of clouds that presented a shield across the blue of the sky, which reflected the appearance of the ocean before him.
He tentatively stepped forward, the level of the water rose upward toward the bottom of his rib-cage, his features were shrouded by the concentration that had taken over his being, his muscles tensed up in anticipation as his body went deeper, and deeper.
In one swift movement, the winds (of winter) changed, the colour of the sky went from the deep hue of calming blue, to a far more perilous and unknowing grey, the clouds went from a pure white to a similar appearance of shrouded darkness. His green-blue eyes darted around hesitantly, unsure of himself as his body was swept along by the ocean, which had now taken control over him. In the distance, a storm was brewing, as those swirling winds conducted themselves into an orchestra that formulated a twisting nether on the brink of the horizon line. His throat contracted tightly - it became a lot harder to breath. His lips parted, mouth agape to try and suck in the needed oxygen to keep him going, to stop him from succumbing to the anchors that were now attached to his feet, trying to drag him down into the abyss below.
No longer did he have control of the muscles which had sent him on this dangerous journey, out into a sea of the unknown, it only dawned on him then that there WAS no real way to prepare for a situation such as this, the daunting challenge which presented itself before him. The winds that gathered, the storms that brewed... the waves that became increasingly large. There was no escape, there was no miracle waiting to happen, there was only the instinctual nature that could carry him through, past the haze of dark that encompassed him, past the waves that threatened to crush him beneath the impact. His head bobbed above water narrowly, water tried to filter its way into his lungs, but he furiously spat it out, whilst dragging and clawing, fighting to stay above the surface.
It was all becoming too much.
He could feel his arms weakening, his legs turning into lead, as the anchors continued to try and drag him down, it was almost as if pairs of hands were reaching out and clutching him, the weight of the world calling for him to stop. To just give in, to succumb to the power of the ocean - and the things... and people, that resided in it.
His movements have a new-found life to them, the set of hands clasping on to him seem to break away, folding underneath the furious swinging and kicking of his legs and body, his torso twists and turns, writhing away from the clutches of the devious beings hidden underneath the water's surface. The level of the water seems to lower as his fighting spirit brings him higher and higher up, to the point where his breathing comes easy and his body becomes something unnatural. Like the spirit of a warrior found its way into his soul, opening it up and allowing the blood of a champion to course through his veins, reinvigorating him.
He almost felt like smiling in this glorious moment, where he overcame the mental monsters that had found there way into his mind, causing him to doubt and ponder, contemplate and wonder, forcing him to believe that there was no way out of the inevitable fate that had been sealed for him the moment he tried to step into the limelight.
Only, they were right.
Our young hero, free from the hands of the ones that tried to drag him down, pushed himself further and further up, but as a fiery light - an ember of hope, seems to form in those greenish-blue eyes of him, it dies out in that same moment, as he bears witness to the purest embodiment of destruction he had ever laid eyes upon.
The Tidal Wave, it was here.
Bred from the smaller waves that had merged together, it carried on elegantly, growing only taller as it neared the young man who was...
His mouth gave way to let out a scream, but the sounds were DROWNED out by the wave that rode along above the sea like a majestic warhorse, leading it's way directly into the battle. It almost seemed like a Krew group of people stood atop of the wave, watching as it cascaded down toward the lone figure, flailing around in the water helplessly.
In that very moment, it seemed like all were lost. Worst nightmares turn into...
REALity.
Once again, he found himself depleted of energy. He couldn't move, now he remained frozen in place, struck by the chilling cold of the winter waters that left him immobilized.
Finally, the wave crashed down upon him, water flushed down over his being and sent him tumbling through the water. His body cut through it almost effortlessly as the wave carried him, along with the Krew group that stood atop of it, basking in the glory of the destruction it, and in turn, THEY were causing.
He kept his mouth shut as tight as he could, but it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened and the excess of water began to force its way down into his system. Choking him, sending him into a flurry of panic. But unlike the last time, there was no saving himself from his fate.
I won't lie, I didn't expect it to all go down this way, in fact, I thought I stood a chance. Back then, I thought I KNEW I had a chance.
Ethan King awoke to the sounds of birds chirping away in the morning, the flashing rays of sun that beamed through those same windows he walked past every morning in his early preparations before class. The windows that allowed the life of day to flood through into what he was now called his 'home.' Yet it felt unwelcoming as he shot up from the plush pillow beneath his head, which still seemed to be swimming in the eternal ocean.
Sweat trickled down from his face and dripped down onto the sheets, the headache he had started with the night before felt far more prominently then it did just a few hours ago. Frightened and out of sorts, Ethan's head shot towards the right to catch a glimpse of the clock, which read 7:00am. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to rid himself of those visions that were still fresh in his mind.
It didn't work.
He twisted to his side on the bed and hung his head low, his mind still processing what happened. His attention quickly turned to the door, which he heard creaking open as a dark silhouette stepped in, casting a shadow over him and blotting out the sun.
Miguel Myles: Hey dude, you good? You're up an hour late.
The smile he had over him was rather kind, clearly he meant well. Ethan store at him with wide-eyes.
Miguel Myles: Ethan?
He snapped back into REALity.
Ethan King: Yeah?
Miguel Myles: You alright man?
Ethan looked himself over, he had already assumed his appearance was horrid, to say the least. He tried to piece together a smile, but it felt less than half-hearted.
Ethan King: Yeah, I'm good... I'm good. Just... tired?
His attempt to come off in a convincing manner failed miserably, but Miguel had the graciousness to smile and nod, without questioning him in the slightest.
Miguel Myles: Sweet. I'm heading off to grab some breakfast, don't know where Eddie or Gabriel are. I'll see you in class?
Face flushed in a tinge of red, clearly out-of-sorts, he shrugged and swung his legs to the side, planting them solidly onto the ground beneath him, preparing to push himself up to his feet.
Ethan King: I'll... be there.
Miguel Myles: Alright, later dude.
His friend backed out through the same doorway he entered, Ethan didn't say a word. His vision was blurry, his head almost felt like it had been put on a swivel as he swayed uncertainly. In one push, he sent himself up to a vertical base. He wobbled momentarily, but managed to steady himself. Keeping a hand on the white walls of his room at all times, he slowly but surely shuffled his feet forward, until he too was through the doorway. His mind wandered, it didn't feel REAL. An out of body experience that left him delirious and fearful.
You're living in reality.
He dropped to the ground, landing on his knees as his palms planted onto the ground beneath him, stopping him from crashing and burning. He held himself up for a moment longer, until those mixed thoughts came creeping back.
And with those last words resonating deeply in his mind, he once again succumbed to the dream like lands that reigned supreme over him, the lands that at one point had given him visions of success, glory, greatness and wonder. But now, only gave him one, certain fate, that seemed totally inescapable.
Allow Me A Moment To Talk, Before I Tear It All Down.
"Still gathering up those response shoots, ready to drop that 'hot fire' that you guys seem to thrive on? Great, while you're doing that, allow me to put an end to all of this bullshit that seems to keep surfacing. Let me debunk some of these myths that the whole federation seems to be operating under, similar to the pretenses and the facades that many of the Krew seems to place over themselves to hide all the failures and hiccups that they experience.
Everyone around here seems to think that all the guys in the Krew are this unbreakable machine filled with this chemistry that makes them invincible in the ring. Can we be real for a second and acknowledge that this is fucking bullshit? This Krew is a bunch of guys who banded together with the idea of dominating the entire federation, but failed to realize that their individual goals would get away of everything. I bet Andre Aquarius is loathing the fact he's getting thrown into more of these 'meaningless' tag matches, that do nothing for him and his career here.
Ain't that right, Andre? You're all about the singles glory, aren't you? Even though you've done literally nothing in your singles career thus far, besides make some challenges to Phoenix for that Hardcore strap. That's how far you've come since entering the federation, that's what you've achieved. Your biggest claim to fame, the biggest moment in this mans career. The guy who calls himself a winner, the egotistical asshole who seems to think he's got it all. He can't even give you a fucking reason he's good. He just say sit.
And what about Beaver? The disgraced former Television Champion with an eye for the gold, but the lack of ability to actually do anything with it. For all the natural talent this guy may have, he throws it all away by associating himself with these pricks who don't really want the best for him. Great work, man. Nice work showing everyone exactly why they should "beavlieve" in you, surround yourself with talent and success and pray to god that you get noticed for whatever reason that resides in that delusional mind of yours.
Keep it up guys, seriously. Keep telling the world that you guys aren't just in this for yourselves, tell the world that you're going to kick everyone's asses and keep your spots at the top of the federation along with the rest of the guys that have carried you to this position, keep trying to throw around your weight but repeatedly get shown up by respectable competition that manages to light you up like a fucking firing squad the moment you step into that ring.
Do it, spit that hot fire at us. Show us what the hype is all about, don't come at us with what we expect. Don't cry and call us "copycats" and say that we're based off you, when in a month we're going to show you up and leave you wondering what the fuck went wrong.
I mean, I can see where you get these ideas from, though. You've got your leader in Jared Holmes trying to tell everyone that all these factions were built from the ground up to combat you guys, and this is exactly why followers like Dustin Beaver and Andre Aquarius are left to fight for the leftovers, the scraps that their 'superiors' have left them.
How fucking sad.
I mean, you can try go around and tell everyone that's not what's happening, but in the end. This is the guy you look up to, this is the man that you look to for guidance. Along with Wade Moor, along with everyone else who doesn't really have enough trust in you to carry the banner and bring the rest of the boys home.
You're still trying to prove yourself to these guys, even though you know, or at least, you THINK you're good enough to hang with them. You don't want to be complacent, you don't want to just take what you're being given and run with it. You're not about that, aren't you? That's why when you're being denied the opportunities you think you deserve, or when you're CHOKING the opportunities that you're being given, you think you're being robbed. You cry foul play, you go into scramble mode and try to set yourself up another title shot that will propel you into a higher slot on the card, closer towards the rest of your Krew, so that you can feel like you're apart of something bigger.
How did the two of you feel, knowing that in less than a month we're already being matched up with you? Without even a real chance to get our feet wet, we're already being considered for a shot that 'should' be a rite of passage for guys like you, these ultra-talented megastars who can't be matched by any of the other guys in the federation.
Because that's how you see yourselves, don't you? You look at the rest of the federation and feel like you're above that shit, like you shouldn't be getting your hands dirty. You're so sick of killing all of these 'fuccbois' that it just feels like routine at this point, is that where you've gotten to?
What the #BeachKrew would say: Yes.
What anyone in their right mind would say: Fuck no.
You see, you're all so far gone you actually think this is how fucking great you are. I think anyone can see that you guys have the potential necessary to reach the top of the food chain, but that isn't being translated right now. Currently? This is just a group of delusional fuckwits who think they don't need to put in the effort to win, they think it's a god-given gift that they're owners of. This is their destiny, this is what they were meant to do the moment they decided they were going to bunny hop up in this bitch and take the WCF by storm.
But things turned out a little differently than that, didn't they?
Sure, you've had your moments of dominance, but like all things, the walls fell down eventually, right? The cracks began to show, the pace began to slow down and you guys became a lot more desperate. Nowadays, you got Jared Holmes literally shooting on his 'teammates' like Johnny Rabid, virtually calling him an embarrassment.
Yep, solid unit you guys got there, LOL.
This shit is fucking pathetic, real talk.
When people tell you you guys aren't a strong a unit as you make yourselves out to be, you shake your heads and say "NUH UH". You try to act as if this shit isn't already going down, you act as if the foundation is beginning to crumble and everyone, you two included, are going to crash down and hit rock fucking bottom.
You can't admit this shit, you can't take a moment to evaluate your position and realize that not everything is the way it seems, you don't have that realistic aspect. You just have all these expectations that you fail to meet, forever and always. That's the #BeachKrew circle of life, they set their sights on a goal and try to reach it. When they make it? They're the fucking best. When they don't? Most of them have excuses prepped and ready, they already have them pre-written and ready to be released out to the public, because they're all scared of being embarrassed. You two? You're not excepted from this.
That's why Andre is so desperate to get this shit popping with Katherine Phoenix, that's why Dustin Beaver screams and shouts, telling everyone that they should believe in him even though they have no reason to.
You want to know what everyone 'beavlieves' in, Dustin?
That you're a fucking imbecile.
No lies, only truth. That's what I've been telling you, and when I say I'm going to step up into that ring and knock you the fuck down, and show you exactly why you aren't all that you make yourself out to be, hopefully you'll realize that it's time to take a step back and think about what you've been doing.
Take the opportunity to look at all the fuck-ups you've made, and reevaluate your life choices. Stepping into this ring with a group of guys that don't even give a single fuck about you. In the end, it's all about the personal achievements and glory, it's all about what you can do as an individual. They don't give a damn about team work and how well the team works together, as long as they're getting their licks in, as long as everyone takes note of them and recognizes just how fucking good they are.
It's gotten to the point that when they're NOT getting that recognition, they revert into little bitches who try to scold everyone and remind them of everything they've done.
That's why, when Wade Moor, Johnny Rabid and Dustin Beaver got beat down by a bunch of new guys who supposedly would never be good enough to match their abilities, they immediately tried to put on that damage control. The whole Krew stepped up and tried to get a one-up on your boys, they wanted to continue to dominate the internet and tell everyone that they were better than this crop of new guys who were looking to make a name of themselves.
Let's be real, that's not the truth.
They're trying to throw shade on your boys, but fail miserably, because they don't have the ability to realize that maybe, just maybe... they can't always come out on top. They've had their victories, there moments of greatness. Some of it has been earned, other times? They just cheat there way to the top, and that's fine. Just don't fucking cry about it when you get your shit kicked in, don't whine and act as if you didn't deserve to lose, even when you clearly got outclassed.
That's something you guys can't accept.
The moment Dustin loses that TV Strap, he immediately goes into denial.
After Andre decides he's done being an eternal jobber, he starts calling himself a winner.
How fucking low can you go?
Is this what the WCF has come to? Having a bunch of so-called "heels" just tell everyone they're the best, even though they got nothing to show for it? It suddenly becomes a lot more clear why everyone is so fucking sick and tired of these guys running their mouths.
Unlike them, I'm not afraid to admit that I'm not the best I can be, that I'm still got a ways to go before I'm taking my talents to the top along with the rest of my boys, but understanding weakness and improving upon it is the first way you can go about becoming a better wrestler, and overall... a better person.
What do these guys know about that?
What do they know about coming underneath that pressure, those high-level matches against competition that actually know what they're doing? How do they prepare for that shit? Do they curl up into a ball and whisper to themselves continuously, repeating the same sentiments about them being the best, about how they're going to absolutely "kill" the opposition?
Is this how you showcase your superiority, by throwing up a wall of confidence, a wall that can be penetrated in one blow, from a well-placed strike that sends their teeth straight down their fucking throats?
Because if so, I'll be glad to do that for you guys. For real, I'll take pleasure in knowing that I've brought Andre and Dustin back into reality. I'll take their best shots, ones that would floor anyone else in the federation, laugh it off, smile at these dickheads, and give them the biggest shock of their lives. That's what this is about, teaching these guys a lesson.
It's happened before, but they haven't seemed to learn. They don't want to accept that they aren't all they make themselves out to be, they aren't willing to look at them facts and start trying to better themselves from their losses. Because that ain't the #BeachKrew way. Instead, you squad up and attack one person at a time, picking them apart.
Joey Flash?
Demarcus Jordan?
Whose next?
And yet, when we attack them, we're the cowards. We're the bad guys in all of this, they try to call us out for acting like the villains when they've been doing this shit their entire careers, that's what their whole legacy is. Getting a group of guys together and hunting down one guy after another. It's all numbers games. That's what their whole WAR showcase was, and even then it wasn't enough for them to come away with the victory.
I think the question is, how far can these guys really go, without the tricks, without all the deception and manipulative bullshit? Without the egos that seem to plague them and leave them oblivious to the fact that they aren't deserving of all these monikers and titles, the ones that thrust upon themselves as they take their invisible thrones, as they ride on these high horses that nobody else can fucking see.
It's a smoke screen dance, it's a haze that they've thrown up to try and blur our perception, out vision of what's really going on here.
A group of guys running scared, worried about how they're looked at by the outside world, they post those dank memes, they spit that hot fire, they commit murder on these 'fuccbois' that run through the federation, and they do it in style. But when they fail?
Oh boy, do they fucking fail.
In one fell swoop, they flop to the fucking ground and flounder, flailing around desperately and trying to clutch for support, they grasp at those excuses and spout out those mean words and insults, hoping and praying that somebody will listen, that somebody will take notice of these fucking losers.
And inside of their heads, they know that they're better than this. They can't believe they're being put into these situations, when they fail to come out on top they can only shake their heads and wonder what happened, like a flash of lightning they go from being sky-high to ground level, and it hits them like a tonne of bricks. The reality, the shit they just can't avoid, the fact that they weren't good enough.
For guys like Andre and Dustin? It's fucking deadly, it messes up their whole mentality, it throws a spanner in the works. Once they take that heart-crushing defeat, they start to reevaluate everything, they rake through their minds, trying to think of a way to bounce back, to throw some shade on that loss. Sometimes? They don't even acknowledge they lost in the first place.
These guys are in denial, plain and simple. They think they're above the WCF, which is funny, considering they're still struggling real hard to try and cement themselves as the top dogs. That's why it must be so fucking painful, for little Andre and Dustin to watch as their comrades land so much higher on the card than them.
Wade Moor's fighting for the World Title, Jared Holmes is trying to clinch his shot at the belt, and Johnny Rabid's getting a high profile match with the one and only Dune, meanwhile, these two self-proclaimed 'winners' are stuck facing off against two guys that they could fucking eviscerate with their eyes closed.
Right?
RIGHT?
Riiiiiiiiiiiight.
Because that's totally what's going on here.
For Dustin and Andre, facing off against these 'Pride nobodies' is a fucking joke, they look at the card and sneer, thinking to themselves that they got this shit in the bag. For them? It's a forgone conclusion, this match doesn't even need a prediction, the moment our names were written across from theirs? We were done for.
So, how bad is it going to be when they step into that ring and take that first shot, when they wake up and realize that they aren't just in for another fucking muckaround match? That they aren't facing delusional spastics from The Family and start to see exactly why we've got all this hype surrounding us?
What's going to happen if they lose? if the guys that they're supposedly so much better than manage to 'pull of the upset' and steal the victory that should've rightfully been there's? How will they react?
They'll shut down, they'll ignore everything. They'll refuse to believe that they somehow got beat, they'll call it a fluke, they'll throw all these shots out on the internet, they'll get their boys to back them up and tell the world they got robbed, even though it just came down to them not being good enough on the day.
But that's not how the #BeachKrew works.
It's time to step up to the plate, boys. This is where you show the world that you're actually worth everything you hype yourselves up to be, you're coming up against the new crop of guys who are set to take over your spot, who are a major threat to a divison that you believe should be dominated by the Krew, and only the Krew.
The pressures on, but you can't see that.
You'll keep remaining oblivious to it, acting like you don't know what's about to happen.
You'll act like there aren't any threats, even though you've got one right under your nose.
Because this is your match, isn't it? These tag belts? They're yours, they don't belong to anyone else but the #BeachKrew. You guys will pick up from where Kyle Kemp and Johnny Rabid left off, carrying that legacy as the two guys who aren't respected enough to get their own shots for singles titles.
This is where you've been placed on the #BeachKrew totem pole, and yet you aren't willing to accept it. You know what? That's fine, but when the going gets tough and you guys are left stranded, I just want you to know...
That I told you so.
That this was going to happen inevitably, no matter how hard you tried to make a difference.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you guys that this is a surefire victory, there are no guarantees in that ring, unless you're gimmes like Dag Riddik, of course. But I will sit here and wait, I'll listen to everything you guys have to say, all those delirious comments you make, I'll hear all the denial and smile, because when we meet in that ring, you can't deny a thing.
Win or lose, you're going to realize that you aren't fucking untouchable, and that this isn't just another cakewalk for the 'dominant force' that is the #BeachKrew.
This is only going to be the first of many battles, in the grand scheme of things? This will only be the building blocks of smoething great to come, but you aren't prepared.
You don't know what's coming.
Fear of the unknown, that's the biggest thing residing in your mind, and that's why you're worried about this match. You don't know what to expect.
So I'll let you know exactly what you CAN expect.
A fight.
This isn't going to be your reckoning moment, where you show your dominance over the tag team division, you're going to have to earn it. The question is... can you actually accomplish that feat?
I doubt it.
Prove me wrong guys, I'll be waiting.
I'll always be waiting.
See you in the ring."
The sand underneath him scorched the base of his feet, yet remained soft to the touch as it settled in between his toes. The heat of the sun was blistering, but as he carried himself into the shallow depth of the water, it seemed to fade away into obscurity.
Much like I will, if I am drowned out by the oncoming wave.
Be prepared, I can't just expect to be left alone forever.
They're coming, for everyone.
Not just me.
He tentatively stepped forward, the level of the water rose upward toward the bottom of his rib-cage, his features were shrouded by the concentration that had taken over his being, his muscles tensed up in anticipation as his body went deeper, and deeper.
Too deep.
I'm in too deep.
In one swift movement, the winds (of winter) changed, the colour of the sky went from the deep hue of calming blue, to a far more perilous and unknowing grey, the clouds went from a pure white to a similar appearance of shrouded darkness. His green-blue eyes darted around hesitantly, unsure of himself as his body was swept along by the ocean, which had now taken control over him. In the distance, a storm was brewing, as those swirling winds conducted themselves into an orchestra that formulated a twisting nether on the brink of the horizon line. His throat contracted tightly - it became a lot harder to breath. His lips parted, mouth agape to try and suck in the needed oxygen to keep him going, to stop him from succumbing to the anchors that were now attached to his feet, trying to drag him down into the abyss below.
Don't let them take control, I've been preparing for this moment, for when the lines were drawn and the stakes were raised.
This isn't even the start of the skirmish, how can I let it end so soon?
I can't.
I won't.
No longer did he have control of the muscles which had sent him on this dangerous journey, out into a sea of the unknown, it only dawned on him then that there WAS no real way to prepare for a situation such as this, the daunting challenge which presented itself before him. The winds that gathered, the storms that brewed... the waves that became increasingly large. There was no escape, there was no miracle waiting to happen, there was only the instinctual nature that could carry him through, past the haze of dark that encompassed him, past the waves that threatened to crush him beneath the impact. His head bobbed above water narrowly, water tried to filter its way into his lungs, but he furiously spat it out, whilst dragging and clawing, fighting to stay above the surface.
It was all becoming too much.
He could feel his arms weakening, his legs turning into lead, as the anchors continued to try and drag him down, it was almost as if pairs of hands were reaching out and clutching him, the weight of the world calling for him to stop. To just give in, to succumb to the power of the ocean - and the things... and people, that resided in it.
What's the point if I shy away now?
What happens to me and the others if we give up, if we allow ourselves to become cannon fodder in this Great War?
How can we let this group of fiends go uncontested, unchallenged, in a time where we should be desperate to take back what's ours?
How can we let this happen, and do nothing?
Why can't I do anything?
...
WHY?
He almost felt like smiling in this glorious moment, where he overcame the mental monsters that had found there way into his mind, causing him to doubt and ponder, contemplate and wonder, forcing him to believe that there was no way out of the inevitable fate that had been sealed for him the moment he tried to step into the limelight.
Only, they were right.
Our young hero, free from the hands of the ones that tried to drag him down, pushed himself further and further up, but as a fiery light - an ember of hope, seems to form in those greenish-blue eyes of him, it dies out in that same moment, as he bears witness to the purest embodiment of destruction he had ever laid eyes upon.
The Tidal Wave, it was here.
Bred from the smaller waves that had merged together, it carried on elegantly, growing only taller as it neared the young man who was...
I-N T-O-O D-E-E-P.
His mouth gave way to let out a scream, but the sounds were DROWNED out by the wave that rode along above the sea like a majestic warhorse, leading it's way directly into the battle. It almost seemed like a Krew group of people stood atop of the wave, watching as it cascaded down toward the lone figure, flailing around in the water helplessly.
In that very moment, it seemed like all were lost. Worst nightmares turn into...
REALity.
Once again, he found himself depleted of energy. He couldn't move, now he remained frozen in place, struck by the chilling cold of the winter waters that left him immobilized.
Finally, the wave crashed down upon him, water flushed down over his being and sent him tumbling through the water. His body cut through it almost effortlessly as the wave carried him, along with the Krew group that stood atop of it, basking in the glory of the destruction it, and in turn, THEY were causing.
He kept his mouth shut as tight as he could, but it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened and the excess of water began to force its way down into his system. Choking him, sending him into a flurry of panic. But unlike the last time, there was no saving himself from his fate.
He could only...
DROWN.
So this is how it ends, huh?
I won't lie, I didn't expect it to all go down this way, in fact, I thought I stood a chance. Back then, I thought I KNEW I had a chance.
Little did I know, reality (REALity?) is a lot different than the positions we seem to dream ourselves up in. That was a time where I'd like to think I was far more innocent then what I am now. Back then, I didn't know what fear was.
Now, I want to say I do.
It's that thing you can't quite put your finger on, but you know when it's happening. Your mind and heart seem to freeze all at once, you feel something clutch at you, something that attempts to control you and stop you frmo doing what you'd normally do in any other situation.
You go from being in complete control, to having no control whatsoever. No clue on what to do, you can't think straight, your body doesn't function the way it's meant to.
THAT is what fear is, and I think only once you've fully experienced you, can you deal with it and conquer it.
Unfortunately for me, it seems like I'm not even going to get a chance.
YOU
NEVER
STOOD
A
CHANCE!
WHAM!
Ethan King awoke to the sounds of birds chirping away in the morning, the flashing rays of sun that beamed through those same windows he walked past every morning in his early preparations before class. The windows that allowed the life of day to flood through into what he was now called his 'home.' Yet it felt unwelcoming as he shot up from the plush pillow beneath his head, which still seemed to be swimming in the eternal ocean.
Sweat trickled down from his face and dripped down onto the sheets, the headache he had started with the night before felt far more prominently then it did just a few hours ago. Frightened and out of sorts, Ethan's head shot towards the right to catch a glimpse of the clock, which read 7:00am. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to rid himself of those visions that were still fresh in his mind.
It didn't work.
He twisted to his side on the bed and hung his head low, his mind still processing what happened. His attention quickly turned to the door, which he heard creaking open as a dark silhouette stepped in, casting a shadow over him and blotting out the sun.
Miguel Myles: Hey dude, you good? You're up an hour late.
The smile he had over him was rather kind, clearly he meant well. Ethan store at him with wide-eyes.
Miguel Myles: Ethan?
He snapped back into REALity.
Ethan King: Yeah?
Miguel Myles: You alright man?
Ethan looked himself over, he had already assumed his appearance was horrid, to say the least. He tried to piece together a smile, but it felt less than half-hearted.
Ethan King: Yeah, I'm good... I'm good. Just... tired?
His attempt to come off in a convincing manner failed miserably, but Miguel had the graciousness to smile and nod, without questioning him in the slightest.
Miguel Myles: Sweet. I'm heading off to grab some breakfast, don't know where Eddie or Gabriel are. I'll see you in class?
Face flushed in a tinge of red, clearly out-of-sorts, he shrugged and swung his legs to the side, planting them solidly onto the ground beneath him, preparing to push himself up to his feet.
Ethan King: I'll... be there.
Miguel Myles: Alright, later dude.
His friend backed out through the same doorway he entered, Ethan didn't say a word. His vision was blurry, his head almost felt like it had been put on a swivel as he swayed uncertainly. In one push, he sent himself up to a vertical base. He wobbled momentarily, but managed to steady himself. Keeping a hand on the white walls of his room at all times, he slowly but surely shuffled his feet forward, until he too was through the doorway. His mind wandered, it didn't feel REAL. An out of body experience that left him delirious and fearful.
You're not hallucinating.
You're living in reality.
And you're going to drown.
He dropped to the ground, landing on his knees as his palms planted onto the ground beneath him, stopping him from crashing and burning. He held himself up for a moment longer, until those mixed thoughts came creeping back.
I can't... hold it... any longer.
Just let go, just for a little bit. I can come back, I can show them all.
I can prove it to the world, I can...
I can.
And with those last words resonating deeply in his mind, he once again succumbed to the dream like lands that reigned supreme over him, the lands that at one point had given him visions of success, glory, greatness and wonder. But now, only gave him one, certain fate, that seemed totally inescapable.
His Fate?
To Drown for eternity.
Allow Me A Moment To Talk, Before I Tear It All Down.
"Still gathering up those response shoots, ready to drop that 'hot fire' that you guys seem to thrive on? Great, while you're doing that, allow me to put an end to all of this bullshit that seems to keep surfacing. Let me debunk some of these myths that the whole federation seems to be operating under, similar to the pretenses and the facades that many of the Krew seems to place over themselves to hide all the failures and hiccups that they experience.
Everyone around here seems to think that all the guys in the Krew are this unbreakable machine filled with this chemistry that makes them invincible in the ring. Can we be real for a second and acknowledge that this is fucking bullshit? This Krew is a bunch of guys who banded together with the idea of dominating the entire federation, but failed to realize that their individual goals would get away of everything. I bet Andre Aquarius is loathing the fact he's getting thrown into more of these 'meaningless' tag matches, that do nothing for him and his career here.
Ain't that right, Andre? You're all about the singles glory, aren't you? Even though you've done literally nothing in your singles career thus far, besides make some challenges to Phoenix for that Hardcore strap. That's how far you've come since entering the federation, that's what you've achieved. Your biggest claim to fame, the biggest moment in this mans career. The guy who calls himself a winner, the egotistical asshole who seems to think he's got it all. He can't even give you a fucking reason he's good. He just say sit.
And what about Beaver? The disgraced former Television Champion with an eye for the gold, but the lack of ability to actually do anything with it. For all the natural talent this guy may have, he throws it all away by associating himself with these pricks who don't really want the best for him. Great work, man. Nice work showing everyone exactly why they should "beavlieve" in you, surround yourself with talent and success and pray to god that you get noticed for whatever reason that resides in that delusional mind of yours.
Keep it up guys, seriously. Keep telling the world that you guys aren't just in this for yourselves, tell the world that you're going to kick everyone's asses and keep your spots at the top of the federation along with the rest of the guys that have carried you to this position, keep trying to throw around your weight but repeatedly get shown up by respectable competition that manages to light you up like a fucking firing squad the moment you step into that ring.
Do it, spit that hot fire at us. Show us what the hype is all about, don't come at us with what we expect. Don't cry and call us "copycats" and say that we're based off you, when in a month we're going to show you up and leave you wondering what the fuck went wrong.
I mean, I can see where you get these ideas from, though. You've got your leader in Jared Holmes trying to tell everyone that all these factions were built from the ground up to combat you guys, and this is exactly why followers like Dustin Beaver and Andre Aquarius are left to fight for the leftovers, the scraps that their 'superiors' have left them.
How fucking sad.
I mean, you can try go around and tell everyone that's not what's happening, but in the end. This is the guy you look up to, this is the man that you look to for guidance. Along with Wade Moor, along with everyone else who doesn't really have enough trust in you to carry the banner and bring the rest of the boys home.
You're still trying to prove yourself to these guys, even though you know, or at least, you THINK you're good enough to hang with them. You don't want to be complacent, you don't want to just take what you're being given and run with it. You're not about that, aren't you? That's why when you're being denied the opportunities you think you deserve, or when you're CHOKING the opportunities that you're being given, you think you're being robbed. You cry foul play, you go into scramble mode and try to set yourself up another title shot that will propel you into a higher slot on the card, closer towards the rest of your Krew, so that you can feel like you're apart of something bigger.
How did the two of you feel, knowing that in less than a month we're already being matched up with you? Without even a real chance to get our feet wet, we're already being considered for a shot that 'should' be a rite of passage for guys like you, these ultra-talented megastars who can't be matched by any of the other guys in the federation.
Because that's how you see yourselves, don't you? You look at the rest of the federation and feel like you're above that shit, like you shouldn't be getting your hands dirty. You're so sick of killing all of these 'fuccbois' that it just feels like routine at this point, is that where you've gotten to?
What the #BeachKrew would say: Yes.
What anyone in their right mind would say: Fuck no.
You see, you're all so far gone you actually think this is how fucking great you are. I think anyone can see that you guys have the potential necessary to reach the top of the food chain, but that isn't being translated right now. Currently? This is just a group of delusional fuckwits who think they don't need to put in the effort to win, they think it's a god-given gift that they're owners of. This is their destiny, this is what they were meant to do the moment they decided they were going to bunny hop up in this bitch and take the WCF by storm.
But things turned out a little differently than that, didn't they?
Sure, you've had your moments of dominance, but like all things, the walls fell down eventually, right? The cracks began to show, the pace began to slow down and you guys became a lot more desperate. Nowadays, you got Jared Holmes literally shooting on his 'teammates' like Johnny Rabid, virtually calling him an embarrassment.
Yep, solid unit you guys got there, LOL.
This shit is fucking pathetic, real talk.
When people tell you you guys aren't a strong a unit as you make yourselves out to be, you shake your heads and say "NUH UH". You try to act as if this shit isn't already going down, you act as if the foundation is beginning to crumble and everyone, you two included, are going to crash down and hit rock fucking bottom.
You can't admit this shit, you can't take a moment to evaluate your position and realize that not everything is the way it seems, you don't have that realistic aspect. You just have all these expectations that you fail to meet, forever and always. That's the #BeachKrew circle of life, they set their sights on a goal and try to reach it. When they make it? They're the fucking best. When they don't? Most of them have excuses prepped and ready, they already have them pre-written and ready to be released out to the public, because they're all scared of being embarrassed. You two? You're not excepted from this.
That's why Andre is so desperate to get this shit popping with Katherine Phoenix, that's why Dustin Beaver screams and shouts, telling everyone that they should believe in him even though they have no reason to.
You want to know what everyone 'beavlieves' in, Dustin?
That you're a fucking imbecile.
No lies, only truth. That's what I've been telling you, and when I say I'm going to step up into that ring and knock you the fuck down, and show you exactly why you aren't all that you make yourself out to be, hopefully you'll realize that it's time to take a step back and think about what you've been doing.
Take the opportunity to look at all the fuck-ups you've made, and reevaluate your life choices. Stepping into this ring with a group of guys that don't even give a single fuck about you. In the end, it's all about the personal achievements and glory, it's all about what you can do as an individual. They don't give a damn about team work and how well the team works together, as long as they're getting their licks in, as long as everyone takes note of them and recognizes just how fucking good they are.
It's gotten to the point that when they're NOT getting that recognition, they revert into little bitches who try to scold everyone and remind them of everything they've done.
That's why, when Wade Moor, Johnny Rabid and Dustin Beaver got beat down by a bunch of new guys who supposedly would never be good enough to match their abilities, they immediately tried to put on that damage control. The whole Krew stepped up and tried to get a one-up on your boys, they wanted to continue to dominate the internet and tell everyone that they were better than this crop of new guys who were looking to make a name of themselves.
Let's be real, that's not the truth.
They're trying to throw shade on your boys, but fail miserably, because they don't have the ability to realize that maybe, just maybe... they can't always come out on top. They've had their victories, there moments of greatness. Some of it has been earned, other times? They just cheat there way to the top, and that's fine. Just don't fucking cry about it when you get your shit kicked in, don't whine and act as if you didn't deserve to lose, even when you clearly got outclassed.
That's something you guys can't accept.
The moment Dustin loses that TV Strap, he immediately goes into denial.
After Andre decides he's done being an eternal jobber, he starts calling himself a winner.
How fucking low can you go?
Is this what the WCF has come to? Having a bunch of so-called "heels" just tell everyone they're the best, even though they got nothing to show for it? It suddenly becomes a lot more clear why everyone is so fucking sick and tired of these guys running their mouths.
Unlike them, I'm not afraid to admit that I'm not the best I can be, that I'm still got a ways to go before I'm taking my talents to the top along with the rest of my boys, but understanding weakness and improving upon it is the first way you can go about becoming a better wrestler, and overall... a better person.
What do these guys know about that?
What do they know about coming underneath that pressure, those high-level matches against competition that actually know what they're doing? How do they prepare for that shit? Do they curl up into a ball and whisper to themselves continuously, repeating the same sentiments about them being the best, about how they're going to absolutely "kill" the opposition?
Is this how you showcase your superiority, by throwing up a wall of confidence, a wall that can be penetrated in one blow, from a well-placed strike that sends their teeth straight down their fucking throats?
Because if so, I'll be glad to do that for you guys. For real, I'll take pleasure in knowing that I've brought Andre and Dustin back into reality. I'll take their best shots, ones that would floor anyone else in the federation, laugh it off, smile at these dickheads, and give them the biggest shock of their lives. That's what this is about, teaching these guys a lesson.
It's happened before, but they haven't seemed to learn. They don't want to accept that they aren't all they make themselves out to be, they aren't willing to look at them facts and start trying to better themselves from their losses. Because that ain't the #BeachKrew way. Instead, you squad up and attack one person at a time, picking them apart.
Joey Flash?
Demarcus Jordan?
Whose next?
And yet, when we attack them, we're the cowards. We're the bad guys in all of this, they try to call us out for acting like the villains when they've been doing this shit their entire careers, that's what their whole legacy is. Getting a group of guys together and hunting down one guy after another. It's all numbers games. That's what their whole WAR showcase was, and even then it wasn't enough for them to come away with the victory.
I think the question is, how far can these guys really go, without the tricks, without all the deception and manipulative bullshit? Without the egos that seem to plague them and leave them oblivious to the fact that they aren't deserving of all these monikers and titles, the ones that thrust upon themselves as they take their invisible thrones, as they ride on these high horses that nobody else can fucking see.
It's a smoke screen dance, it's a haze that they've thrown up to try and blur our perception, out vision of what's really going on here.
A group of guys running scared, worried about how they're looked at by the outside world, they post those dank memes, they spit that hot fire, they commit murder on these 'fuccbois' that run through the federation, and they do it in style. But when they fail?
Oh boy, do they fucking fail.
In one fell swoop, they flop to the fucking ground and flounder, flailing around desperately and trying to clutch for support, they grasp at those excuses and spout out those mean words and insults, hoping and praying that somebody will listen, that somebody will take notice of these fucking losers.
And inside of their heads, they know that they're better than this. They can't believe they're being put into these situations, when they fail to come out on top they can only shake their heads and wonder what happened, like a flash of lightning they go from being sky-high to ground level, and it hits them like a tonne of bricks. The reality, the shit they just can't avoid, the fact that they weren't good enough.
For guys like Andre and Dustin? It's fucking deadly, it messes up their whole mentality, it throws a spanner in the works. Once they take that heart-crushing defeat, they start to reevaluate everything, they rake through their minds, trying to think of a way to bounce back, to throw some shade on that loss. Sometimes? They don't even acknowledge they lost in the first place.
These guys are in denial, plain and simple. They think they're above the WCF, which is funny, considering they're still struggling real hard to try and cement themselves as the top dogs. That's why it must be so fucking painful, for little Andre and Dustin to watch as their comrades land so much higher on the card than them.
Wade Moor's fighting for the World Title, Jared Holmes is trying to clinch his shot at the belt, and Johnny Rabid's getting a high profile match with the one and only Dune, meanwhile, these two self-proclaimed 'winners' are stuck facing off against two guys that they could fucking eviscerate with their eyes closed.
Right?
RIGHT?
Riiiiiiiiiiiight.
Because that's totally what's going on here.
For Dustin and Andre, facing off against these 'Pride nobodies' is a fucking joke, they look at the card and sneer, thinking to themselves that they got this shit in the bag. For them? It's a forgone conclusion, this match doesn't even need a prediction, the moment our names were written across from theirs? We were done for.
So, how bad is it going to be when they step into that ring and take that first shot, when they wake up and realize that they aren't just in for another fucking muckaround match? That they aren't facing delusional spastics from The Family and start to see exactly why we've got all this hype surrounding us?
What's going to happen if they lose? if the guys that they're supposedly so much better than manage to 'pull of the upset' and steal the victory that should've rightfully been there's? How will they react?
They'll shut down, they'll ignore everything. They'll refuse to believe that they somehow got beat, they'll call it a fluke, they'll throw all these shots out on the internet, they'll get their boys to back them up and tell the world they got robbed, even though it just came down to them not being good enough on the day.
But that's not how the #BeachKrew works.
It's time to step up to the plate, boys. This is where you show the world that you're actually worth everything you hype yourselves up to be, you're coming up against the new crop of guys who are set to take over your spot, who are a major threat to a divison that you believe should be dominated by the Krew, and only the Krew.
The pressures on, but you can't see that.
You'll keep remaining oblivious to it, acting like you don't know what's about to happen.
You'll act like there aren't any threats, even though you've got one right under your nose.
Because this is your match, isn't it? These tag belts? They're yours, they don't belong to anyone else but the #BeachKrew. You guys will pick up from where Kyle Kemp and Johnny Rabid left off, carrying that legacy as the two guys who aren't respected enough to get their own shots for singles titles.
This is where you've been placed on the #BeachKrew totem pole, and yet you aren't willing to accept it. You know what? That's fine, but when the going gets tough and you guys are left stranded, I just want you to know...
That I told you so.
That this was going to happen inevitably, no matter how hard you tried to make a difference.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you guys that this is a surefire victory, there are no guarantees in that ring, unless you're gimmes like Dag Riddik, of course. But I will sit here and wait, I'll listen to everything you guys have to say, all those delirious comments you make, I'll hear all the denial and smile, because when we meet in that ring, you can't deny a thing.
Win or lose, you're going to realize that you aren't fucking untouchable, and that this isn't just another cakewalk for the 'dominant force' that is the #BeachKrew.
This is only going to be the first of many battles, in the grand scheme of things? This will only be the building blocks of smoething great to come, but you aren't prepared.
You don't know what's coming.
Fear of the unknown, that's the biggest thing residing in your mind, and that's why you're worried about this match. You don't know what to expect.
So I'll let you know exactly what you CAN expect.
A fight.
This isn't going to be your reckoning moment, where you show your dominance over the tag team division, you're going to have to earn it. The question is... can you actually accomplish that feat?
I doubt it.
Prove me wrong guys, I'll be waiting.
I'll always be waiting.
See you in the ring."
