Post by Thomas Uriel Bates on Oct 16, 2016 16:12:31 GMT -5
Thunder in Paradise
Scene I “Who Are We?”
Ala Moana Beach Park – Honolulu, Hawaii
Scene I “Who Are We?”
Ala Moana Beach Park – Honolulu, Hawaii
Why is it that every time you want to go swimming at the beach, it seems to be crowded? Even if it’s empty when you pull up, by the time you hit the water you’re already bumping into some other family that decided to come out at exactly this time to the same exact spot you already picked out. You’re already fighting seaweeds and whatever else might be lurking in the waters, but now you’re fighting not to get squished by the massive crowds.
At the center of one such crowd we see none other than WCF superstar, and now former WCF World Champion Thomas Uriel Bates surrounded by a herd of fans. Each fan holding up notebooks, markers, pens, whatever they could get their hands on. Bates for his part, signed everything he could for the fans. He signed the notebooks, he signed the bikini tops, he shook hands, he hugged the fans, he did everything he could to make their experience with him a positive one. The Mountain of WCF was a fan favorite, and he loved every moment of it.
Why would he be a fan favorite though? He’s big, he’s strong, and he’s got talent. In the days of old this would make a great fan favorite, but in today’s world that makes for the favorite to hate. It seems that today, if you stand up for something, if you have skill, if you have the looks, if you have the strength, the size, the build, it just doesn’t matter. It seems now days that the fans want more of the “average” person who doesn’t stand a chance against the Titans of the industry.
So what is it that makes Thomas Uriel Bates likeable to these fans, to these modern fans? In spite of his size, in spite of his strength, in spite of his talents, he always seems to be the underdog. But why would a man with the body of Adonis and the strength of Hercules be the underdog? Perhaps this is due to a certain Code that our mountain follows. The ancient and nearly forgotten Code of Chivalry.
It is a rarity in this world that we find a man who truly follows a Code. It is even more scarce that we find a man who follows the Code of Chivalry as set upon by the French Saga, The Song of Roland, the legend of one of Charlemagne’s greatest Paladins. No man is perfect, and at times even our mountain has strayed from his path, but he does everything he can to follow it. If off the path, he will find his way back. It is his honour that drives him.
Honour demands that he fear God and maintain His Church, which he follows as thoroughly as he can. Though not a member of any particular Church, nor accepting of any denomination including the non-denominational denomination, he does hold tight his King James Bible and will preach the Word whenever the opportunity arrives. This has often found him as a Chaplain of sorts, both in the Dark Riders Gang MC, and occasionally in the locker room of the WCF.
Honour demands that he serve the liege lord in valour and faith. This is the toughest task set upon him, as he has often had disagreements with Seth Lerch, his boss. Bates has found that in order to follow the rest of the Code, it is this particular part of the Code that must at times be broken. A prime example being The Family. Bates set this part of the Code aside so that he could defend the WCF, and uphold the rest of the Code against a tyrannical leader bewitched by the likes of Logan and The Family. Even now it seems, he must violate this part of the Code to uphold the rest.
Honour demands that he protect the weak and defenceless. In the world of professional wrestling, is there such a thing as weak and defenseless? How can one call people such as Oblivion, Adam Young, Kevin Bishop, or Tom-O-Hawk weak and defenseless? The protection of the weak and defenseless is not always about strength. Sometimes even the strongest of us need help, sometimes even the mightiest of mountains can be weak and in need of defense. Bates has done everything he can to stand up for the locker room, which even now pits him against
He will live by honour and for glory, and ask no pecuniary reward. Never once has Bates asked for higher wages simply for doing what is required of him. When he rid the WCF of The Family, when he formed the Union, and when he initiated the renewed contract negotiations with Seth Lerch, he never asked for money. He did it simply because it was the right thing to do. He fought for the welfare of all in the WCF, because his Code demanded it of him.
He fought for the honour of his fellow wrestlers. He eschews unfairness, meanness and deceit all while fighting Seth Lerch and The Family, and now
Thomas Uriel Bates is a man not of this time, not of the age of
Why demean the locker room? Why demean the fans? If the locker room is so unworthy, what would that make of those who defeat them? If they care less about the fans, then who would pay for the merchandise and the tickets, therefore paying them for the very job they have? Is their opinion of themselves so little that they must then do everything they can to belittle others?
What of Zombie McMorris, the very opponent of Thomas Uriel Bates? Is he an elite amongst elites? He does have the most successful Internet Championship reign in WCF history, but what exactly is that? To be the Champion of the internet, typing FGT and LOL over and over again, copying and pasting your own small comment multiple times and just simply out-trolling your opponent? He may go around acting like he’s the greatest wrestler in the business, but the facts have proven otherwise. Is this what qualifies as elite for
No, this is not the Pantheon that once stood as icons in the business. This is simply a revival of Beachkrew, the WCF’s most hated stable. The group that goes around talking about how cool they are, how everyone else doesn’t measure up, and how they are so much better because mommy and daddy bought them a new yacht to play with. They left the company in ruin, and only came back when the real WCF, the WCF loyalists, rebuilt the place. Now they have come back to destroy it again. They are not the elite of the elite, not anymore. Now they are just a bunch of random immature millennials with no respect, no decency, and no class.
They are bullies, and there’s only one way to deal with bullies. Thomas Uriel Bates knows how to deal with bullies, and that is why he has always, and will always stand against the tide of sewage that in
So that’s what Thomas Uriel Bates will be doing. That’s who Thomas Uriel Bates is. He is a fighter. He is a champion, title or no title. He is the Mountain of WCF not for his size, but for his determination. Thomas Uriel Bates will be the defender of WCF, even against the likes of
Scene II “Once More”
Diamond Head – Honolulu, Hawaii
Diamond Head – Honolulu, Hawaii
Seven times Thomas Uriel Bates had stood in the ring against Zombie McMorris. This coming Sunday would be the eighth. This was by no means the same as the Gemini Battle versus Joey Flash matches, but Bates had been in the ring with the Coked Up Madman enough to know his every move. Zombie McMorris is after all, a very predictable individual.
Only once has Zombie McMorris triumphed over the Mountain of WCF, yet it was not through the working of Zombie McMorris. Instead it was Kevin Bishop’s rising star-power that triumphed over the legacy of Teddy Blaze. While Bishop did give McMorris is first official victory against our mountain, it was not by his own hand. Every other time they had faced, McMorris was defeated.
So again they face each other. Again their paths cross. Bates soundly a defender of WCF, and Zombie McMorris aligned with those that seek to destroy the very company he had achieved so much in. McMorris having proved that his desire to be seen as some status far above his own is greater than his desire to prove himself worthy in any true light.
Seven times, yet once more they face each other, but this time they will do it alone. This time it will truly be Zombie McMorris versus Thomas Uriel Bates. There will be no Jay Omega or Dan Van Slade. There will be no Vapor Kings. There will be no fight to be included in the Ultimate Showdown, nor will there be a Trios Championship to contend for. This will simply be Thomas Uriel Bates versus Zombie McMorris.
The Coked Up Madman against the Mountain of WCF. All of these thoughts move through the mind of Thomas Uriel Bates like gears moving some great mechanical device. The implications of this match, the risks involved, the statement a victory, or a defeat, can make through just one match.
Our giant stands upon the ridge of Diamond Head, looking down into the dead volcano at Fort Ruger as he ponders on the nature of his upcoming match. A WCF Camera Drone hovers slightly above his right shoulder, trying to film what could be another required promotional video from the now former WCF World Champion.
Thomas Uriel Bates reaches in his pocket and pulls out a leather cigar case. He opens the top and pulls out a Montecristo White Series Churchill. He returns the case to his pocket and withdraws a lighter. He seems lost in thought as he withdraws a punch from the lighter and carefully punches a figure eight on the head. He returns the punch to the lighter and uses the torch to heat up the foot. Satisfied, he blows on the foot until it is fully red, a sure sign of an even burn. He takes in the smoke and allows it to roll on his tongue as he closes his eyes briefly. The smoke slowly escapes his mouth, dancing towards the heavens as the giant opens his eyes at stares at the drone.
He speaks as he always speaks, with elegance and pose. The deep Mississippi Delta Southern Accent sounding like music to the ears, and his tone soft, yet firm. Our mountain speaks with substance, a sharp contrast to the Coked Up Madman and his FGTs and LOLs.
Thomas Uriel Bates: So here we are again, McMorris. You and I facing each other on the path to better and greater things. Each one of us determined in our goals, yet our goals far different from each other. You a member of BeachKrew, I’m sorry, Pantheon, even now attempting to conquer the WCF and destroy everything we had built up in the last few months. I, as the defender of WCF, tirelessly running around sounding the alarm and trying to raise the troops.
Some listened, yes. The Brotherhood, Zero Tolerance, Oblivion, Adam Young, CJ Phoenix, these people listened and prepared for the assault. We were criticized for our actions; told we were preparing for an invasion that was never to come. That BeachKrew wasn’t on the way, that Joey Flash was alone, that Jay Omega hated them, that BeachKrew would never be welcome, and yet at War I was proven right. Change the name all you want, call yourself Pantheon in memory of that old and deceased stable, call yourself Sentinels in memory of those that once thought they stood so firm in defense of others yet crumbled under the weight of their own corruption. No matter what you call yourself, you are still the vile and villainous group of millennial thugs that tore this company apart not but a few months ago.
Yes, Mister McMorris joined the side of the darkness, as it was predicted. He never stood for anything except himself. Never once dedicated himself to a cause greater than himself. Never once stood for something, anything, of substance. No, he is simply the Coked Up Madman stalking the internet and claiming greatness for a task often performed by adolescent teenagers on various social media websites in between their various YouTube videos, PC Games, and I dare not mention what other tasks idle hands often find themselves with.
Yet even now he will attempt to prove himself greater than what he is. Even now he will attempt to make some statement, come up with some philosophy, or perhaps even attempt to predict the things of which I will say. He will even make wild claims that make no sense, instead acting as if he’s breaking some kind of fourth wall and speaking to some other individual that may be behind all that we see and know. This is Zombie McMorris; one of the most predictable members of the WCF locker room.
So what does he do to prepare for his match? I work out, he does his drugs. I study the previous matches of both my opponent, and myself, and he looks up my profile on WCFwrestling.com only to come up with random stereotypical comments such as how I must be racist since I’m from Alabama, or how I must be some backwoods hillbilly because of my belief in God, Guns, and the Constitution. How I must be fat because I’m four hundred and thirty pounds. Or how I must be some mean ol’ outlaw biker simply because I own a motorcycle and belong to a Motorcycle Club. Zombie McMorris doesn’t train for his matches, he simply thinks he’s the greatest thing on earth and believes he doesn’t have to. That is why the only victory he can claim over me comes with someone else’s hand being raised and someone else’s shoulders on the mat.
Unlike McMorris, I train. I train in the various wrestling styles, in Judo, in Jujitsu, in Wing Chun, in Fencing, in every single way I can train myself. I train myself to be better. I embark on a journey to better myself in body, mind, and soul. I do everything I can to ensure that I am at the greatest point in my life that I have ever been. I thrive to achieve more than what I already have. I’ve been Television Champion, McMorris, and I thrived to become better. I became the United States Champion, I thrived to do better. I became the Trios Champion, the Tag Team Champion, and yet I thrived for more. I became the World Champion, a Triple Crown Champion, and yet I thrive for even more. Why? Why would I not be satisfied? Because I thrive to be better than I am. Something you, McMorris, would never understand.
I thrive to be more than I am, but you have no such desire. You already feel as though you have accomplished so much. You already feel as though you are the best. You don’t work harder, because you think you’ve already worked hard enough. You don’t push yourself to the top, because you feel you’ve already pushed yourself as high as you’re going to go. You are already at the status you wish to achieve in life, now all you can do is wither away and die.
Now I know that you’ve already come out with some promotional video. I suspect that you have already included the usual in it. How I’m a racist simply for the color of my skin and the place of my birth, how I’m fat because of my weight regardless of muscle mass, how I’m slow in spite of my speed, or how I’m nothing. That’s my favorite one to hear from you, McMorris, how I am nothing. How I have no talent, that I have no skill, that I amount to nothing, and how you are so much better than I am. Yet time after time, six times even, soon to be seven, I have come out ahead of you, either by not losing to you or by even defeating you. Which is it to be, McMorris? Am I nothing, which makes you less than even that, or am I someone good enough to beat such a legendary wrestler such as yourself?
Perhaps now, once I defeat you in this singles bout, I will silence your criticism? Or is that too much to ask for? Even once I pin your shoulders to the mat, or force you into submission, will you still claim to be the better wrestler? Will you still claim to have more talent, to claim that I am nothing? When it is soundly, one on one proven that you simply do not measure up, will you finally admit the error of your ways or will you continue on in some fantasy world in which you are the adolescent teenager sitting at his computer trolling the internet?
This is the first of many more matches to come, McMorris. While Team WCF takes on your Team BeachKrew, I mean Pantheon, I will be here taking each and every one of you out, one by one. When all is said and done, you and all of your little buddies, will know that the WCF is not a place that you can simply run rampant in, and that Thomas Uriel Bates is not a man to take lightly.
Our giant, now satisfied with his obligations, turns from the drone. It hovers ahead as Thomas Uriel Bates slowly descends the mountain, making his way back to civilization beneath him. He had come to the top of a silent volcano and spoke his mind about his opponent. Though as he speaks to Zombie McMorris, his opponent this week, he speaks also to Joey Flash, to Jay Omega, to Dune, to Corey Black, to all members of BeachKrew Pantheon.
Thomas Uriel Bates is coming.
Scene III “Traitors”
Hālona Blowhole – Honolulu, Hawaii
Hālona Blowhole – Honolulu, Hawaii
Here is one of the most dangerous places in the world. Beneath these waves is the Molokai Express, a legendary current able to carry poor souls to Molokai, around thirty miles away. This rocky formation, the geyser-like blowhole, the powerful current, all have been responsible for many deaths through-out the years. Yet it is still an attraction in this Paradise.
It is enough of an attract to bring Thomas Uriel Bates here. Our mountain stands just outside the gate, looking in at the formation, and watching as the water shoots out from the blowhole. Wave after wave hits the rocks, and the constant threat of death is easily masked by the beauty of the scenery.
One of the things professional wrestling has done for Thomas Uriel Bates, is let him see the world. He had traveled many times, yes. He had even visited Hawaii before, but each time is a new experience for him. He loves to explore these strange places, and see how different the world really is. Is soul wanders the globe in search of these new and exciting places, and professional wrestling, lately the WCF, provides him a means to do so.
Now all that is threatened. A group of individuals who tore the WCF apart were now back, having been away for so long. They left and tried their own company, only to come crawling back to the WCF in the hopes of proving themselves so much better than the rest of us. Perhaps their own failure brings them back to the WCF, where Bates and many others have toiled tirelessly to rebuild. They now want to take that away.
All the work that Bates did, all the work that everyone else in that locker room did, all for nothing. Seth Lerch allows back the very people who ripped the WCF apart at the seams, and now we start with trouble once more. Things were going good too, so many rising stars, so many opportunities, now all gone away and for what? Some millennial kids to run around acting like they own the place? Wiping away all that had been accomplished? Bates, Bishop, Battle, Twilight, Phoenix, and so many others have shed their blood, sweat, and tears into this company, only to see it all washed away by the greed of traitors and the selfishness of so-called legends.
Bates speaks to an empty beach. No one is around to hear him, except maybe the WCF Drone hovering about somewhere, out of view of our champion. He was so use to it being there, that if the Drone was absent, would he even know? Would we even get a glimpse of this moment, or would we never know it existed? You may hear the hum of the drone somewhere, or you may hear instead the rumbling of the waves. Never-the-less, our mountain speaks.
Thomas Uriel Bates: I saw this coming. The moment Johnny Rabid showed his face in this company, demanding some title shot that he didn’t deserve, I knew that they would swarm in like the bad case of crabs they are. Come back to destroy what they failed to destroy the first time. Come back to finish us off, thinking we were weak enough for a coup de grâce.
Such was not the case. They came in expecting an easy ride, but instead we were ready. Some of us anyway, those that listened. Those such as Zero Tolerance, The Brotherhood, Sarah Twilight, Adrian Archer, CJ Phoenix, all of us were ready, weren’t we? We expected Johnny Rabid, we expected Joey Flash, we expected Jay Omega, we expected all of BeachKrew, we expected them all, didn’t we?
Except for Corey Black. I even expected Zombie McMorris and even Odin Balfore, perhaps even some others, to come out and join forces with Beachkrew. Never did I think it would be the man who dedicated his life to the WCF; Corey Black. Never once did I think his greed was so great, never once did I think his selfishness was so powerful, that he would turn his back on the WCF and join the invaders, join Beachkrew. Never once did I expect him to relinquish the title of Pantheon to such an undeserving collection of individuals. Never once did I expect him to tarnish the name of Pantheon. Never once did I expect Corey Black to be a traitor.
They have their own personal agendas, their own goals. Corey Black wants to be seen as some grand hero, some King of All Wrestlers, when in reality he is nothing but a jealous prince scared of his brother’s rising influence. You don’t like me, Corey? That’s fine. Face me in the ring with honour, don’t go joining some invading group to take over everything the real WCF has been working for. Don’t turn your back on the company, or to the locker room. Don’t sully the name of Corey Black, or Pantheon, or the WCF. Don’t betray yourself just for some grudge against me.
Yet here you are, now a member of BeachKrew pretending to be Pantheon. Along with the other turncoat, Zombie McMorris, powered only by your own greed and corruption. You have proven that you care nothing about the WCF, and only about yourself. You have proven that you cannot put the company above yourself, and that your own selfishness is the only reason you’re here.
No one else can be better than you, even if they have defeated you. No one else can be greater than you, regardless of what they have accomplished. No one else can be as bright a shining star as you, even though you live in the darkness. If I am beneath you, if I am nothing to either one of you traitors, then why go through so much trouble to defeat me? Why go through so much to destroy me?
I have faced Corey Black five times in that ring. My arm raised in victory twice, his only once. His victory only accomplished after a year of plotting, and after several sneak attacks to weaken me. If I am nothing, Corey, why go through so much trouble to defeat me? Shouldn’t you have been able to simply gotten in the ring with me and easily take me out? Why the extra work Mister King of All Wrestlers? If you truly claim your title, why then was I not some easy victory for you? Why then did my arm get raised twice?
Likewise, I have faced Zombie McMorris seven times in that ring. Three times my arm went up in victory, and his only once. His victory only achieved through the hard work and determination of one of the fastest rising stars in the WCF, Kevin Bishop. If I am beneath you, McMorris, shouldn’t I have lost easily to you seven times? If you truly are a legend in this business, why couldn’t you beat me? Why couldn’t you have accomplished such a trivial task? If I am nothing in your eyes, what then are you?
It is not your love of WCF that drove you into the arms of BeachKrew, it was your own selfishness, your own greed, your own cowardice. You see me holding the WCF World Championship, and you can’t stand it. You can’t stand it, because it’s a reminder that I am not nothing, that I have achieved much in the WCF. You can’t stand seeing me, night after night, in the main event while you have dropped lower in the card. You cannot stand that I actually have done something, while you have wasted away the twilight years of your career.
You couldn’t stand it, and you couldn’t beat me, so you went off to find some friends. Nevermind all they have done to tear apart the company, you needed them. You need Dune, you need Joey Flash, you need Wade Moore, you need all of these people, because you would rather see the WCF fall than see someone you have deemed as unworthy actually make something of himself here.
That is the real reason for your betrayal. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re doing this for WCF. You’re doing this for you, and only you.
Bates stops, turns away from the gate still never seeing the WCF Drone, or even really knowing if it is there.
Thomas Uriel Bates: I’m doing this for the WCF.
With that, our giant walks away. The waves continue to clash on the rocky formation, and the water continues to shoot out with tremendous force. The Mountain of WCF however, continues on his path. His path to rid the WCF of the invasion, and to now rid it of once legends turned traitors.
