Post by Corey Black on Oct 30, 2016 16:30:39 GMT -5
What a month it has been. Corey Black shocked the world, well most of the world, and won the WCF World Title for the sixth time. Tying Logan's reigns for the belt once again, and surpassing him on overall title victories once again. Whatever you want to call him - King of All Wrestlers, The Avenger, The Pantheon, The Jomsviking - it doesn't matter, because before you get to a nickname, you have to start with 'WCF World Heavyweight Champion.'
It was thirteen years ago when Corey first won the belt. Combining the WCF Television and WCF World Championships by beating a bigger man for the prize. As short lived as it was, he broke the mold. A cruiserweight could be World Champion, and from then on, he has shown the world that just because his height and weight are below average, Corey Black is an above average combatant. Way above average. Some would argue he's the best.
And what does the best do after beating Thomas Bates and Adam Young in World Title matches?
He takes a fuckin' break.
Smash open to a giant wooden sign across a dirt roadway leading into a heavily wooded area. "Shady Grove" is what it says. It's night time, the sign is lit by an oncoming car's headlights. It's a smaller black car, Corey Black driving and who else in the passenger seat? Multi-platinum recording artist and rumored bae - Taylor Swift. They're both cheerful and laughing in the car as they pull up so a secluded cabin. The windows of this cabin are lighting up different colors and music blasts through the walls. It's pretty clear that there's a party going on in this place. Corey parks the car and gets out, walking around to open the passenger door for Taylor. She bursts out of the car and basically runs as fast as she possibly can in heels up to the cabin and explodes inside, not even stopping to greet whomever is inside, she goes right to dancing. Corey hasn't even closed his passenger door yet, instead opting to watch the antics of his ... friend? As the song winds down and the next is about to play, Corey closes the door and something catches his ear to the right. A branch snapping, a twig crunching, whatever it was, Corey turns his head to it. He scans the trees and sees nothing. Suspicous, Corey take a step but then is called from the cabin.
Taylor Swift
COREY BLACK GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND DANCE!
Corey Black
You know I don't dance!
Taylor Swift
Shut up and hurry!
One last quick look, nothing there. Corey turns and starts walking toward the cabin. He reaches the steps and enters the front door. There's a few people in there, some sipping on punch, a couple dancing, and one manning the device playing music through the speakers. Everyone is dressed up in costumes - except Corey. Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy calls out to him.
Groot
Hey man, where's your costume?
Corey Black
It's not that I forgot, but I have a lot on my mind so I didn't think dressing up was in my best interest. You know what I mean.
Groot
Yeah I suppose I feel you, walking in with a piece of tail like that, I wouldn't want her to forget who I am either.
Corey looks at Groot quizzically, then closes his eyes, shakes his head like his head hurts because of how DUMB that comment was and walks away. He heads to the drinks counter. All alcoholic. Quick sigh, and he heads to the porch. Taylor is there, dressed as a gender bent version of Kanye West. Heels, gray joggers, foil gold shirt and annoying blinder sunglasses. Many of the people there compliment her outfit as Corey walks up.
Corey Black
This uh.. this isn't my jam.
Taylor Swift
I know, but you need to get your mind off what you're doing for a while. You're just go go go and there's no relaxation.
Corey Black
That's how I have been for over a decade.
Taylor Swift
And that's why you're always so high strung.
Taylor pokes Corey's nose with her finger, she knows she got him. He knows it too, a long sigh eminates from his lungs. As the last bit of air escapes, the power in the cabin goes out. Audible groans from most everyone there, as it seems like the party is just about over. That's when the heavens open up and the rain begins coming down in buckets. Wind picks up and begins whipping the waves of the lake hard against the beach the cabin rests on. Lightning crashes about, sending thunder ricocheting off every single tree that lines the clearing the cabin was built on. People begin running to their cars and driving away, but Corey and Taylor stay behind. They've retreated inside, to an empty wooden building fully stocked with food and drinks.
Taylor Swift
Well. I mean it could be worse.
Lightning hits outside and illumines the porch, where a masked man is standing. Corey barely sees it out of his left eye and as fast as he can turn his head, the lightning has dissapated.
Corey Black
Did you see that?
Taylor Swift
No, what was it?
Corey Black
Someone is standing outside the window.
Taylor Swift
Oh come on, Mr. Horror Movie Buff. I'm sure.
She reaches under the coffee table and pulls out a flashlight. Flicking it on and pointing it at the window, there's nothing but rain. Corey is confused and slightly annoyed.
Corey Black
Shit, turn that off! Maybe he didn't see us!
Taylor Swift
See us? There's nobody out there. Al the cars are gone and it looks like yours is stuck in the mud. No getting in or out. You're stuck here with me.
Slowly, Taylor removes her stupid-ass Kanye sunglasses and begins leaning in. From outside, there's a boom. Not a thunder boom, a normal boom. One that rattles the door. This spooks them both. They jump up and once again shine the flashlight at the window.
...
Nothing.
Taylor Swift
Alright, you might have a point.
Corey Black
Are you sure the car won't go?
Taylor Swift
Dude, it's pretty much a mud lake out there.
Corey Black
Fuck. Fuck fuck. Who the hell would be messing with us?
Taylor Swift
I don't know, every single person you have ever come in contact with?
Corey Black
Alright, you may have a point.
Taylor pinches her eyelids together, glaring at Corey. He stands up and walks over to the door. With caution he opens it just a crack and peeks out. Yep, muddy as fuck. Rear wheel drive car. That thing isn't going anywhere until the morning. Also, there's mud prints on the door mat. He closes the door quickly and locks it.
Corey Black
Well, is there a room in this place that doesn't have a window?
Taylor Swift
No but there's a basement.
Corey Black
Good grief no, not the basement. I've seen this movie before. Let's go to the bathroom.
Corey rushes passed Taylor and grabs her hand as they hurry to the bathroom. Corey shuts the door and locks it behind him. He pulls his cell phone out for light and to make a call. But.. of course..
Corey Black
No signal! Damnit, it's Minnesota, I should get coverage everywhere!
Taylor Swift
Maybe the storm knocked out the cell towers too. I'm sure we'll be fine in here.
Corey Black
Oh don't say things like that.
From outside the bathroom, a noise is heard. Like dragging a metallic object across a wood floor. I don't know how to describe it, but it's chilling to say the very least. Corey steps in front of Taylor as the door is shoved open. There stands a man in a boiler jumpsuit and a hockey mask, wielding a machete.
Corey Black
Nice blade.
The man turns his head to the side and rushes in, only to be pushed right back out by Corey. He slams the man into the wall of the cabin, rocking his head back. Corey goes for the mask, but he blocks it and takes a swipe! Corey moves out of the way and the machete comes in contact with the door frame of the bathroom. Taylor is inside screaming, and the struggle continues against the wall. The man punches Corey in the side of the head, knocking him down. The stalking of Taylor commences, she stands up on the toilet and tries to escape out a small window but the man grabs her ankle. She kicks and kicks until Corey comes back in and literally dropkicks the guy in the back of the head. This sends him face first into the tank of the toilet and crumbling to the ground. Taylor scurries down and runs with Corey through the cabin and out the front door into the rain.
They head straight for the car. Hop in, Corey starts the engine and tries to move but the mud is too slippery. The hockey masked man comes lurching out of the cabin and heads right for the car. Taylor locks the doors. Corey just looks at her.
Corey Black
We need to watch more movies.
The man sends his fist right through the driver's side window and grabs Corey by the shirt. He pulls Corey out of the car and throws him into the mud. Corey stands right back up and punches the man right in the face. This cracks the mask and Corey can see beyond it now.
Corey Black
Oh fuck me, RUN.
Taylor opens the door and runs into the woods, the man giving chase. Corey is right there behind him, throwing another punch to the head. This turns the guy around, he grasps Corey by the back of the head and slams him into a tree. This rocks Corey, but doesn't drop him. Instead, Corey shakes his head and launches a kick to the nuts. This drops the man to his knees, quivering in pain. A leaping elbow strike to the top of the head later, and the man is woozy. Corey rips the mask off and stares right into his eyes.
Corey Black
I've beat you once, you motherfucker, and I'm about to beat you again.
Corey steps to the back of the kneeling man and places his hands on the chin and side of this man's head. With one quick motion, Corey snaps his neck where he sits. A sickening crunch echoes through the woods, and a lifeless body falls to the ground. There, motionless, laying on the soaked soil is Corey Black. And standing over him..
..is Corey Black.
From the Earth, long sharp hooks raise out and thrust into the lifeless body. This brings life back to the corpse, his eyes turn pure white and the face paint slowly melts onto his face. Creeping Death has once again been beaten. The hooks drag Creeping Death down into the ground, leaving nothing more than a smoldering pile of burnt leaves. From behind a tree, Taylor Swift peeks out.
Taylor Swift
That.. that's what is inside you?
Corey Black
Erm.. uh.. yeah. Sometimes it goes a bit rogue. Most of the time others can't see him, though.
Taylor Swift
I couldn't. I just saw a knife and a mask.
Corey Black
Great. ...great.
Taylor Swift
We should probably get out of here.
Corey Black
Look, that doesn't happen. I mean.. that shouldn't have happened. I don't know what is going on anymore.
Taylor Swift
It's fine. Really, it is. I knew what I was getting into when I started to become interested in a guy that is about to fight a gigantic biker and an alien. May as well throw in a construction worker and Indian, take on the entire Village People.
Corey can't help but laugh. As ridiculous as that sounds, she's right. This is WCF, and some wacked out shit happens in WCF. Stuff you'd never see anywhere else. Standing there in the pouring rain, the WCF World Champion just sent something he created when he was a child back to wherever it came from with the most famous popstar in the world. Soon, he's set to battle a man twice his size and one that is similar, yet totally different than he is. The power struggle for the WCF World Championship and WCF itself culminates tonight.
Inside the Xcel Energy Center, Corey Black sits alone in his locker room. The WCF World Title slung over his lap, he looks down at it without even blinking. The gold glistens under the lights of the locker room. The strap is old and worn, but that's just telling of an age old World Championship. Corey isn't even dressed yet, as it's still pretty early in the day. A stagehand knocks on the locker room door and motions for Corey to follow him. He nods, stands up and places the belt over his shoulder. Corey walks down the hallway and to the promo area, where the wrestlers film for various things. WCFwrestling.com, the Youtube channel, Facebook, you name it, it is filmed here. A faceless guy is finishing up his video, when the director notices Corey. He waves Corey to the banner, under the lights. A camera pointed right at his face. Corey cracks his neck to the left, then the right, and the red light is on.
Corey Black
I walked into the arena today a new man. A new fire lit underneath me. As you can see, I hold the WCF World Championship on my shoulder. A place it has been a total of six times. More than almost anyone else on thie planet. I don't know what my opponents think they can do to me that hasn't already been done. They can boast about their accomplishments for the three minutes it takes both of them to list. Then I'll have to sit them down and go on a sixty minute TED Talk to even come close to finishing off my list. That's the past though, isn't it? We should probably talk about the present. And the future. Starting off with my boy Tommy.
How does it feel to be at the bottom, Thomas? My bottom bitch, The Mountain Thomas Uriel Bates. I told you from day one that you couldn't beat me. Day numero uno, I knew that you were not the man you claimed you were. A big, beefy badass with arms bigger than both of my legs put together. A foot taller, two hundred pounds heavier - and still without a victory over me. I understand though, it's not that big of deal to you. I'm a legend, a Hall of Famer, all that. But it IS a big deal to me. All the shit you talked to me about how DRG was the catalyst in the death of Pantheon, your chest puffed out like a small man has no chance.. you say one thing, and then you turn right around and say the exact opposite. That's what your kind is known for though. People like you say exactly what the other party wants to hear until it doesn't benefit you anymore. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you came knocking on Pantheon's door asking to join up after the clean sweep they're about to lay down during the Hellimination Match. Rally the troops and lead them to their slaughter. Good man.
See, the thing about 'Team WCF' is that it isn't 'Team WCF' at all. Pantheon and I, we aren't the enemy here. We're the solution. It's not some jibba jabba in my head, it's the honest to fuck TRUTH. This company was a shell of itself with Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle as World Champions. Not to mention Oblivion, Jeff Purse and Stuart Slane. Shit, Adam Young got a World Title match out of the deal because this whole roster is a bunch of boo-hoo bitch men. Nobody able to stand the heat when the fire is on. Enter: Corey Black, the savior of the company. A dozen times I've put my neck on the line to make sure WCF was open and running. This is no different. I've joined forces with the guys that left. Unheard of, right? That's because you're taking this shit at face value. Sure, the men at my side turned their cheeks and bailed. But what you seem to forget is WHY they left. And WHY I am proud to stand next to them upon their triumphant return. WCF had been plagued for years by a Ghost of Bullshit Past. An entity that had no place here for over a decade. A being that would get preferred treatment at every turn, and for what? Because he was a good wrestler? Give me a break, dude hadn't beat me in eight years. Yet here's ol' Corey, the one guy that sticks with WCF through thick and thin - getting fucked over year in and year out. Team of Treachery, Team of Torture, DRG, Genesis, you fuckin' name it, Seth put rockets on their asses and shot them to the moon. They come and go, another flavor of the month comes along like ICE Beckman. Rocket. Moon. Joey Flash had to fight his way through the mid-card for six months. Johnny Rabid has been toiling in tag-team and People's Title matches for his entire run. ZMAC is regulated to the Internet Title and Jayson Price - while a dick - didn't get half as many chances as he should have. To top it all off you have me. I've won more World Title shots than I have lost by a margin of two to one. Six World Title victories, three defeats. I'm not in every opening video. Wade Moor isn't in every opening video. David Sanchez isn't, Jared Holmes, Dune - none of them. The backbone of this entire goddamn company, the best WRESTLERS WCF has to offer, all pushed aside because one man dressed in a hotdog suit, another draws funny cartoons, and there's a gay alien and a giant biker. I had to beat five other men in six matches within a span of seven days to get my hands on you, Bates. I went through the gauntlet simply to get my hands on you and whatever prize you held. I didn't chase you for a year, I didn't plan out a giant scheme.. I took a chance and it payed off. Sure, I was annoyed about what happened last year. It was a driving force. But you didn't believe me. You made up your own hero scenario and ran with it. You're the villain of this tale, you're the parasite that needs to be eliminated from this company for the good of it all.
I approved the reformation of Pantheon because Pantheon breeds fucking greatness. With the name behind them, these men will be Gods. Look what it did for Jay Omega and Alex Richards. Same deal, dicking off in the undercard, turned into two World Champions. See Bates, this is the shit you conveniently overlook. You turn a blind eye to it because it doesn't benefit you in any way, in fact, we're taking your spot. Straight up, I took this WCF World Title from you and I'm gifting the main event slot you were hogging to Joey Flash. He won War. I broke you. There's no arguing, get over it, Pantheon is the present and future once again. You - you're prime threat number one. The one guy in this place that has the power to do something about the problems here, yet he chooses to become the biggest one. Thomas Bates is big, he's strong, and he's about as smart as an actual, real life mountain. We aren't a cancer that has infected WCF, we are the saviors of this company. When I lay you down once again, and my team comes out with the sweep, we'll head to One and leave it holding all the gold - and thus all the power. You may as well just announce your retirement now, soon there will be nothing for you here. You're not living in Mikey's America anymore, you're living in Pantheon's WCF. It's not traitorous, you Confederate flag waiving doofus. If anything, it's overthrowing the government with pure unadulterated power. We walked in the doors at War and took everything we wanted to take at the expense of those that are just okay with the pathetic humans that claim their spot in my home.
This isn't my last stand, not by a long shot. Bates Boot me to the moon all you want, I worked on that for a month and I took you down every single time I hit it. How annoying that must have been for you. The "most feared strike in professional wrestling" is done better by a man half your size. I guess that's the difference between us, ol' Tommy. When I want something, I work at it hard and achieve it. When you want something you wait for the best in the company to leave and move up by default. That, or you build a criminal empire and disguise it as a biker gang. You know, whatever. On the other hand, I lock myself away for a month and focus completely on the task at hand. I didn't need Pantheon to beat you, I won't need them to do anything else. That argument is old and dry. I don't need them to be in the main event, or the public eye, anything. I won this WCF World Title without anybody behind me. I have proven every single person that said a word to me in the last four years wrong. No, sir, I do not need a stable behind me to be relevant, thank you very much. It's one of those things, like how everyone used to tell me I was washed up and my time was over. You're guilty of it, Bates. You're guilty of all this. And you were my example.
Now that I have this gold, though, what am I willing to do to keep it? Well, I tried to grant Oblivion his rematch but got Adam Young instead. You know, since Lerch is just tossing random rematches out there, I thought I'd do the charitable thing and give the King of the Whip Nae Nae what he deserves. But if I did that then I'd have to give Jeff Purse his, Stuart Slane his, and who the hell knows what other boudle would come out of the woodwork asking for a rematch? I'm not content defending against Adam Young. Sure, it was nice to get that defense monkey off my back right out of the gate, but ... shit dude, really? Of course this led to the other dog in this fight to berate me on Twitter, of all things, and consistently insist that I am a 'pussy.' Yes, I am a pussy, if a pussy wants to do what is promised. I won the belt at War, I'm to defend it against the winner of War at One. I was to be in Hellimination, a match I FUCKING CREATED, and I was supposed to help rid WCF of the filth. Zero Tolerance, Sarah Twilight, Eric Price - give me a break. But no, here I am granting two rematches at once. Does this mean if I lose I get put in the One main event? Am I fuckin' guaranteed to have a second One moment? No, of course not, because I'm not part of the problem. I won't beg and plead for a rematch. Not that I'd have to, but in the unlikely case I do lose, then I'll do it graciously. My time isn't up, I am forever the main event. You two fuccbois won't have a chance against Joey Flash anyway.
Typical WCF douchebags though, am I right? Both of you. They're both out there saying all this bullshit like everyone doesn't have eyes and can't see that I have been the best wrestler in this company for almost fifteen years. One undercuts me, the other tries to suck up and then undercut. I have seen it all a million times before. The difference is that before, once I beat the shit out of someone that talked like they, they normally learned their lesson. You have the odd Doc Henry in there, but the rest learned. Hell, most of the time they'd just up and leave. Ellis and Jojo, Hellz Angel, Brad Kane, Matthew Steele, Jonny Fly ... I could go on for days. These are all people that thought they were better than me. I showed them their place, and now where are they? How many of you out there even know who the hell Matthew Steele is? See, that's my point. I've been destroying the competition for longer than Bates and Battle have been wrestling at a high level - and in Battle's case, longer than he's even been ALIVE. Presumably.
And still, we have the song and dance. Even after beating Mikey eXtreme twice. Beatig Danny Anderson into another retirement ... and subsequent return. Again. After I toppled The Mountain in a Deathmatch, these two idiots think they are going to waltz into Helloween and take what is mine. Un-fucking-believable. I'm not going to lose this title until I want to, that's the long and short of it. But Thomas disgusts me the most. I didn't expect total submission, but a little credit would have been nice. When I am beat, I know it. I own it. I congratulate the man who was better than me on that day and I do what I can to get better so that the next time we go battle, the story ends differently. Not Bates though, he's stuck in the old ways of thinking. He wasn't beat, he just didn't win. I'm not greedy, I'm not desperate, and I'm absolutely not selfish. His judo, jujitsu, wing chun, and fencing didn't do shit against the best in the world.
Let me be the first to tell you, Thomas, that you LOST. You were beat by the King of All Wrestlers, and I took your World Championship.
Just like I fuckin' said I would.
I have chosen you to be my new Adam Young.
And now, I'm telling you that you're not going to beat me at Helloween. I understand you're a bit thick headed and your way is the best, but for once in your fucking life, step back and look at the big picture. I faced you in the wrestling ring. With honor. And I smacked you down harder than Chris Brown smacked Rihanna. I attacked you week in and week out because I could. I had to show you exactly who you were dealing with so you wouldn't overlook me. Yet you still did. Smirk on your face, you listed my accomplishments and then said I wasn't good enough anymore. So I came out and put a battering ram through your torso. I threw you from the top rope and showed you that even a small man can do big things. Clearly I didn't do a good enough job. So now, I have to put the fear into you. I could see it in your eye at War, when I was bashing your brains in with everything under the sun, you didn't know this was coming. You had no idea. I showed you exactly what I was going to do to you, and still you ignored me. Well Thomas, you can't ignore me now. I'm in your fucking head and I'm going to do what I please with you. You have your army, I have mine. After Helloween though, none of it will matter. I'm going to do what I said I'd do at War, knock you so far down the ladder, you'll have no choice but to keep playing pattycake with Lilith to keep your spirits high. Give the poor girl her bear back, it's not a game anymore. Just make sure you clean it first, Jared probably got his DNA all over it.
Corey pauses as something catches his eye. Just a flash. But he's clearly spooked by what it was. It's Nikki Venus, and she's holding something in her hands. Corey puts his finger up, the signal to stop rolling. He walks over to Nikki, who hands over what's in her hands.
Nikki Venus
I think you should probably have this now.
It's the photo. THE photo. The one Nikki would point to and entice Creeping Death out of Corey's head. The shadowy figure is gone. Nowhere to be seen.
Nikki Venus
He'll be back. But don't worry. He's yours now.
Corey Black
How do you know this stuff?
Nikki Venus
It's a long story. A story for another time, I think. Hurry up and finish your promo, we have some things to discuss before the match tonight.
Confused but not broken, Corey puts the picture on a nearby table and walks back over to the promo station. The red light comes on again and Corey pauses just for a moment.
Corey Black
I've had some fucked up shit happen in my life. Sparing the details, my childhood was a bit of a mess. There's something inside me that just shouldn't be. So yes, I can relate to Gemini Battle. I know the stuggle going on, I understand who and what he is.
He's a goddamn fuccboi that's about to get murked.
It's 2016 bitch, running your fingers on Twitter and calling a dude a 'pussy' is what every adolescent boy is doing. Me? I walk to the ring, swing my dick around and destroy. Sure, I indulged your nonsense. I came right back at you with the same teenage crap you decided to throw at me, and I did it better, let me say. That's the thing nobody ever could grasp when it comes to Pantheon. What we do and say is calculated. We are masters of the mat and of the mind. I broke you so bad that you lowered yourself to calling me a 'pussy' relentlessly because that's all you fucking have, Battle. You know goddamn well I'm better than you in every single way possible, so when I give you even a small portion of attention after you call me a name, you latched onto it and wouldn't let go. So now, when this pussy drops you on your fucking dome and caves it in with my elbow, you'll feel even less of a man than you normally do.
That's not a gay joke, that's a fuckin' fact. I don't care how many appendages fit in your butthole, you're standing in my way of One and we may as well add one more to the pile when I shove my foot so far inside you I'll wiggle my toes and tickle your nose. You want to make this personal, but for me, it's strictly business. Once I'm through with you, you can fuck right off back to Mars for all I care. You're insignificant in this whole scenario. This fight is about Corey Black and Thomas Bates, Gemini Battle - you just weaseled your way in by crying to daddy Seth about a rematch you didn't even give to Scoutmaster. You may have laid claim to it since you weren't pinned when you lost it, but you discarded your rematch to try to win War. How well did that go for you? Swimmingly, it seems, since Joey Flash has locked in a One Main Event and you're stuck trying to fight for your life once again.
I'm pretty annoyed by you, Gem. I mean I'm glad you tried to win War, because without it, I may not have gotten my World Title match for a while. See, the way things shook out, Thomas was left without a challenger since you tried to be all noble and win War. Enter the master of the mat, Corey fuckin' Black. I didn't plan for it at all, but my oh my, did it work out well. I blew through that Deathmatch tournament and won the whole thing without a single loss. You just blew. I knew damn well that Bates needed a fight and who better than the guy that just went through literal hell? Bates things I planned this out for a year, when in fact, it was just the right place at the right time, all thanks to you, Battle. You fuckin' idiot. So I beat The Mountain, a guy you know you have no chance against since your lips have been attached to his nutsack for years, and instantly you're on the internet campaigning.
"Look at me, I'm Gemini Battle, I got third place, that means I should fight for the World Title."
How about no? Jay Omega deserves a shot before you do, rematch or not. Sit on that for just a second. Two guys walk in and do better than you do. Now one has fucked back off to Mars like you should, and the other is main eventing One. This is the WCF you want, Battle. You want men to come and go, taking your spot from you. It's why Pantheon is here now. To end this. For everyone. I'm not saying you need to choose a side, but you need to see the poetic justice in this. We are here fighting for guys like you. Guys that put the work in and come up short time and time again. You're stll putting the work in. Don't take this as endearment, I'm still going to beat you within an inch of your life, but at least you'll understand the fight.
This shit is right up your alley though, isn't it? It's Halloween year round for ol' clownface. Every single day you're dressing up as something you wish you were - a good professional wrestler. The fantasy of it all is cute. You do try, I'll never take that away from you. You annoyed everyone enough to work yourself into the match, but I'll never respect that. Day in and day out you put on the face paint in hopes you'll be mistaken for Creeping Death and you'll get more cheers from the crowd. It's okay, imitation is the sincerest form of admiration. Either way, this charade has gone on long enough. To establish order in this company, those who oppose must fall. There will be no Genesis or Rebellution, only Pantheon. Only Corey fucking Black. You can accept what's coming to you or you can fight and perish. You've already made your choice. I hope it was the right one for you.
Who knows, maybe whatever the hell you are will be so defeated and broken that Livewire will show his stupid face again too. If at first you don't succeed, free the guy who you're keeping trapped inside you and let him try, right? That's where our similarities end. I can't corrolate my life with yours beyond this point. Let me explain this as clear as possible - Corey Black is Creeping Death and Creeping Death is me. I've beat that monster, and if Livewire was a stronger person, he'd boot Gemini Battle out too. It's clear you'll never be able to get it done now that Pantheon is here, so why keep trying? Why go through all this only to be put back down in random ass six person tag matches? For ONE MORE SHOT at the glory you let slip away from you? Please. You've forever been the guy that was right there and couldn't do it. All of you DRG clowns were that guy. But after Mexico, it's all been different. Without competition, Gemini Battle is one of the best. He's put his work in and he deserves it. That's fine and great, of course you'd want to oust us. Because without us, this is your kingdom. But with us, you're just a jester. The butt of the jokes. You're so fucking basic I bet you come through the curtain looking like 2016's hottest costume, Harley Quinn. You're the never was that happened to grab the crown while the kings were toiling elsewhere. It's easy to be the best when the castle is empty, isn't it?
Well Gemini, the kings have returned.
I suggest bowing down before this King takes your fucking head off.
Grayson Pierce may be dead, but Gemini Battle is heading to the grave plot right beside him.
It's going to take a whole lot more than Thomas Bates or Gemini Battle to take this World Title away from me. Trick 'r' Treat Match or not, these two are just another notch on my belt. Usually I'd end that sentence with "on my way to the top" but fuck me sideways, I'm already the top. I've been the top for fifteen years. Pantheon has been the top for four. The faster 'Team WCF' and my opponents realize this, the faster we can move along and do what we are all here to do. Most are here to make money, fuck bitches and get high.
I'm here to compete. Flat out, no bones about it, I do this for the thrill of the competition. Some douchebag biker makes it personal, I end him. A gay alien wants a second shot at glory, I end him. Whomever else steps up to the plate - I END THEM. This isn't a game anymore. This is balls out warfare, and you're all outgunned. After I knock on all the doors tonight while beating Not-DRG from pillar to post, I'll gladly lift my World Title into the air and invite Pantheon to the ring for a little post-destruction party. This is all for them. It always has been, and always will be. From day one, my involvement with this group has been for the betterment of WCF's future.
Just so happens, WCF's future has always involved me. And it WILL ALWAYS involve me. Try, try as you may, there is no getting rid of Corey Black. Break my elbow? I come back three times stronger. Powerbomb me five times and destroy my brain? Come back three times stronger. Burning Hammer me through my very own throne? I COME BACK. THREE TIMES STRONGER. You cannot kill what is already dead, gentlemen, and I died about twenty-eight years ago. Long gone is the fun-loving child that had no care in the world. That was taken in an instant by a man that has no business doing what he did. What was left in my body was hatred. Anger. Frustration. It manifested as a hyper violent side of me that I wish was never created, something that haunts me to this day, but put the fear into Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle. They can play tough all they want, they've seen that I can do to people. They also know I won't need that to end them. I won't need that at all.
I'm not a hard person to find. Usually in the main event. Probably bashing in a skull much to the crowd's delight. Adding more and more to my legacy every single week. A legacy that will never, and can never be matched. Fifteen years from now, when I win the World Title for the seventh time after losing it two years prior, people will look back on my legendary matches and comment on how tough Torture was. How sound Jayson Price was in the ring. Some nerd smark will mention Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle. He'll push his glasses up his nose and say 'boy, that Trick 'r Treat Match was something else wasnt it?' His friends will shove him in a locker because they know goddamn well this match was not 'something else.' It was just another King of All Wrestlers MASSACRE and nobody wastes their time watching a far superior man make two other insignificant fuccbois scream bloody murder in St. Paul, Minnesota - literally a stone's throw from his home.
It's my time of year. Ghosts and ghouls come out to play. Devils and angels mingle in the streets. People embrace that which scares them the most. Those primal fears that nobody can explain. Spiders, rodents, death, clowns, everything under the sun scares someone. This year, a biker and an alien knock on the door of what scares them - the King. I'll answer it, but instead of candy, I'm handing out Burning Hammers and elbows. No tricks, no treats, only blood and cracked skulls. You can hear the bells tolling in the distance. They're tolling for Thomas Bates. They're tolling for Gemini Battle.
They're tolling for WCF.
Corey looks up and makes eye contact with the director, then nods. The recording stops, and he heads right back to his locker room. Inside, Nikki sits with the picture face down on the table.
Corey Black
Alright, spill it.
Nikki Venus
I've been doing some research on this, and well.. I mean it's kind of clear but this is more possession than anything.
Corey Black
Ya think? Some shit went down recently. It manifested and went after Taylor.
Nikki Venus
Yeah.. it'll do that. When you were kid, you were vunerable. You broke. And the spirit saw a broken child that needed direction.
Corey Black
Direction? He haunts my every waking moment, Nikki, it's not direction.
Nikki Venus
He knew you needed strength and he needed a host. It's simple possession. I've been researching it for years now, but I've just recently believed it. I coaxed it out the very same way a priest would.
Corey Black
I cannot fucking handle this right now. I'll see you later.
Nikki Venus
Corey wait!
He's already out the door. Nikki slumps down into her chair and puts her hands on her head.
Back out at the cabin, Corey sits on the porch, once again looking down at his WCF World Championship. The mud has dried, the ground is no longer a soggy mess. Bright and shiny day with almost no wind at all. The trees are calm, the lake is calm. there's almost nothing happening. All seems right in the world.
That is, until a raindrop hits Corey's arm.
Then another.
Then thunder rumbles from the distance.
Corey stands up and looks around the edge of the house at the lake. A lone boat sits in the middle of it, with a dark shadowy figure standing in the looking back at him.
They maintain eye contact for a long pause. The shadow doesn't move. And nor does Corey.
Until Corey flips it right the fuck off. The figure dissipates into the air, and Corey turns to walk toward his car. WCF World Championship slung over his shoulder.
He's won the battle within himself once again.
Corey can now focus on battling for the WCF World Championship. Thomas Bates and Gemini Battle await him at Helloween. They expect the hyper violent alter ego, but instead they're going to get the determined wrestler.
Some would suggest that is more dangerous. The monster is caged, and the man who beat it roams free. He roams to Helloween.
