#MONSTER

[Wade Moor]

#PartI: Desperation

Controlled breaths set in as Seth Lerch felt a rush of anxiety wash over him like a cold blanket. His fingers dug into the stained mahogany as he bit down on the golden trimming. His legs grew wobbly, though he sat in a cushy leather chair – which he admit, felt good on his bored posterior – that reeked of Skyy Vodka and Pineapple Schnapps. His breathing slowed, his blood pressure descended, he snuggled into the back of his chair.

Placing his hand on the phone, his strength began to return. He flipped through a Rolodex on the edge of his desk, confidently plugging the first digits in and the receiver rang. He hummed a little “Killin In The Name Of” as he waited for the other line to pick up. After a few rings, it went straight to voice mail.

“Dis is dah BobDaddy Cairo ku-ku-kummin' atchoo. Leave me da message at dat POON-SLICK-UH tone...unless dis is dat JOBBUH AZZ Lerch wantin' ol BOBBY SEA to ku-ku-kum back to da DUB. YOO still owe me money BOI, yeah yeah YUH DOO! I ain't teamin' up WIT DAT RIFF RAFF. YOO made da bed, NOW LAY IN IT SEFFREY! #TOOTHICKSKEE”

Seth's heart raced again as Bobby Cairo's message blasted through the phone like an /_RCAAAAAIWOOUTTANOWHYUHHHH. He shot forward in his chair, cracking the tips of his knees against the hard wood. He fell to the ground and faceplanted his phone and it hit number one speed dial. Seth laughed something sinister. He knew, as he rubbed his palms together, he knew he could count on this one. The phone rang only rang once before the other end clicked to life.

“He-hello?” a sloppy drunken voice answered.

“BECKMAN? BECKMAN BABEE, ITS LERCH!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Seth never cried harder in his life.

“FEEL GOOD.”

The other end died as Lerch dry heaved against his triexta carpet. He sullenly glanced towards a discarded remote helicopter and a bag of hot fries on his shelf, reaching out towards them with waning strength. He was fading, fading...and then, his phone rang. UNKNOWN caller. He answered and put the phone to his ear.

“Who is this?” Lerch asked weakly.

“You know who it is, Seth”, the mysterious caller replied, “and you know what's at stake. I want to be a part of Team WCF and rid the company of this scourge, this blight that is Pantheon.”

“Fine.”

“...But in return, I want control of the company.”

“No.”

“Fine, then I at least want a title shot”, the caller pouted.

“No, Pantheon get's title shots.”

“A Mickey Dee's breakfast burrito?” the caller pleaded.

“You'll get Burger King and you'll like it”, Lerch scolded.

“Please, can I at least bring HIM with me? It'll be fun, I swear.”

“Whatever!” Seth yelled as he hung up the phone in a terrible pitch of anger.

And with that, Seth signed the most lopsided match in WCF history. Five of his finest from the midcard talent pool with two people who could barely be used to put over the midcard talent pool against...World Champions. WAR Winners. Legends. Future Hall of Famers. His breathing began to get out of control again and he knew this time in two months that Pantheon would be running the show.

Or maybe, they already were.

#PartII: It's Alive

“Sit down, Rabid. Do you expect perfection all at once?” Jared Holmes asked Johnny Rabid, who was pacing back and forth across the room.

The room was dimly lit, only by floodlights surrounding the circular enclosure and a low fluorescent light hanging above an examination tank. Wade lay suspended in fluids, a metal plate draped up to his bare chest. The color from his skin had begun to fade, looking as if he were in the first stages of rigor. A large scar adorned the left side of his head, just underneath his hair line, stretching all the way to the back of his head.

“All I'm saying is we should be careful with this. It could prove...dangerous”, Rabid replied.

Jared smirked underneath his deep blue 6hark mask he had felt inclined to wear.

“Dangerous? Poor Rabid. Have you never wanted to do anything that was dangerous? Where should we be if nobody tried to find out what lies beyond? Have you never wanted to look beyond the clouds and the stars, or to know what causes the trees to bud? And what changes the darkness into light? If you talk like that, people call you crazy. Well, if I could discover just one of these things, I wouldn’t care if they did think I was crazy.”

Rabid shook his head, crossing his arms behind his back

“You're young, my friend. Success can be intoxicating. We have to face facts, Jared. Wade is a fiend whose brain...”

Jared held his hand up, halting Rabid, and immediately replying.

“Whose brain has been given ample time to develop. It's perfect. He's such a beautiful creature, Rabid, so perfectly damaged. I made him whole again.”

“Jared, in the name of...”

“6od? I know what it feels like to be 6od.”

The two stood in perfect silence for a moment before Rabid convened. He stepped forward, taking helm next to Jared looking over Wade.

“What are you going to do? Raise him into the sky, inject him with hubris energy?”

Jared laughed, gritting his razor sharp teeth as his gaze lowered towards Wade. He held his hand out over the tank and cracked his neck.

“Nothing so dramatic.”

His hand hovered above Wade moving slowly up his chest towards the tip of his head. The tank started to hum and buzz as his Cheshire grin spread ever further. They stood there in that prevailing silence as Rabid watched Jared with piqued curiosity. The clasps along the edge of the tank hissed as they spurt apart and the cover slowly opened. Jared lowered his hand, crossed his arm, and waited. The bubbles coming from his mouth stopped their flow and Jared's jaw clinched. Wade lay still...until his hand shifted and twitched. His eyes wavered and opened, staring through the surface of the fluid.

“You see, it's moving”, Jared said while pointing at Wade, “It's alive.”

#PartIII: KING 239

Weighing gun weight versus recoil of the AK coiled neatly in my fists did little to alleviate the anxiety I felt broiling beneath my chest. It always started with a searing near my shoulder, expanding out to tense every muscle in the adjacent areas. My eyes closed as my head fell back against the seat. I reached into my coat pocket and closed my fingers around a narrow glass tube. I pulled it out and lifted to my lips, crackling the torch lighter underneath and inhaling the thin smoke into my lungs.

The meth felt like ice melting over my brain, washing away any pain, any hate, any regret. It was the only way I could separate myself from what was about to transpire, and everything that entailed. The old school burner car bumped over a curb and under an overpass, rolling down an alleyway after. Through winding roads, the car came to stop outside of a decrepit warehouse district.

Through various plugs and connections, Jared Holmes had found an underground operation in Detroit funded by subsidiaries of Zero Tolerance, Inc. The drug money made from the heroin funded various projects and clean ups, while also cutting down the people who these projects were meant to help. We didn't give a fuck about the people, this was all another power play for Detroit, just another clean sweep for #BeachKrew LLC before our showdown at Helloween.

This mission was important, something Jared would only entrust to someone like me. I was one of two people who was unaffected by the carnage and bloodshed that was sure to follow, the other one sitting next to me with a “Z” emblazoned balaclava pulled down over his face. I watched his greasy lips sneer through the mouth of the helmet, his yellowing teeth snarling behind them. He turned to me, AK hanging off his thick as he raised his pinky to his nostril, taking the bump of coke from his nail straight to the brain.

We opened the doors to the car and stepped out, our boots crunching the dirt below our feet. We marched towards the warehouse we knew they were located in and stopped outside the door. ZMAC pulled a flashbang grenade from the pocket of his denim shorts and pulled the pin with his teeth. I kicked open the door and Z hurled the payload through the freshly formed hole in the wall. A few pierce shrills from inside as the piece popped and blinded everyone inside.

We stepped through the door and a man in the back of the room pulled a gun from his leather coat. I didn't waste any time, putting two bursts in to his chest and he fell a crumpled heap to the ground. Z popped off two shots to his right, killing two more guards stationed. Shots rang out throughout the warehouse as Z and I did battle with several armed men. We took out several, shots ricocheting around our heads as we returned even more fire.

The clip for my AK ran dry, so I whipped it behind my back and pulled the pair of 1911's out from inside my coat. I opened fire on the rest of the stunned guards and put them out of their misery. Gun smoke flowed throughout the warehouse as we walked through it, coming up on a group of six men and one women. They had their hands held up in surrender, waving the proverbial white flag before punishment was brought down upon them.

Though reckoning would still be wrought. There is no escaping it, listen up.

“This is pretty convenient isn't it, Z?” I asked, “Everything lined up perfectly, if you ask me. Go on, get on your knees and bow.”

Most of them buckled immediately, feeling fear finally creeping up into their hearts. They believed they were untouchable, though nothing rises without a heavy fall back down to reality. A few of them refused to kneel, but ZMAC corrected that in time. He hit two on the back with his rifle and aimed it at them. They looked up, defeated, hands behind their heads as ZMAC whips them to their knees.

“Are we having fun yet? BOI, do I have a feeling we're getting close.”

The seven of them all looked to me confused. In my meth fueled haze, they appeared to me as my opponents at Slam. Their faces warped, the light spilling in through the windows high on the wall played off of their gazes. I reached around my back and pulled out a long, wooden bludgeon, the tip wrapped in barbed wire, kneeling down at the one front and center of the group.

“Hi, you're Adrian right? I'm Wade.”

“What are you talking about man?” 'Adrian' asked.

“I don't appreciate you sullying the WSeaF. No I don't. That shit is not cool, you how no idea how not cool that shit is, but I have a feeling you're going to be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You're going to regret coming to the WSeaF in a few minutes.”

I stand up and take a few steps back, pacing back and forth around the group knealt down.

“You see, no matter what you do, you don't mess with the new world order. The new world order is Pantheon, it's really very simple, and even if you're stupid which you all very well may be, you can understand that. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention.”

I swing the bludgeon in close to their faces as I point at each and every one of them.

“Your belts belong to us now. These last three weeks have been career day people. We invested a lot, put a lot of work in just so you would know who we are and what we can do. Now, you belong to us. You have belts, you give them to us. That's your job. Now, I know this is a mighty big nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will. I know you ruled the roost, built something for yourselves, thought you were safe. But the word is out, you're not safe. Not even close.

“You see, you all walk around this federation perpetuating something fierce with Zero Facts and Zero Talent to back up what you're saying, and yet you have what I want. And what I want is your belts. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. If I knock on that door, you answer it. I own that door. You try to stop me, and I will knock it down. You understand?”

He waits for a reply from any one of the group.

“I didn't want to do this to you people, truly I didn't, but you really didn't think you were going to make it through this without getting punished, did you? You overstepped your bounds, that was quite clear. You forgot your place, became too big for yourselves. You desire power but power is only measured by that hand that holds it, and now and forever that will be me...so now, I'm going to show you what real power is. I'm going to select which title I'm going for after we beat the holy hell out of you in the Hellimination Match. But which one of you is going to do the honors of feeding me my next illustrious title reign in the WSeaF? Who to pick, who to pick...

“Maybe Rabid, Holmes, and I will go after the Trio's Championship belts. I mean, it makes sense, right? Three of the most dominant men to ever step foot in a ring, and we're all on the same team? Who could stand up to that? Adrian Archer? Salem Shepard or Jason Cash? I'd murk all three of them on straight up principle, and that's a fact, but they have something I want and that's not good for them either. You think those three would have a chance at stopping us? Find out Sunday as we scrape the ring mat with their skulls, show them what fresh hell looks like.

“Oh, but maybe...maybe the answer doesn't lie in the ZT Three, but perhaps the lone wolf? The hardcore one his damn self, Old Crazy J? That...would be almost too easy. Like picking on somebody with a mental disability, extremely satisfying but empty. A hollow victory...but if you're looking for somebody to teach you the true meaning of HORRORKORE, you'll get yourself a sample when we meet in the ring, J. I've been looking forward to this one for a while, I really have.

“Twilight...Price. The only title I could take from the two of you is “Total Fucking Shit” because that's about how much value your names hold in the WSeaF at present standing. Pantheon returned and rocked the federation down to it's very core. Everything you ever believed to be possible or impossible immediately shifted. When you two made your “glorious” return, the crowd went dead. They were tweeting 'who the fukk r theez gobshites lmao' before wondering why we were put in handcuffs and not allowed to beat the fuck out of you right then and there.

“Maybe, just maybe, they could have put somebody worthwhile to stand up against the 'invaders', the 'cancer', of WseaF...but the fact of the matter is, we are the only ones worthwhile. They scraped as far down the barrel as they could to put together this Team WCF. I haven't seen a match so lopsided since I mollywhopped Gemini Battle's ass at One last year. That's what this is, a ritual killing. I'm going to have fun on Sunday, I am, but before then, I'm going to have to settle with verbally murdering and metaphorically murdering you in front of the entire world.

“Adrian Archer, I've never seen somebody so pathetic in my entire life, truly I haven't. You sound like somebody who bolsters his chest, keeps a stiff upper lip, until you're in the face of true adversity. Then you split and piss your pants in the corner like a child. In fact, I can guarantee that's the type of person you are. I see it when I look into your quaffed hair, your brilliant blue eyes, your chiseled jaw line...I can see how big of a coward you actually are.

“What do you see when you look at me? You can't grasp a tangible thought so you just go with what your eyes perceive, but eyes do deceive. You knew I had a match with Scarecrow, but the entire world knew of that match. It was the shot that rang around the world, the most controversial moment in WSeaF's recent history...when the Crow plummeted fifty feet to his death in the middle of the ring. Of course, like most cockroaches, he didn't actually die. He scurried under the dirt to live in his rat hole, to fight another day.

“That was one time I was effectively cucked by this world, and I'm sure it won't be the last, but your life has been plagued by failure after miserable failure. Name one thing you've done without the help of your teammates? I have a proverbial laundry list of items, but you can't even name one. That...that's the story of your life Adrian. You're about to find out the hard way Sunday. I'm going to scramble your brain at Helloween, then you can scurry back to your rat hole to live out the rest of your days in peace you Insignificant Bastard.

“What about you Damian Kaine? After the absolutely embarrassing beating I gave you at Slam last week, I'm surprised you didn't have your mom call the office to tell us you weren't going to make it to Helloween. Have you finally realized that you're in the ring with men, now? This isn't your backyard anymore, Damian, people don't get hurt on accident in the WSeaF. I will lift you off the ground by your throat and break your back on my knee just as easily.

“I'm telling you Kaine, this isn't a match you want nor need. Run away while you still have a chance. What stake do you have in this, Damian? A notch on your belt? I'm telling you, you can't get that just as easily somewhere else with ten percent of the risk you're taking here. You didn't think it was a little suspicious that Seth chose YOU as co-captain? That didn't immediately ring a bell you worm? What talent slash achievements do you have that screams worthy leader?

“If you're thinking absolutely none, then you have the right answer, and if you think you have them all, you're wrong and your name is probably Damian Kaine. Please, I'm begging you, stay away. You're still young. You still have so much to live for. Your friends. Your family. Your Brotherhood. Don't get involved in something you have no business being in...everyone who cares is going to miss you when you're gone.

“And then we have the rest of the ZT collective, this mass of Zero Talent clowns. You know, when the news reports said there were clowns terrorizing the streets, I immediately chuckled because I just said to myself it's those worthless ZT guys out for a night of borderline homosexual debauchery and light faire. You know what I find funny about the three of you? The fact that none of you has the slightest clue of what you're in for on Sunday.

“You're so clueless and wrapped up in how great you are that you forget you actually aren't. Everything you're doing, it's been done before and by men far more talented than yourselves (see: Zero Talent) so you're a carbon copy of a carbon copy that was never that strong to begin with. Don't claim to be something you're not when the proof is staring you right in the face.

“How can you claim to be better than us when you literally do the exact same thing we do, yet worse? Drug addictions? Got em. Porn addiction? Sunday morning, baby. Fucked up childhood? ELL EM AYE OHHH, don't make me laugh. I could go on and on, but that would just be beating a dead horse now. Sounds fun, but really just a waste of my time, and time is precious, you know? We only have so much time in this world, best we shouldn't.

“So when the bell rings and the match is over Sunday, really who do you see standing victorious in the ring at the end of the night? Be real, now. You're only lying to yourself at this point. It's not going to be the throwaway facepainted jokes and their inbred hick friend, it's going to be the men who have made waves through the system. The ones who courted controversy and made it their bitch. The ones who actually have the talent needed to back up boisterous claims. This is going to be a one sided murder, and you're going to see just how outweighed you are when you feel our entrance. You're going to see where ZT really resides in the talent pool, and maybe even the gene pool.

“Hell, maybe you could use those billions to buy a trailer park. You might have a better chance of ruling the roost. King Double Wides. Now get the fuck out of my federation you stupid fucking bums.”

Wade stretched his arms out and cracked his neck, feeling his oats now.

“Trust me when I say this next mans return went over like a wet fucking noodle, Eric Price, what fucking roach motel did they pick you up out of? Have you been waiting in the wings for an chance like this? To have one more shot at fading glory? People want to call us the 'old timers' moving in on the “New Errrr's” opportunity, but they haven't met Eric Price yet. This is the same guy that had to run the company to afford himself shots that he otherwise couldn't earn on his own. You know what I did when I ran this place? I fucking smoked meth and bastardized Oblivion because that was funny to me.

“Price, you sack of shit, what the fuck are you even doing here? Really? Are you really that cucked by Twilight that you came out of WSeaF retirement to get your shit kicked in? Damn, Twilight has you by the short hairs bruh. She's not even that smoking, I give her pooper a three out of ten, at least, and that's being generous man. Here's a piece of advice...go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I don't know if you've been keeping up here lately, but this isn't your pappy's Pantheon. This isn't the same stable you fought so many years ago.

“Don't even get me started on Twilight. Are you back for a routine embarrassment? Maybe that will be #BeachKrew's new gimmick, still more successful than you'll ever be. You're the best that never will be, Twilight. The fact that Team WCF allowed you to join speaks volumes of their stupidity. I'm predicting a mid match Twilight orchestrated walk out, talking about how that was her plan all along ELL OH ELL.

“Fuck me, Twilight, you know. You're somebody that maybe I could have respected. A real cut throat bitch who would kill for what she wanted, now you realized the days of actually seeming talented by comparison are long gone, so now you have to try to win the crowd's sympathy or some other nonsense. If they're as stupid as you, they might buy into it...but I see right through your bullshit, Sarah. Bird's of a feather, right?

“Once a thief, always a thief, but you won't be stealing the victory at Helloween. This isn't a match you can win, so you'll run, you'll make excuses, but everyone will see that you were actually just too frightened to step in the ring with men that are truly better than you in every facet of the phrase. This is going to end terribly for you, Twilight, and if you want a piece of me after that, you know where to find me. I'll do cock pushups off your temple while I smash a plate of coffee cakes. Fuck you.”

I return back to the room off that almost spiritual shoot rolling off my lizard tongue.

“Now back to the matter at hand, which one of you is going to get it after Helloween? Who's losing their title to Wade Moor, and trust me when I say you're going to lose. Is it going to be you, ZT? J? FPV? Cap?”

I start pointing the bat at the men kneeling over, their faces turning to effigy of the men who hold the belts in WSeaF. Their faces wish and wash away, replaced by thousands more, until it stops on one, roullette style.

“Ohhh, J...I've been waiting for this for a while now. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry...hell, you're all going to be doing a lot of that!”

I bring the bat down on his head, splitting his worthles noggin right down the middle.

“OH SHIT! TAKING IT LIKE A CHAMP!”

I smash his teeth in with the edge of the bludgeon as his blood sprays the ground. As I destroyed the mans head, I looked ahead towards Sunday. This is it for you, Team WCF.

#FUCKINGBOWDOWN