Post by Corey Black on Jan 13, 2017 14:09:42 GMT -5
Within the stone walls of Dethfort lie a King like no other. A King that has shown the world time after time that hard work, patience, perseverance and above all – skill – shall reign supreme in a legendary wrestling company. Corey Black has transcended generations. In a few short years, it would be legal for him to step into the ring with a man that wasn’t yet born when Corey first laced a pair of boots. Countless people have attempted to put this man out of the business, yet he stands tall. He is going out on his own terms at the end of this very year. Along the way, he has a Retirement Tour set up to battle wrestlers he deems worthy of the fight. Some just want to fight him to say they beat the King, but others are hand picked successors to the throne. The group known throughout the land as Pantheon are those men. The very souls that will lead WCF into the future. A future without Corey Black.
Corey sits alone in his bedroom inside his castle, a monument to his time in WCF. Who else but Odin Balfore could get a castle? Main event paychecks for fifteen years will do that. Alas, it gets lonely in Denmark all alone. Sure, Corey’s new best friend in the world lives right across the street, but let’s face it – Corey and Odin are very different people. Do you think Corey could invite Odin over to play GTA? I don’t think so either. And so, the King of All Wrestlers sits alone in his purple-clad bedroom, just contemplating life. XIII is right around the corner, Rise Up and then the pay-per-view season is off to the races. Corey stands up from sitting on his bed, walking over to his accomplishments display. Replicas of all the titles he has won, the awards, the trophies, and a picture of Pantheon framed. Signed by all the members but one. There’s no signature next to Jeff Purse’s image. Corey sighs and shakes his head. He knows Jeff doesn’t see what he has done all this time. Jeff thinks he was a good friend. He did the best he could.
Corey walks out into the hallway now, the stone pattern looks mesmerizing. The architecture in this place is astounding, almost all original. Through the hallway and into his living room, then another doorway which leads to stairs going down into darkness. The Danish Dungeon, as it’s been referred to as. A dirt floor with most of the amenities one would need to train to be a pro wrestler. There’s primitive gym equipment, there’s a ring, and there’s a station in the corner with a television to watch matches. This has been Corey’s base of operation for years now. When he isn’t training new recruits in the WCF Performance Center in Pennsylvania, he’s here, in the dark and dirty basement of an old Danish castle. About as pure as you can get. He’s not on the beach in California pumping iron with all the jocks at Muscle Beach. Instead of iron weights, there’s various sizes of stone and logs. When it comes to wrestling, Corey Black is as old school as it gets. Fundamentals are key. Speed, timing, precision. The wrestler he is going against in Minneapolis is the very same. Fifteen years in the ring, though, you can’t train for that. There’s no training in the universe that can prepare anyone for the wealth of knowledge Corey Black holds within his brain. Counters for counters for counters. Jeff Purse has been in the Dungeon, he knows what happens in this place, and he still accepted the offer to battle the King of All Wrestlers at XIII.
Hell, he may as well have suggested it.
If these walls and objects could talk, they’d never stop with all the stories they’d have. The mechanism that swings the dummy down from the ceiling could go on for days about how Corey reacts quicker than anyone. His elbows are more dangerous than a baseball bat. His aggression is unmatched. The ring could speak on the quickness, the agility and the focus. The European Pantheon Meeting Room would give details on all the masterful plans laid out inside it, and complain about all the coffee cake crumbs left on its floor. But even with all the stories it could tell, there would be one it couldn’t speak of.
Dethfort couldn’t ever claim to be HOME.
Corey turns and heads back up his stairs, into the living room and then back to his bedroom. He grabs a bag from his closet and begins putting clothes into it. The journey to Minneapolis is long, but he's done it multiple times. Couple of shirts, couple of pants, ring gear and he stops. He looks at the set-up of all his belts and awards. Corey smiles, that half-mouthed dickhead smile.
Minneapolis, Minnesota. Home. A place with a rich cultural history. Legends of music, sports, business and government have called this place home. A small wrestling show, one that draws fans to the city from across the glove, has emanated from this place a few times before. The first time it will take place in a venue with such history as First Avenue, though, will be today. One thousand five hundred fans will pack into the smaller building to watch men battle for supremacy. With no titles on the line, pride is the only thing worth fighting for. In the main event, two former friends will collide to prove to eachother once and for all which one of them is the best. One, a decorated Champion and well-liked family man. The other is known as the “King of all Wrestlers.” Are you ready?… for XIII!
It’s cold up in Minnesota nowadays. Winter is in full effect, snow and ice line the streets. That doesn’t stop a crowd of fans from lining up around the corner at First Avenue hours before XIII even starts. Even as a bit of snow begins to fall, they stay strong, waiting to get in and see their favorite wrestlers in action. It’s mid-afternoon at this point, the sun is out, and yet the wind is just bitter enough to send shivers down the spine of even the burliest biker in line. Women huddle next to their men, shivering and trying to stay warm. All of that goes out the window when, out from the front doors, walks Corey Black. Everyone in line turns and begins cheering, Corey bows and high fives the first few people in line. He’s not exactly bundled up, wearing just a black hoodie and jeans, but Corey takes the time to go down the line and either high five or shake the hand of every last person standing there waiting to get in. As he gets around the corner, the last few people are greeted, and Corey says his goodbyes before heading back into the venue through the guarded back door.
Through the hallway and into his dressing room, Corey sits down across from Nikki Venus and Taylor Swift who are comparing outfits. They’re both dressed casually at the moment, but there’s three dresses each laid out on the table. They’re pointing and holding them up to themselves.
Corey Black
I’m glad you two are getting along now.
Taylor Swift
Yeah, now that this one knows better than to try to lure your little buddy out.
Nikki Venus
Now what’s that supposed to mean?!
Corey laughs a bit, Nikki turns red and Taylor smiles.
Taylor Swift
He who shall not be named, Nikki. Not the actual little buddy.
Corey Black
I’ve been meaning to ask you two about that..
Nikki Venus
You’re not riding the tricycle.
Corey Black
Wouldn’t that make things a lot easier?
Taylor Swift
No. Uh.. no. Maybe?
Nikki Venus
Oh Christ you too now?
Nikki playfully pushes Taylor, making her wobble on those long legs.
Taylor Swift
The tension is there and you know it.
Corey sits back in his chair, knowing full well what he has done to these two ladies.
Taylor Swift
We’ve never even really defined what our relationship is yet.
Nikki Venus
I’ll define it – y’all fuckin’ and it’s ridiculous.
Taylor and Corey both sit there stunned. Corey goes to speak but Taylor gets the words in just a beat before he does.
Taylor Swift
Who said that?!
Nikki Venus
Shut up, I’m not stupid and neither is the entire world. A popstar princess wouldn’t agree to read names and weights of sweaty, gross men if she wasn’t there on a favor.
Taylor Swift
That’s just not true! I’d be here either way.
Nikki Venus
HA so you admit it.
Corey is just sitting there, laughing to himself. A few months ago this would have ended in a brawl. Well, it still might.
Taylor Swift
Oh whatever, what should we wear? We should coordinate and leave Flash out of it so he looks like a dork.
Nikki Venus
Now you’re speaking my language.
The ladies turn their attention back to their outfits, while Corey unzips his gear bag. He pulls out every piece of his gear, all clad in black, and lays them down carefully on the floor. This is a ritual unlike any other. Corey’s gear is an extension of his own body. Every wrestler should feel this way, but Corey more so. His boots are crafted specifically to crush Jeff Purse’s bones. His elbow pads protect only his own elbows from the punishment he intends to give out later on tonight. Taylor and Nikki know better than to bother him at this point in time, it’s psyche up minute. A knock at the door just as Corey breaks out of his ritual, and a stagehand comes in.
Stagehand
Corey, we have a bit of an issue. It’s getting too cold for those people to stand outside. Should we let them in early?
Corey Black
Well, of course we should. But what do we do to entertain them?
Nikki Venus
Go out there and do a ventriloquist act, Jeff Purse would do it.
Taylor Swift
Yeah, use your bag and call it Father Baggy Zipdrews.
Stagehand
Please don’t, these people out here are insane. It may as well be a Megadeth concert.
Corey Black
Oh Taylor, I’m so sorry. You’re out of your element.
Taylor Swift
I did fine at The Myth, I’ll be fine here.
Corey sits back in his chair and looks at his phone. An idea pops into his head.
Corey Black
Does the computer that runs the video screen have internet access?
Stagehand
I think it does, yeah!
Corey Black
Let the people in. Trust me.
The stagehand nods and runs off, Corey stands up and nods to the ladies before heading out the door. He goes toward the ring, but turns at the stage, typing away at a computer. People are filing in., and soon it stops. The place is full. Shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, a lake of humanity. I’d say sea but this place is too small for that. The screen on the stage lights up to a Google Chrome browser. The crowd is quite confused, but they go along with it.
Crowd
GOO-GLE CHROME! GOO-GLE CHROME! GOO-GLE CHROME!
Behind the curtain, Corey begins laughing to himself again. Ridiculous chant. He types in Amazon.com. You guessed it.
Crowd
LET’S GO AMAZON! Clap clap clapclapclap LET’S GO AMAZON! Clap clap clapclapclap
Corey tries to quickly click on videos, and then to a movie. The crowd cheers and roars even louder as Corey dusts his hands off and walks back to his locker room. Taylor and Nikki are half naked, getting dressed. He stops and closes the door quickly, shielding his eyes.
Nikki Venus
Oh whatever, it’s fine, how’s it look out there?
Corey Black
Well, everybody is inside now, and they’re watching a movie.
Taylor Swift
Seriously? A movie?
Corey Black
Friday the 13th, my dear.
Taylor Swift
Of course it is. That’ll keep them occupied for a few hours.
Corey Black
Amazon has all of them. They can be occupied until the show starts!
Nikki Venus
Hey, whatever works man. How’s your new neighbor?
Corey Black
Alright, I suppose. It’s just weird having him across the street, you know?
Taylor Swift
Oh no, who is it?
Corey Black
Odin.
Taylor drops her shoe. And hew jaw. And her eyes widen, too.
Taylor Swift
That’s going to be an awkward pie to bake. ‘Welcome to the neighborhood, Odin, I baked you this goat’s blood pie!’
Corey Black
He’d probably dig it.
Taylor Swift
I’m not baking him a goat’s blood pie.
Nikki Venus
I’ll do it. That would be fun. We can all walk down into the village and get a goat this weekend.
Corey and Taylor are taken aback. Confusion comes over their faces.
Nikki Venus
What? I thought I made it clear I was going home with you. Just make it through Jeff Purse.
Corey Black
Hold up, are you Ja Ruling me?
Nikki Venus
Ja what?
Corey Black
Second Fast and Furious movie, this chick told Ja Rule if he lost he’d get her, but if he won, he’d get her and her friend. Ja Ruling.
In the background, Taylor Swift is laughing near uncontrollably.
Nikki Venus
No, I’m telling you WHEN you get out there and WHEN you destroy Jeff Purse, we’re all going back to Denmark for the weekend. I’ll make Odin’s pie and whatever else happens – happens.
Corey Black
Can we just forget the pie? The goat’s blood one?
Nikki Venus
I guess, if you insist.
Corey Black
Yeah, I do.
An awkward silence comes over the room. What the hell do you say at this point? Taylor knows.
Taylor Swift
Do I have to watch out again? Last time this happened, I was dragged into the ring and used as bait. I’d prefer not having that happen again.
Corey Black
You should be fine, Orbit thinks women are objects, Jeff is very well mannered when it comes to the ladies. He won’t lay a hand on you. That, and he knows if he did, I’d end him that second. More the former, though.
Nikki Venus
So if he’s such a nice guy, why fight him?
Corey Black
Because I have to. See, this Retirement Tour is about two things. Challenging myself, and tying up some loose ends. Jeff Purse is one of those loose ends that never got tied. He said some things about me that were not true, some stuff that was true that shouldn’t have ever left his mouth, and acted in a way that was disrespectful to me and the company as a whole. Ever since I joined Pantheon, there was something about him that was just off. He didn’t like the fact that I came into the group already established. But to my face, he was all happy go lucky. He’s a two-faced twat and I intend on slapping both of those faces right off his head tonight.
Nikki Venus
Jeff is why I think we should match and leave Joey out, Taylor. He’s got OCD bad. So if two of the ring announcers match and the last is out of place, it’s going to drive him fucking nuts. Also any reason to make the Champ look like a dork.
Taylor Swift
Ooooh, you’re cunning. I like that.
Corey Black
I appreciate the thought, but I won’t be needing any underhanded tricks this time. I’ve got this. There’s no endless stream of rematches for Jeff, it’s one and done. He won’t be beating me.
Corey sits down in the chair he was in earlier, looking down upon his gear once again. The ladies put the finishing touches on their outfits and head out the door to get with production about ear pieces, microphones and headphones, leaving Corey all alone finally. Soon after, the stagehand bursts into Corey’s locker room.
Stagehand
They’re chanting for you. The movie is almost over and they won’t stop.
Corey Black
My people, man. I’ll be there shortly.
Stagehand nods and leaves, Corey not far behind him. He heads right for the stage, and the credits are rolling. The stagehand fades the screen out and Corey Black steps out to overlook the crowd. They go ape shit. They’re chanting like four different things. The stagehand hands Corey a microphone, and he hushes the crowd.
Corey Black
Who the fuck is hyped for XIII?!
Later on tonight, you'll see some of the best wrestling on this planet. Matches you'd never see on Slam. An all female battle royal that is sure to put women's wrestling back on the map in WCF. The Age of Ultron Match debuts tonight, finally. Andre came to me with this idea for last year's show, but we all know what happened there, so we went with it again this round. A real chance for some of the lower-tier guys to show their stuff and get noticed, including hometown boy Dion! After that, a proposed Television Title Match which is now just a regular old singles contest, Mr. FPV goes one on one with Jared Holmes! There’s a bit of bad blood brewing there. Absolutely an amazing contest. Following that, it’s the return of Nathan Von Liebert as he battles Kevin Bishop. That match may intrigue me the most on the card, to be honest. Those two guys are so similar. It’ll be a blockbuster, and you’ll only see it at XIII. Another return tonight, as Alex Richards comes home to fight Johnny Rabid in what could be a pay=per-view main event battle across the globe. Violence will be personified as Odin Balfore, my new neighbor, fights Wade Moor in a clash of former WCF World Champions. There will be blood. David Sanchez, riding high after kicking my ass and the ass of basically everyone else to win Final Destination, heads even further up the card as he attempts to topple Gravedigger! Torture is back tonight, he’s got some choice words for some piece of shit named Seth. And in your main event, I will take the head of Jeff Purse and present it to you, my people, as an offering.
So, why Jeff Purse? Of all the people I could have chosen to fight me at XIII, why is it that I picked the most basic bitch to ever walk the halls of WCF? Simple. He’s the last one. He’s the final member of the Pantheon that made waves. I’ve beat Jay Price, I’ve beat Steve Orbit and Jonny Fly, the only guy left is Jeff. It works out well, he’s been the most vocal about me reforming the group without him, leaving him with literally nothing. Without Pantheon, I’m King of the Deathmatch and WCF World Champion. Without Pantheon, Jeff Purse is cannon fodder for multiple-man tag team matches. The definition of “clusterfuck tag” will have a link to Jeff Purse’s profile. So, it’s obvious why this fuccboi was so butthurt when the greatest version of Pantheon ever hit the scene at War. When you list out the members of Pantheon, you get to Johnny Reb and then Jeff Purse is the last, forgotten piece of shit. Jeff Purse, the black sheep of Pantheon. The guy everyone knew was around, but barely cared about. He’d show up for a meeting, go home, have a fit with his wife and come into Slam distracted. All the talent in the world, unlimited upside, zero drive to get it done. Made buddies with Kid Phantasm and Jonny Fly, formed Pantheon, and did diddly fuck with it. You know who is doing something with their invitation to join Earth’s Mightiest Wrestling Stable? Me. The dude that joined up to help the long-gone douchebags like Purse, Fly, Orbit and Phantasm. I did what Bobby Cairo could never do, I turned two men into Legends, one into a whiny little bitch, and just forgot about Jeff Purse. I went on to reform the group and push Jay Omega to the fucking stratosphere. Alex Richards, while not in WCF, is becoming a legend in his own right. You were there, you saw first hand what I can do with young minds to mold. Joey Flash is the WCF World Champion, #Beachkrew are Trios Champions, and where does Jeff Purse fall in all this? I can just hear it now. ‘Wah wah Corey, you’re not Pantheon, you weren’t ever supposed to be a part of the group, but when you were I pretended to be the best friend you ever had while secretly being so jealous of your success I got your face tattooed on my ass, pay attention to me I’m Jeff Purse!’
Jeff Purse isn’t even a part-timer. He’s a two-timer-in-five-yearser, if that. I’m being generous in the praise.
Remember when Jeff Purse won almost every title WCF has to offer or did the impossible and won War, at the same time winning the World Title? Of course you don’t, because you only remember Jeff Purse winning the belt from Oblivion, then losing it three weeks later to Stuart Slane. That’s it. That is the legacy of Jeff Purse. He’s not a Pantheon member, he’s not a great World Champion, he’s a guy that won the belt when it was getting passed around. He’s not a legend. He won’t be in the Hall of Fame. He’s a friggin’ OCD wackjob that plays with puppets and gets hit by cars. “Hey guys I’ll be back September 11th!” Fucking crickets. September 11th rolls around, no Jeff Purse, and nobody batted an eye. What happened when you finally made your return, huh? Jack shit, that’s right. You weren’t even tagged into the match. Then you walked into War, had yourself some coffee, and got eliminated in about a minute. What was I doing at War, you ask? Oh just toppling a Mountain and taking what is mine, no big deal. Don’t mind me, just continuing to cement my place in WCF history. Cling on to Cryogenix like it were Pantheon, try to make your useless life matter. Pretend like you’re some revolutionary force within the company instead of a footnote in my career. You showed up in December of 2011 and had all the upside in the world. Only to squander every single opportunity given to you. Most of your big matches and big chances gone out the window for one reason or another. You’re not a closer at all. You can’t get the job done when it needs to. It’s a miracle I even let you stay in Pantheon. My stable. Yeah, that’s right, it’s mine. You may have been a pillar, but I own the deed to the building. “Hashtag Not Pantheon! Hashtag Not Pantheon! None of the four original members are in the group, I know Beachkrew when I see them!” Shut the fuck up, Purse, Jesus. Who doesn’t count in that statement? I count five original members. Not to split hairs, but you’re the one that has counted the least. We’d go get you drunk in Germany before I had a big match and all you wanted to do was talk about you and finger your puppet Father Terry Andrews. It was always Jeff Jeff Jeff Kari Kari Kari. Nobody else. You didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s problems but your own. And that’s why you’re a selfish prick. That’s why I didn’t invite you back into Pantheon, you weren’t ever a good fit in the first place. As soon as I said yes, the group was mine, whether you or Polar or anyone likes it or not. I’ve been a central part of this machine for its entire life, and it’ll continue on long after I am dead. Pantheon is above you, Jeff. It’s above you, above Polar, above all of you. Thanks for creating the mold, you’re welcome for filling it so well. You can’t ask a King to join a court and not expect him to take it over, plebs. So once I vanquish you, Jeff, you can stop meandering about and dropping buzz words all over the place like anybody will get you trending on Twitter. You can move along with your pathetic existence and try to put your best years behind you. The years I was there to show you the way.
Look at me, Jeff. I went seven for seven in Deathmatches through last year. Seven fucking wins, man. I won more matches in a week pan than you have in the last two years combined. I beat guys like Odin Balfore, Mikey eXtreme and Thomas Bates. You beat Oblivion. Wow. Fire up the oven and bake Jeff Purse a victory cake, because he pulled off the biggest win of his life! Don’t get me wrong, you were World Champion in 2016 – that’s sort of impressive. Except who you won it from, and the circumstances, and the outcome, and all of it rolled into one. Whereas I had to be fucked out of it because of politics and the Konami Code giving a douchebag thirty rematches. Where’s the video of you washing your hands and demanding Joey Flash put the World Title on the line against you since you didn’t get a rematch? Nowhere, because you didn’t earn the right to fight for it in the first place! You got ham-fisted into a tournament and were lucky enough to have the cards fall in your favor. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Some fuccboi decided to close the place down for half the month, and when it came back, there were zero main eventers. Enter Oblivion, Jeff Purse, Stuart Slane, Gemini Battle and Thomas Bates. The saviors of the new generation, who are now little more than afterthoughts. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’ve seen this place change more times than I care to count. Because I have been here through thick and thin. I saw the golden era, I saw the beginning, I’ll see the end. Jeff Purse, you’re lucky to see Saturday.
If you weren’t your own favorite wrestler, I wouldn’t feel the need to destroy you. That’s the thing about you, you always hype yourself up to be some amazing in-ring talent, and then when the going gets tough, you hit the bricks. You’re not here to help anybody but yourself. As long as your paycheck comes in the mail, it doesn’t matter who you have to step on to get it. Family man my ass, I’ve bred more World Champions than you can count. I give back to this company I love because it is mine. WCF is mine, Pantheon is mine, the World Title is mine, and you sure as fuck are mine come Friday night, boy. You can run back to California, do your couples counseling with Kari and spend time with the baby. Little Patrick, forever screwed in life because whenever life gets too hard, Daddy is going to leave since he can’t handle pressure. I want to be there for Patty, the kid needs a positive male in his life. Someone he can look up to. A King among Kings, Uncle Corey Black. I’ll show the kid how to be successful in life, you can be the example I use when I tell him how it can be out there in the real world if you’re a punk ass bitch.
That’s your calling card. Whenever you’re threatened, you ghost WCF for weeks, months, whatever. That’s why I’m so surprised you signed on the dotted line to fight me in Minneapolis. You’re leaving your OCD comfort zone and heading face first into an onslaught of Corey Black fans. One thousand strong, standing up and cheering me every time my elbow makes contact, and booing you if you even get in a punch. Can you handle that kind of environment? I don’t think you can. Steve Orbit couldn’t and he’s seven times the man you are. He dropped me fifteen feet down to the ring and couldn’t get it done. What can you do in this situation what I haven’t already been through? What kind of tricks does Jeff Purse really have that would throw me off my game so much that he could possibly have a chance to win this thing? A fucking superkick? Everyone and their mother does a superkick you pleb, yours is only special because you gave it a fancy name. Cliché as all get out, Jeffy boy. You don’t have the balls to come to my level. You don’t have the skill either, but if you just had what it takes to be a man for once in your life, you’d put on a good show for my fans that will be watching with baited breath. They’ll hope for a good match, but I will have to disappoint them with a massacre instead. They’ll still cheer. They’ll be happy to see your blood spill onto the black mat. The rabid fan base will chant my name as I knock you into unconsciousness. Pantheon will clink their drinks together in the back and howl with laughter as the remaining stain on the name will be washed out completely.
A Mountain with armor didn’t faze me. A lanky white boy with frosted tips sure won’t either. N’Sync from 1999 called, they want their style back. Nice ring tights.. affordable? You look more like a boy band member than you do a pro wrestler. I’m the smallest guy around, but I still look more intimidating than you do. Surely you have plenty of time to hit the gym when you’re dodging big matches constantly. Maybe you can take this payday you’re getting from me and get a Snap Fitness membership. That way you can work out with all the other soccer moms in your town and set up tea times.
But let’s assume you can make it out to the ring even in the sea of black t-shirts. I’ll pretend for a second that you actually do have a chance in this match. Somehow The Spoke can put the King of All Wrestlers on his back. Jeff Purse does show enough heart to stand toe to toe with Corey Black. Then what? Where do you go from here after losing the World Title in such a shitty way? Nowhere. You go nowhere, the same place you’ve been for years. This is a lose-lose situation for you no matter the outcome, Jeff. I can go right back to the top of the card if I want, I can challenge Joey Flash and he’ll accept because he knows I’m owed a rematch. You might get off on the fact that you beat a guy you put through a table years ago to win a pointless tag match, but as soon as you spurt, you’re right back to being discount Roy Speede.
I’m going to take it upon myself to take whatever shred of dignity you have left in this contest, Jeff. Any ounce of self-worth will be mine by the end of the night. I’m going to put the final nail in the coffin known as old Pantheon by driving it directly through your heart. It has been years since we were on opposite sides of the ring, and you’ll wish it never happened. You’re going to regret signing up for this match. You will curse the minute you got on that plane and came to my home. You’re going to have nightmares about the things I am going to do to you for years to come. I can honestly say you will not come out of First Avenue the same person you went in as, and it’s not a compliment. You’ve NEVER been through anything like this in your life, and after the show is over, you will never have to worry about it happening again. The only thing you’ll have is the lingering injuries. The cuts on your head. The torn flesh across your back. The fused spine. The brain damage. Blown out knee. It’s all coming your way, you pompous motherfucker.
The Future happened in 2002 when I debuted in this company, Jeff. You had no business even coming here. It was your fourth match, wasn’t it? You had come over from ACW because you knew goddamn well that WCF is the best place in the world. All smiles, high energy. Fresh as can be. Six man tag match, live on Slam. You were getting your first taste of what it’s like to be in the ring with Corey Black. But you said something.. you said something that lingered. Can I get playback on that?
The video screen lights up to Jeff Purse standing there, younger than ever. The crowd boos this man relentlessly.
Booing intensifies until Corey hushes the crowd down.
Corey Black
Within your first month here in WCF, you had already signed your fate for January 13th, 2017. Your arrogance carved your name in my brain and it hasn’t been the same ever since. People can be furious with me because I held onto my ire for Bates for over a year, but wait until they see this shit. Your team won that match because Oblivion is a bumbling fool, full circle moment. No matter where we were, no matter what we did, every time I saw you, I thought of those words you said. You badmouth my own show, and the very next time it happened, you were on your knees begging me to be on it. Then every other time after that until now, I put you on it just so I can end you. All because of these words you said. And now that I have said them all about you, I hope you realize exactly what you have done here. You opened up Pandora’s Box, unleashed the beast within and he’s coming to devour your fucking soul in Minneapolis.
No, not Creeping Death.
Worse.
You’re going one on one with me at XIII in a match that can devolve into steel chairs across the head for fifteen minutes, it only ends in pin or submission. Basically, I get to toy around with your lifeless body for as long as I want. Do all the damage I want to you, and then, if you’re lucky, I’ll leave you with just enough life force left to breathe on your own as you’re wheeled into the ambulance. Through each beat of your heart, as it thumps in your head, you will hear the crowd chanting my name in glorious victory. My music will be playing throughout the venue. As you pass by Kari and Patrick, you can look them both in the eye, apologize, and tell them the name of the man that put Jeff Purse out of WCF forever. Tell them who dashed every dream they ever had going forward. No more house, no more cars, no Legos or action figures. Daddy’s income will now be zero, he’ll have to live off of disability and social security. TELL THEM WHO ENDS YOU, JEFF.
Corey.
Fucking.
Black.
The crowd explodes once again as Corey drops the mic on the stage. The four different chants start up again, there isn’t a soul under that roof that isn’t electrified and ready for some blood. Corey throws the devil horns into the sky, an act which is copied by every last member of that crowd. He nods to them, before retreating to the backstage area once again. Through the halls, and into his locker room, once again greeted by the ladies that will be the voices of the show.
Nikki Venus
It’s almost time to get this thing started. We’ll leave you alone now.
Taylor Swift
But before we do, don’t forget why you’re doing this. It isn’t to beat the snot out of Jeff, it’s because you love the business and this is the best way to give back. This show will forever be a testament to your dedication to the craft.
Corey Black
I know, thanks. I’ll see you ladies out there.
Nikki and Taylor smile as they walk out the door, leaving Corey alone once again with his gear. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a framed photo of himself, Jonny Fly, Jayson Price, Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse. Everybody has signed it. Except the one.
Corey Black
Classic Jeff Purse.
The photo is tossed aside, the glass shatters everywhere, just as Corey has tossed aside every single person in that picture inside the ring. In consecutive matches. Tonight, Corey finishes running the table on old Pantheon.
Corey sits alone in his bedroom inside his castle, a monument to his time in WCF. Who else but Odin Balfore could get a castle? Main event paychecks for fifteen years will do that. Alas, it gets lonely in Denmark all alone. Sure, Corey’s new best friend in the world lives right across the street, but let’s face it – Corey and Odin are very different people. Do you think Corey could invite Odin over to play GTA? I don’t think so either. And so, the King of All Wrestlers sits alone in his purple-clad bedroom, just contemplating life. XIII is right around the corner, Rise Up and then the pay-per-view season is off to the races. Corey stands up from sitting on his bed, walking over to his accomplishments display. Replicas of all the titles he has won, the awards, the trophies, and a picture of Pantheon framed. Signed by all the members but one. There’s no signature next to Jeff Purse’s image. Corey sighs and shakes his head. He knows Jeff doesn’t see what he has done all this time. Jeff thinks he was a good friend. He did the best he could.
Corey walks out into the hallway now, the stone pattern looks mesmerizing. The architecture in this place is astounding, almost all original. Through the hallway and into his living room, then another doorway which leads to stairs going down into darkness. The Danish Dungeon, as it’s been referred to as. A dirt floor with most of the amenities one would need to train to be a pro wrestler. There’s primitive gym equipment, there’s a ring, and there’s a station in the corner with a television to watch matches. This has been Corey’s base of operation for years now. When he isn’t training new recruits in the WCF Performance Center in Pennsylvania, he’s here, in the dark and dirty basement of an old Danish castle. About as pure as you can get. He’s not on the beach in California pumping iron with all the jocks at Muscle Beach. Instead of iron weights, there’s various sizes of stone and logs. When it comes to wrestling, Corey Black is as old school as it gets. Fundamentals are key. Speed, timing, precision. The wrestler he is going against in Minneapolis is the very same. Fifteen years in the ring, though, you can’t train for that. There’s no training in the universe that can prepare anyone for the wealth of knowledge Corey Black holds within his brain. Counters for counters for counters. Jeff Purse has been in the Dungeon, he knows what happens in this place, and he still accepted the offer to battle the King of All Wrestlers at XIII.
Hell, he may as well have suggested it.
If these walls and objects could talk, they’d never stop with all the stories they’d have. The mechanism that swings the dummy down from the ceiling could go on for days about how Corey reacts quicker than anyone. His elbows are more dangerous than a baseball bat. His aggression is unmatched. The ring could speak on the quickness, the agility and the focus. The European Pantheon Meeting Room would give details on all the masterful plans laid out inside it, and complain about all the coffee cake crumbs left on its floor. But even with all the stories it could tell, there would be one it couldn’t speak of.
Dethfort couldn’t ever claim to be HOME.
Corey turns and heads back up his stairs, into the living room and then back to his bedroom. He grabs a bag from his closet and begins putting clothes into it. The journey to Minneapolis is long, but he's done it multiple times. Couple of shirts, couple of pants, ring gear and he stops. He looks at the set-up of all his belts and awards. Corey smiles, that half-mouthed dickhead smile.
Minneapolis, Minnesota. Home. A place with a rich cultural history. Legends of music, sports, business and government have called this place home. A small wrestling show, one that draws fans to the city from across the glove, has emanated from this place a few times before. The first time it will take place in a venue with such history as First Avenue, though, will be today. One thousand five hundred fans will pack into the smaller building to watch men battle for supremacy. With no titles on the line, pride is the only thing worth fighting for. In the main event, two former friends will collide to prove to eachother once and for all which one of them is the best. One, a decorated Champion and well-liked family man. The other is known as the “King of all Wrestlers.” Are you ready?… for XIII!
It’s cold up in Minnesota nowadays. Winter is in full effect, snow and ice line the streets. That doesn’t stop a crowd of fans from lining up around the corner at First Avenue hours before XIII even starts. Even as a bit of snow begins to fall, they stay strong, waiting to get in and see their favorite wrestlers in action. It’s mid-afternoon at this point, the sun is out, and yet the wind is just bitter enough to send shivers down the spine of even the burliest biker in line. Women huddle next to their men, shivering and trying to stay warm. All of that goes out the window when, out from the front doors, walks Corey Black. Everyone in line turns and begins cheering, Corey bows and high fives the first few people in line. He’s not exactly bundled up, wearing just a black hoodie and jeans, but Corey takes the time to go down the line and either high five or shake the hand of every last person standing there waiting to get in. As he gets around the corner, the last few people are greeted, and Corey says his goodbyes before heading back into the venue through the guarded back door.
Through the hallway and into his dressing room, Corey sits down across from Nikki Venus and Taylor Swift who are comparing outfits. They’re both dressed casually at the moment, but there’s three dresses each laid out on the table. They’re pointing and holding them up to themselves.
Corey Black
I’m glad you two are getting along now.
Taylor Swift
Yeah, now that this one knows better than to try to lure your little buddy out.
Nikki Venus
Now what’s that supposed to mean?!
Corey laughs a bit, Nikki turns red and Taylor smiles.
Taylor Swift
He who shall not be named, Nikki. Not the actual little buddy.
Corey Black
I’ve been meaning to ask you two about that..
Nikki Venus
You’re not riding the tricycle.
Corey Black
Wouldn’t that make things a lot easier?
Taylor Swift
No. Uh.. no. Maybe?
Nikki Venus
Oh Christ you too now?
Nikki playfully pushes Taylor, making her wobble on those long legs.
Taylor Swift
The tension is there and you know it.
Corey sits back in his chair, knowing full well what he has done to these two ladies.
Taylor Swift
We’ve never even really defined what our relationship is yet.
Nikki Venus
I’ll define it – y’all fuckin’ and it’s ridiculous.
Taylor and Corey both sit there stunned. Corey goes to speak but Taylor gets the words in just a beat before he does.
Taylor Swift
Who said that?!
Nikki Venus
Shut up, I’m not stupid and neither is the entire world. A popstar princess wouldn’t agree to read names and weights of sweaty, gross men if she wasn’t there on a favor.
Taylor Swift
That’s just not true! I’d be here either way.
Nikki Venus
HA so you admit it.
Corey is just sitting there, laughing to himself. A few months ago this would have ended in a brawl. Well, it still might.
Taylor Swift
Oh whatever, what should we wear? We should coordinate and leave Flash out of it so he looks like a dork.
Nikki Venus
Now you’re speaking my language.
The ladies turn their attention back to their outfits, while Corey unzips his gear bag. He pulls out every piece of his gear, all clad in black, and lays them down carefully on the floor. This is a ritual unlike any other. Corey’s gear is an extension of his own body. Every wrestler should feel this way, but Corey more so. His boots are crafted specifically to crush Jeff Purse’s bones. His elbow pads protect only his own elbows from the punishment he intends to give out later on tonight. Taylor and Nikki know better than to bother him at this point in time, it’s psyche up minute. A knock at the door just as Corey breaks out of his ritual, and a stagehand comes in.
Stagehand
Corey, we have a bit of an issue. It’s getting too cold for those people to stand outside. Should we let them in early?
Corey Black
Well, of course we should. But what do we do to entertain them?
Nikki Venus
Go out there and do a ventriloquist act, Jeff Purse would do it.
Taylor Swift
Yeah, use your bag and call it Father Baggy Zipdrews.
Stagehand
Please don’t, these people out here are insane. It may as well be a Megadeth concert.
Corey Black
Oh Taylor, I’m so sorry. You’re out of your element.
Taylor Swift
I did fine at The Myth, I’ll be fine here.
Corey sits back in his chair and looks at his phone. An idea pops into his head.
Corey Black
Does the computer that runs the video screen have internet access?
Stagehand
I think it does, yeah!
Corey Black
Let the people in. Trust me.
The stagehand nods and runs off, Corey stands up and nods to the ladies before heading out the door. He goes toward the ring, but turns at the stage, typing away at a computer. People are filing in., and soon it stops. The place is full. Shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, a lake of humanity. I’d say sea but this place is too small for that. The screen on the stage lights up to a Google Chrome browser. The crowd is quite confused, but they go along with it.
Crowd
GOO-GLE CHROME! GOO-GLE CHROME! GOO-GLE CHROME!
Behind the curtain, Corey begins laughing to himself again. Ridiculous chant. He types in Amazon.com. You guessed it.
Crowd
LET’S GO AMAZON! Clap clap clapclapclap LET’S GO AMAZON! Clap clap clapclapclap
Corey tries to quickly click on videos, and then to a movie. The crowd cheers and roars even louder as Corey dusts his hands off and walks back to his locker room. Taylor and Nikki are half naked, getting dressed. He stops and closes the door quickly, shielding his eyes.
Nikki Venus
Oh whatever, it’s fine, how’s it look out there?
Corey Black
Well, everybody is inside now, and they’re watching a movie.
Taylor Swift
Seriously? A movie?
Corey Black
Friday the 13th, my dear.
Taylor Swift
Of course it is. That’ll keep them occupied for a few hours.
Corey Black
Amazon has all of them. They can be occupied until the show starts!
Nikki Venus
Hey, whatever works man. How’s your new neighbor?
Corey Black
Alright, I suppose. It’s just weird having him across the street, you know?
Taylor Swift
Oh no, who is it?
Corey Black
Odin.
Taylor drops her shoe. And hew jaw. And her eyes widen, too.
Taylor Swift
That’s going to be an awkward pie to bake. ‘Welcome to the neighborhood, Odin, I baked you this goat’s blood pie!’
Corey Black
He’d probably dig it.
Taylor Swift
I’m not baking him a goat’s blood pie.
Nikki Venus
I’ll do it. That would be fun. We can all walk down into the village and get a goat this weekend.
Corey and Taylor are taken aback. Confusion comes over their faces.
Nikki Venus
What? I thought I made it clear I was going home with you. Just make it through Jeff Purse.
Corey Black
Hold up, are you Ja Ruling me?
Nikki Venus
Ja what?
Corey Black
Second Fast and Furious movie, this chick told Ja Rule if he lost he’d get her, but if he won, he’d get her and her friend. Ja Ruling.
In the background, Taylor Swift is laughing near uncontrollably.
Nikki Venus
No, I’m telling you WHEN you get out there and WHEN you destroy Jeff Purse, we’re all going back to Denmark for the weekend. I’ll make Odin’s pie and whatever else happens – happens.
Corey Black
Can we just forget the pie? The goat’s blood one?
Nikki Venus
I guess, if you insist.
Corey Black
Yeah, I do.
An awkward silence comes over the room. What the hell do you say at this point? Taylor knows.
Taylor Swift
Do I have to watch out again? Last time this happened, I was dragged into the ring and used as bait. I’d prefer not having that happen again.
Corey Black
You should be fine, Orbit thinks women are objects, Jeff is very well mannered when it comes to the ladies. He won’t lay a hand on you. That, and he knows if he did, I’d end him that second. More the former, though.
Nikki Venus
So if he’s such a nice guy, why fight him?
Corey Black
Because I have to. See, this Retirement Tour is about two things. Challenging myself, and tying up some loose ends. Jeff Purse is one of those loose ends that never got tied. He said some things about me that were not true, some stuff that was true that shouldn’t have ever left his mouth, and acted in a way that was disrespectful to me and the company as a whole. Ever since I joined Pantheon, there was something about him that was just off. He didn’t like the fact that I came into the group already established. But to my face, he was all happy go lucky. He’s a two-faced twat and I intend on slapping both of those faces right off his head tonight.
Nikki Venus
Jeff is why I think we should match and leave Joey out, Taylor. He’s got OCD bad. So if two of the ring announcers match and the last is out of place, it’s going to drive him fucking nuts. Also any reason to make the Champ look like a dork.
Taylor Swift
Ooooh, you’re cunning. I like that.
Corey Black
I appreciate the thought, but I won’t be needing any underhanded tricks this time. I’ve got this. There’s no endless stream of rematches for Jeff, it’s one and done. He won’t be beating me.
Corey sits down in the chair he was in earlier, looking down upon his gear once again. The ladies put the finishing touches on their outfits and head out the door to get with production about ear pieces, microphones and headphones, leaving Corey all alone finally. Soon after, the stagehand bursts into Corey’s locker room.
Stagehand
They’re chanting for you. The movie is almost over and they won’t stop.
Corey Black
My people, man. I’ll be there shortly.
Stagehand nods and leaves, Corey not far behind him. He heads right for the stage, and the credits are rolling. The stagehand fades the screen out and Corey Black steps out to overlook the crowd. They go ape shit. They’re chanting like four different things. The stagehand hands Corey a microphone, and he hushes the crowd.
Corey Black
Who the fuck is hyped for XIII?!
Later on tonight, you'll see some of the best wrestling on this planet. Matches you'd never see on Slam. An all female battle royal that is sure to put women's wrestling back on the map in WCF. The Age of Ultron Match debuts tonight, finally. Andre came to me with this idea for last year's show, but we all know what happened there, so we went with it again this round. A real chance for some of the lower-tier guys to show their stuff and get noticed, including hometown boy Dion! After that, a proposed Television Title Match which is now just a regular old singles contest, Mr. FPV goes one on one with Jared Holmes! There’s a bit of bad blood brewing there. Absolutely an amazing contest. Following that, it’s the return of Nathan Von Liebert as he battles Kevin Bishop. That match may intrigue me the most on the card, to be honest. Those two guys are so similar. It’ll be a blockbuster, and you’ll only see it at XIII. Another return tonight, as Alex Richards comes home to fight Johnny Rabid in what could be a pay=per-view main event battle across the globe. Violence will be personified as Odin Balfore, my new neighbor, fights Wade Moor in a clash of former WCF World Champions. There will be blood. David Sanchez, riding high after kicking my ass and the ass of basically everyone else to win Final Destination, heads even further up the card as he attempts to topple Gravedigger! Torture is back tonight, he’s got some choice words for some piece of shit named Seth. And in your main event, I will take the head of Jeff Purse and present it to you, my people, as an offering.
So, why Jeff Purse? Of all the people I could have chosen to fight me at XIII, why is it that I picked the most basic bitch to ever walk the halls of WCF? Simple. He’s the last one. He’s the final member of the Pantheon that made waves. I’ve beat Jay Price, I’ve beat Steve Orbit and Jonny Fly, the only guy left is Jeff. It works out well, he’s been the most vocal about me reforming the group without him, leaving him with literally nothing. Without Pantheon, I’m King of the Deathmatch and WCF World Champion. Without Pantheon, Jeff Purse is cannon fodder for multiple-man tag team matches. The definition of “clusterfuck tag” will have a link to Jeff Purse’s profile. So, it’s obvious why this fuccboi was so butthurt when the greatest version of Pantheon ever hit the scene at War. When you list out the members of Pantheon, you get to Johnny Reb and then Jeff Purse is the last, forgotten piece of shit. Jeff Purse, the black sheep of Pantheon. The guy everyone knew was around, but barely cared about. He’d show up for a meeting, go home, have a fit with his wife and come into Slam distracted. All the talent in the world, unlimited upside, zero drive to get it done. Made buddies with Kid Phantasm and Jonny Fly, formed Pantheon, and did diddly fuck with it. You know who is doing something with their invitation to join Earth’s Mightiest Wrestling Stable? Me. The dude that joined up to help the long-gone douchebags like Purse, Fly, Orbit and Phantasm. I did what Bobby Cairo could never do, I turned two men into Legends, one into a whiny little bitch, and just forgot about Jeff Purse. I went on to reform the group and push Jay Omega to the fucking stratosphere. Alex Richards, while not in WCF, is becoming a legend in his own right. You were there, you saw first hand what I can do with young minds to mold. Joey Flash is the WCF World Champion, #Beachkrew are Trios Champions, and where does Jeff Purse fall in all this? I can just hear it now. ‘Wah wah Corey, you’re not Pantheon, you weren’t ever supposed to be a part of the group, but when you were I pretended to be the best friend you ever had while secretly being so jealous of your success I got your face tattooed on my ass, pay attention to me I’m Jeff Purse!’
Jeff Purse isn’t even a part-timer. He’s a two-timer-in-five-yearser, if that. I’m being generous in the praise.
Remember when Jeff Purse won almost every title WCF has to offer or did the impossible and won War, at the same time winning the World Title? Of course you don’t, because you only remember Jeff Purse winning the belt from Oblivion, then losing it three weeks later to Stuart Slane. That’s it. That is the legacy of Jeff Purse. He’s not a Pantheon member, he’s not a great World Champion, he’s a guy that won the belt when it was getting passed around. He’s not a legend. He won’t be in the Hall of Fame. He’s a friggin’ OCD wackjob that plays with puppets and gets hit by cars. “Hey guys I’ll be back September 11th!” Fucking crickets. September 11th rolls around, no Jeff Purse, and nobody batted an eye. What happened when you finally made your return, huh? Jack shit, that’s right. You weren’t even tagged into the match. Then you walked into War, had yourself some coffee, and got eliminated in about a minute. What was I doing at War, you ask? Oh just toppling a Mountain and taking what is mine, no big deal. Don’t mind me, just continuing to cement my place in WCF history. Cling on to Cryogenix like it were Pantheon, try to make your useless life matter. Pretend like you’re some revolutionary force within the company instead of a footnote in my career. You showed up in December of 2011 and had all the upside in the world. Only to squander every single opportunity given to you. Most of your big matches and big chances gone out the window for one reason or another. You’re not a closer at all. You can’t get the job done when it needs to. It’s a miracle I even let you stay in Pantheon. My stable. Yeah, that’s right, it’s mine. You may have been a pillar, but I own the deed to the building. “Hashtag Not Pantheon! Hashtag Not Pantheon! None of the four original members are in the group, I know Beachkrew when I see them!” Shut the fuck up, Purse, Jesus. Who doesn’t count in that statement? I count five original members. Not to split hairs, but you’re the one that has counted the least. We’d go get you drunk in Germany before I had a big match and all you wanted to do was talk about you and finger your puppet Father Terry Andrews. It was always Jeff Jeff Jeff Kari Kari Kari. Nobody else. You didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s problems but your own. And that’s why you’re a selfish prick. That’s why I didn’t invite you back into Pantheon, you weren’t ever a good fit in the first place. As soon as I said yes, the group was mine, whether you or Polar or anyone likes it or not. I’ve been a central part of this machine for its entire life, and it’ll continue on long after I am dead. Pantheon is above you, Jeff. It’s above you, above Polar, above all of you. Thanks for creating the mold, you’re welcome for filling it so well. You can’t ask a King to join a court and not expect him to take it over, plebs. So once I vanquish you, Jeff, you can stop meandering about and dropping buzz words all over the place like anybody will get you trending on Twitter. You can move along with your pathetic existence and try to put your best years behind you. The years I was there to show you the way.
Look at me, Jeff. I went seven for seven in Deathmatches through last year. Seven fucking wins, man. I won more matches in a week pan than you have in the last two years combined. I beat guys like Odin Balfore, Mikey eXtreme and Thomas Bates. You beat Oblivion. Wow. Fire up the oven and bake Jeff Purse a victory cake, because he pulled off the biggest win of his life! Don’t get me wrong, you were World Champion in 2016 – that’s sort of impressive. Except who you won it from, and the circumstances, and the outcome, and all of it rolled into one. Whereas I had to be fucked out of it because of politics and the Konami Code giving a douchebag thirty rematches. Where’s the video of you washing your hands and demanding Joey Flash put the World Title on the line against you since you didn’t get a rematch? Nowhere, because you didn’t earn the right to fight for it in the first place! You got ham-fisted into a tournament and were lucky enough to have the cards fall in your favor. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Some fuccboi decided to close the place down for half the month, and when it came back, there were zero main eventers. Enter Oblivion, Jeff Purse, Stuart Slane, Gemini Battle and Thomas Bates. The saviors of the new generation, who are now little more than afterthoughts. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’ve seen this place change more times than I care to count. Because I have been here through thick and thin. I saw the golden era, I saw the beginning, I’ll see the end. Jeff Purse, you’re lucky to see Saturday.
If you weren’t your own favorite wrestler, I wouldn’t feel the need to destroy you. That’s the thing about you, you always hype yourself up to be some amazing in-ring talent, and then when the going gets tough, you hit the bricks. You’re not here to help anybody but yourself. As long as your paycheck comes in the mail, it doesn’t matter who you have to step on to get it. Family man my ass, I’ve bred more World Champions than you can count. I give back to this company I love because it is mine. WCF is mine, Pantheon is mine, the World Title is mine, and you sure as fuck are mine come Friday night, boy. You can run back to California, do your couples counseling with Kari and spend time with the baby. Little Patrick, forever screwed in life because whenever life gets too hard, Daddy is going to leave since he can’t handle pressure. I want to be there for Patty, the kid needs a positive male in his life. Someone he can look up to. A King among Kings, Uncle Corey Black. I’ll show the kid how to be successful in life, you can be the example I use when I tell him how it can be out there in the real world if you’re a punk ass bitch.
That’s your calling card. Whenever you’re threatened, you ghost WCF for weeks, months, whatever. That’s why I’m so surprised you signed on the dotted line to fight me in Minneapolis. You’re leaving your OCD comfort zone and heading face first into an onslaught of Corey Black fans. One thousand strong, standing up and cheering me every time my elbow makes contact, and booing you if you even get in a punch. Can you handle that kind of environment? I don’t think you can. Steve Orbit couldn’t and he’s seven times the man you are. He dropped me fifteen feet down to the ring and couldn’t get it done. What can you do in this situation what I haven’t already been through? What kind of tricks does Jeff Purse really have that would throw me off my game so much that he could possibly have a chance to win this thing? A fucking superkick? Everyone and their mother does a superkick you pleb, yours is only special because you gave it a fancy name. Cliché as all get out, Jeffy boy. You don’t have the balls to come to my level. You don’t have the skill either, but if you just had what it takes to be a man for once in your life, you’d put on a good show for my fans that will be watching with baited breath. They’ll hope for a good match, but I will have to disappoint them with a massacre instead. They’ll still cheer. They’ll be happy to see your blood spill onto the black mat. The rabid fan base will chant my name as I knock you into unconsciousness. Pantheon will clink their drinks together in the back and howl with laughter as the remaining stain on the name will be washed out completely.
A Mountain with armor didn’t faze me. A lanky white boy with frosted tips sure won’t either. N’Sync from 1999 called, they want their style back. Nice ring tights.. affordable? You look more like a boy band member than you do a pro wrestler. I’m the smallest guy around, but I still look more intimidating than you do. Surely you have plenty of time to hit the gym when you’re dodging big matches constantly. Maybe you can take this payday you’re getting from me and get a Snap Fitness membership. That way you can work out with all the other soccer moms in your town and set up tea times.
But let’s assume you can make it out to the ring even in the sea of black t-shirts. I’ll pretend for a second that you actually do have a chance in this match. Somehow The Spoke can put the King of All Wrestlers on his back. Jeff Purse does show enough heart to stand toe to toe with Corey Black. Then what? Where do you go from here after losing the World Title in such a shitty way? Nowhere. You go nowhere, the same place you’ve been for years. This is a lose-lose situation for you no matter the outcome, Jeff. I can go right back to the top of the card if I want, I can challenge Joey Flash and he’ll accept because he knows I’m owed a rematch. You might get off on the fact that you beat a guy you put through a table years ago to win a pointless tag match, but as soon as you spurt, you’re right back to being discount Roy Speede.
I’m going to take it upon myself to take whatever shred of dignity you have left in this contest, Jeff. Any ounce of self-worth will be mine by the end of the night. I’m going to put the final nail in the coffin known as old Pantheon by driving it directly through your heart. It has been years since we were on opposite sides of the ring, and you’ll wish it never happened. You’re going to regret signing up for this match. You will curse the minute you got on that plane and came to my home. You’re going to have nightmares about the things I am going to do to you for years to come. I can honestly say you will not come out of First Avenue the same person you went in as, and it’s not a compliment. You’ve NEVER been through anything like this in your life, and after the show is over, you will never have to worry about it happening again. The only thing you’ll have is the lingering injuries. The cuts on your head. The torn flesh across your back. The fused spine. The brain damage. Blown out knee. It’s all coming your way, you pompous motherfucker.
The Future happened in 2002 when I debuted in this company, Jeff. You had no business even coming here. It was your fourth match, wasn’t it? You had come over from ACW because you knew goddamn well that WCF is the best place in the world. All smiles, high energy. Fresh as can be. Six man tag match, live on Slam. You were getting your first taste of what it’s like to be in the ring with Corey Black. But you said something.. you said something that lingered. Can I get playback on that?
The video screen lights up to Jeff Purse standing there, younger than ever. The crowd boos this man relentlessly.
Jeff Purse said:
And finally we have the champ himself, Corey "Creeping Death" Black. Five time, five time, five time WCF champion. A decade of ass kicking and name taking in this guys career. A jobber killer to say the least. A guy with so much push around here, he got his own pay per view...XIII. Man, this guy is all hype, huh? I mean come on, Creeping Death, not everyone can buy into your rouse. Corey Black
Within your first month here in WCF, you had already signed your fate for January 13th, 2017. Your arrogance carved your name in my brain and it hasn’t been the same ever since. People can be furious with me because I held onto my ire for Bates for over a year, but wait until they see this shit. Your team won that match because Oblivion is a bumbling fool, full circle moment. No matter where we were, no matter what we did, every time I saw you, I thought of those words you said. You badmouth my own show, and the very next time it happened, you were on your knees begging me to be on it. Then every other time after that until now, I put you on it just so I can end you. All because of these words you said. And now that I have said them all about you, I hope you realize exactly what you have done here. You opened up Pandora’s Box, unleashed the beast within and he’s coming to devour your fucking soul in Minneapolis.
No, not Creeping Death.
Worse.
You’re going one on one with me at XIII in a match that can devolve into steel chairs across the head for fifteen minutes, it only ends in pin or submission. Basically, I get to toy around with your lifeless body for as long as I want. Do all the damage I want to you, and then, if you’re lucky, I’ll leave you with just enough life force left to breathe on your own as you’re wheeled into the ambulance. Through each beat of your heart, as it thumps in your head, you will hear the crowd chanting my name in glorious victory. My music will be playing throughout the venue. As you pass by Kari and Patrick, you can look them both in the eye, apologize, and tell them the name of the man that put Jeff Purse out of WCF forever. Tell them who dashed every dream they ever had going forward. No more house, no more cars, no Legos or action figures. Daddy’s income will now be zero, he’ll have to live off of disability and social security. TELL THEM WHO ENDS YOU, JEFF.
Corey.
Fucking.
Black.
The crowd explodes once again as Corey drops the mic on the stage. The four different chants start up again, there isn’t a soul under that roof that isn’t electrified and ready for some blood. Corey throws the devil horns into the sky, an act which is copied by every last member of that crowd. He nods to them, before retreating to the backstage area once again. Through the halls, and into his locker room, once again greeted by the ladies that will be the voices of the show.
Nikki Venus
It’s almost time to get this thing started. We’ll leave you alone now.
Taylor Swift
But before we do, don’t forget why you’re doing this. It isn’t to beat the snot out of Jeff, it’s because you love the business and this is the best way to give back. This show will forever be a testament to your dedication to the craft.
Corey Black
I know, thanks. I’ll see you ladies out there.
Nikki and Taylor smile as they walk out the door, leaving Corey alone once again with his gear. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a framed photo of himself, Jonny Fly, Jayson Price, Steve Orbit and Jeff Purse. Everybody has signed it. Except the one.
Corey Black
Classic Jeff Purse.
The photo is tossed aside, the glass shatters everywhere, just as Corey has tossed aside every single person in that picture inside the ring. In consecutive matches. Tonight, Corey finishes running the table on old Pantheon.
