Episode MCMORRIS

[FPV]

KOTDM NIGHT FIVE: Episode MCMORRIS

The past two days had been easy. Far too easy.

After the brief bump in the road that was my tie with Jaice Wilds, I course-corrected and got myself right back on track. Damian Simmons was not a challenge in any definition of the word. While he took a burning Galaxy Note Seven to the face like a champ, but alas it was his only highlight in that match. The backbreaker into the flames made sure of it. Udy faired even worse. The glorified furry of the WCF stepped into that electrified cage all too unaware of just what I could do to him. I tried to warn him, about how well I do in structures. He didn't listen, so he paid the price, and dearly.

But all of that was about to change. My final opponent in Block B before heading to the finals was none other then Crow McMorris. This guy wasn't a pushover jobber like the previous three men I had beat (with respects to Jaice Wilds.) No, Crow was as serious as you could be, and as of this writing is the current. There's no crazy formulas in involved in this one folks. If Crow beats me tonight, he moves to the finals. I win, I move on. Simple and to the point. I like it.

It would be a change of pace, that much was certain. He'd be much more difficult, much more tenacious. He's already died once, I'd have to imagine he'd have no qualms putting his body on the line to defeat me. But victory wasn't impossible. No, while he certainly superhuman at this point, even Superman has his weaknesses, his blind spots. Most of his opponents were too scared to notice them. But not me. I did my homework. And now it was time to put that homework to use.

I sat on a wooden bench, my lock beside me. The Hammerstein Ballroom was a legendary venue. Well known for being used during the dying days of Extreme Championship Wrestling, there was no better place to end this week then here. And how! Exploding C4 Deathmatch, a CZW match if ever there was one. For the first time all week, I was a little scared. I had never been in a match like this before, and had no idea what to expect going into this thing. But I knew from first hand experience that there's no way to conquer your fears unless you face them head on. Besides, from all reports it would appear that our match would be going on last. I had an obligation to the fans to put on the best show I possibly could, and if that meant permanently blowing off a piece of my body, then by god I would do it.

I had gotten here early to beat everyone else, get a brief moment of peace before I had to re-murder a man, so it was just me, myself and I for the moment. Suddenly, from around the corner, the boss himself popped in. He was still wearing that godforsaken jacket he had worn at the press conference two days ago, perhaps to feel a bit more edgelord, perhaps to hide his insecurities, who knows. One quick look on his face and I could tell he was concerned.

FPV: What's up, boss?

Seth Lerch: The press want to know what happened.

FPV: Tell them they'll find out once the show is over, after I've won the block.

Seth Lerch: Not that, you fucking idiot. What happened with Quinn.

I had been joking with Seth, trying to agitate him a little, but I had no idea what he had to say was that bad. Usually when he said stuff like that it was about stuff that was his own fault. Not something as personal to me as this. My expression instantly shifted towards sternness.

FPV: What happened between me and him was resolved days ago. I have nothing else to say about him.

Seth Lerch: Well I need to tell them something! I can't just go out there and say "it's nothing" when everyone knows that's not true! That's the Spicer method, and lemme fuckin tell you, I ain't spicey.

FPV: Timely as always boss.

Seth Lerch: FOCUS HERE!

FPV: Fine, fine. Tell them that I myself will make a statement when I'm ready to. That what happened was very personal, and I need a few days to gather it all together. In the meantime, I'd like to focus on actually winning this tournament as possible so I can face Corey Black at Ultimate Showdown. Is that clear enough?

He didn't look satisfied by what I hold him, but he knew he wasn't getting much more out of me, so he let it go.

Seth Lerch: Fine. That's what I'll tell them.

FPV: Good. Now I have a deathmatch to get ready for, so if you'll excuse me...

Seth Lerch: Yeah yeah, whatever.

He turned and began walking away from me to another part of the locker room. And then all of a sudden, he turned right around and came back to me.

Seth Lerch: Actually, about that.

I looked at him, confused.

FPV: Yeah?

Seth Lerch: I'm not one to usually say this to my employees, but...I'm actually hoping that you pull it out. At least in this match.

I was taken aback. Even in my days of mindlessly serving him in the ToT/Dot, he had never said anything like this right to my face.

FPV: Oh...really?

Seth Lerch: Yup. If I'm being completely honest, this whole tournament has been a bust from the start. I should have never done that zombification match. too many safety hazards and now I've got to start and entire fucking foundation dedicated to that piece of shit building. All because that fucking Crow is a zombie. "It'll drum up interest" I told myself. "An undead wrestler in a zombie match! That'll fuckin print money!" And look at me now. Probably going to be in the red for a few months, and I've got that dark Mcmorris cloud floating over my head. So please, beat him and take him out of this tournament. For my sake.

I took in every word he said. He wanted me to win for his own selfish reasons (incredibly insensitive reasons too) but I sort of understood him. After brief nod, I shot him a cheeky little smile.

FPV: Don't worry boss. Knowing people like Crow, as ssoon as they lose this thing they'll be gone and out of your hair for another few months.

Seth Lerch: Indeed. Now get ready. This is the most important match yet, I'd like you to be prepared for it.

And with that, he finally left me alone to my own devices.

---

Streamed on Facebook Live. The camera is turned towards a crowd of people standing in line, waiting to have their tickets taken and be allowed entry into the Hammerstein Ballroom. These were true diehard wrestling fans, plenty of old school wrestling tees, a lot of FPV shirts...and an equal amount of Crow shirts. The camera then flips to the front, showing that the person recording this is FPV himself.

FPV: Beautiful, isn't it. These fans have no idea that the show they're about to watch will be an all time classic. All because of one. Fucking. Match.

Crow v. Frank.

Crow, you of all people should know how much of this tournament has been building up to this one point. When I found out I'd be sharing a block with you, I knew for a face we'd be closing the whole damn thing out. Because brother, it's either you, or me. No in between.

You've been lucky so far. You've had the luxury of being the front runner for this whole tournament. The only undefeated man so far this week. It should be an inevitability that you move on to the finals Sunday. But you've got one more obstacle to face: ME.

I'll tell you right now, I'm not another Udy, quivering down at your feet while I beg for mercy. I'm not Dammian Simmmons, slowly losing the capacity to walk while you attack me. I'm none of those fucking jabronis. You all of all people should know that. You don't strike me as stupid. So at least I know this won't be easy for either of us.

I do have to laugh though, Crow. It seems the two of us came into this tournament for very similar reasons: the promise that we'd face an old nemesis of ours somewhere down the line. For you, that person is Wade Moor. For me, Corey Black. But as much as I can sympathize with your cause Crow, I just have to laugh at it now.

Have you been paying attention to how A Block has shaped up, Crow? I'm sure you have. So you should be aware that your boi Wade has actually dropped down in the points behind (shocker of all shockers) WILLIAM THE BEHEMOTH. Just who is this jobber of all jobbers, you may ask? He's only one half of The Very Big Alliance, a team everyone seems to think of as a joke until moments like these. A new age version of the 1-2-3 Kid, if you will. Nobody thought that William would even score a single point in this whole shebang. But shocker of all shockers, not only has he managed to pick up a single win, but enough to actually propel him to FIRST PLACE. And who was one of the people he beat for that spot?

If you guessed Wade Moor, congratulations.

So now it's the final night of the blocks, Wade is behind in points and William has the easiest opponent in this whole tournament not named Udy, Matthhew Drake. A match he will almost assuredly win, leaving him the winner of the A block. It doesn't matter is Wade beats O'Neil in his match, he won't have enough points to surpass William.

I'd imagine for you Crow, that has to be demoralizing as fuck.

Just think, the man you fucking SIGNED UP FOR THIS TOURNAMENT FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE< and you can't even face him because he couldn't get the job done against the jabroni of the week. How fucking sad. You've said yourself multiple times that Wade Moor is the only reason you're in this tournament, so now you've got nothing to fight for. I mean sure, you could actually have a little fighting spirit and carry on in the tournament anyway because you're a man of honor. But no. You're so blinded by your own quest for vengeance that nothing matters anymore.

ME? My goal is still in reach. My goal never fucking went anywhere. MY GOAL didn't lose to a guy whose name sounds like that of a Skyrim NPC. You're entire hinged on points and people from a block you weren't even on. My goal was simply all about winning. By the end of all of this Crow, I'll have succeeded in my goal, beaten Corey Black and avenge one of my tougher losses of the year. And you'll just crawl back into the ground with no other goal in your life.

It must suck, Crow. It really must, being stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead like this. But look on the bright side. You've got a girlfriend now. You've finally got some family (even if that family consists of the sleaziest fattest promoter in thee whole country and a drug addled crazy person, it's still family.) But even more importantly, you've finally got a reason for people to care about you! Remember the days when you wee the low man on the chipped and broken Totem Pole that was Pantheon. Don't worry, I'm sure a lot of people do. Remember when you were just a guy named Scarecrow, driving around the country wielding a samurai sword complaining about how you never knew your parents? Again, I'm sure a lot of people do. Remember when the only thing people thought you would be in life was WCF People's Champion? I'm sure a lot of people do, Crow.

You were nothing special Crow. Sure people lauded you for being the longest reigning WCF People's Champion, but lemme be honest (and as a man that loves that title, I'm gonna be brutally honest.) Your reign as champion was the beginning of the end. It turned that belt from a "Cool belt for people on the rise" to "An albatross that'll put the breaks on any man's career and confine them until they lose it seven months later." People always saw you as "Talented, but talented enough to break through to the next tier." You even had the chance to upgrade that title in the best way possible. WCF Ultimate Showdown, 2015. Almost two fucking years ago, you had your first and only opportunity at the World title. Everyone knew you wanted that belt baaaaaaaaadly, you were practically aching for it. You MIGHT've have been a contender to take down the dominating Dune at that time. And what did you decide to do instead of actually prepare?

YOU FUCKIN MOPED IN YOUR HOTEL ROOM ABOUT HOW YOU COULDN'T FUCKIN DO IT.

Get the fuck outta here wit that shit. The WCF World title ain't for people like that. It's for fighters, people willing to go the extra mile and represent this company. I should know, I've held it TWICE. Oh, and just the add the cherry on that cake, you went and punched a bathroom mirror because reasons. Grow up.

So not only did you NOT win the WCF World title, not ONLY did you lose your precious People's title, you actually fucking DOWNGRADED TO THE INTERNET TITLE. I'm sure I've made my opinion on that belt very clear by now. What a fucking mess.

This may be harsh, but I'll say it right now. Dying was the best thing to ever happen to your career. For most people you say that about, it's far too late to reap the benefits. But not you. you actually managed to come back. NOW you had a little intrigue about you. Now you actually knew who your father was so you could stop complaining about it all the time. You could've been a LEGITIMATE WCF CONTENDER. So what do you do with this new found appreciation?

Sell out and go to Hollywood.

Get the fuck out of my face with that.

Even worse, you're the worst type of actor there is: a typecast actor. You said it yourself, almost every script you get has to do with fucking zombies. And you know what'll happen when you finally get a role that DOESN'T have to do with zombies? No one will fucking care.

You're not a warrior, Crow. You're not some reborn ronin for the 21t century. You're not some messiah risen from the grave for us. Truth be told, you're not even that good of a wrestler.

You're fucking nothing.

That's all I have to say. I'll see you in the ring.

FPV stops speaking for a moment, but right before turning the stream off, he decides to taunt his opponnent one final time, and begins mock flapping his "wings"

FPV: Caw caw, motherfucker!