H E A R T B E A T S
Jan 1, 2019 20:14:56 GMT -5
via mobile
Odin Balfore, Mikey eXtreme, and 2 more like this
Post by Wade Moor on Jan 1, 2019 20:14:56 GMT -5
“How can we give them something new that’s serious but entertaining too?”
The wind blows relieving the chain gang the whole thing
The full moon the war drums lookin for a pulse here if Mother Earth’s got one
How far down can we really go?
Maybe all the way, well I don’t know
But when you get there tellem I sent ya
and I want the army back that I lent him
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The waiting rooms in Hell didn’t differ much from the waiting rooms on Earth, iffin’ that was telling at all. Dingy lights lit a small room littered with matching chairs and couches, though these were definitely made from skin and bone likely bought from storage auction. Magazines ain’t nobody was interested in were being thumbed through by various patrons - imps, lesser, and greater demons alike - here in the “first circle” as they too awaited their appointments. They were of no consequence though, the man everyone was here to see had just walked through the door, Wade Moor, donning a fresh cut and trim for the “New Year, New Me” kinda shit you be seeing on your Facebook walls.
He was still wearing a clear plastic face mask to keep the broken nose he suffered at the boot of Corey Black in check, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him anymore. In fact, he waltzed right in to that shitty waiting room with a smile curving over his pearly whites nearly blinding the entities in the room. They cowered in fear as The Leviathan moved toward the front desk and rapped his knuckles on the mahogany counter. A demoness whipped around in her swivel chair and gave Wade a once over, panties nearly droppin’ to the floor at the sight of him - yuh, yuh even the demoness bitches wanted it but couldn’t have it.
“I’m here by appointment”, Wade announced, “I’ve made it months in advance and I’ve been anxiously awaiting it.”
She pursed her lips as stiletto nails rat-a-tat-tatted off of her keyboard. She finally found what she was looking for and moved her glaring yellow eyes up the length of Wade’s torso and looked into his ocean blues.
“Right on time”, she snarled, forked tongue lingering outside of her mouth for but a second, “Creeping Death will see you now, Mr. Moor.”
Wade guffawed at the absurdity of it all.
“Call me Wade”, he replied, “Mr. Moor is my fathers name.”
She nodded in acknowledgment and waved him forward through the bone laden skin door which opened of its own accord. Into the next area he moved, the hallway opening up to him on both sides with seemingly no end in sight either way. He made a gut decision and went right, his gut feelings never steered him wrong before. He walked what seemed for hours down the endless hallway until finally a door appeared on his left. A plain gun-metal door with a gun-metal turn handle. Wade put his ear to the door and coulda sworn he heard someone blasting Cradle of Filth on the other side of it, but when he turned the knob to enter there were no sight or sound to greet him. The room was pitch black but as he took a step inside, candelabra flickered to life to either side of him.
“Fucking dramatic ass demons”, Wade said aloud with no wary of consequence to his mortal well being, “Miss me with this stupid shit.”
A figure appeared before him, dressed in an all black suit as if he were about to attend a funeral. His head was bald and Wade could count the wrinkles in it which signified the demons age - dat KNEE GROW was old, fam.
“Finally”, a menacing, though delicate voice announced, “Wade Moor comes wandering into my midst. Tell me Leviathan, what is the reason for this meeting? Have you finally come to accept this one into your black heart?”
Wade laughed in response, which he could tell gave pause to any ill conceived notions Creeping Death may have had for his intrusion.
“Nothing so fancy”, Wade replied, “Though the offer is tempting. I’m not a gullible schmuck so I’m fairly certain I could keep a lesser like you well in hand.”
Creeping Death turned on his heels from his standing posit, his smile remaining but his eyes telling a different story. He was knocked quite off balance by the remarks from Wade.
“So then tell me”, Creeping Death snarled through yellow teeth, “What exactly do you want from me.”
Wade cocked his head back, keeping his calm under pressure.
“Information”, Wade answered, “I need information from somebody you know rather intimately. The one known as Corey Black.”
Creeping Death took several sucking breaths as if he were a serial killer recalling an old kill, his mind immediately transported to the days he took residence inside Corey Black’s soul. He moved his hand down his chest, closing in on his privates before Wade snapped his fingers and brought CD back to the situation at hand.
“At least wait until I leave before you smack one out”, Wade bolstered, “Have some professional courtesy you muntz.”
Creeping Death looked embarrassed at his lack of control and quickly made to apologize. He may be a demon but he did want to maintain some sense of decorum. He wasn’t a fucking poltergeist, for fucks sake!
“Right, right, of course”, he replied with a wave of his hand, “Now tell me, Moor...exactly what information do you need from me?”
“Anything you can tell me that will give me an edge on Black”, Wade answered, “You know how he be, all mega gay edgelord and shit. He’s the type of person to turn items off on Super Smash Bros and have the nerve to call himself a pro. Probably smack the controller out of your hand if he’s losing too bad. I heard he beat a six year old once and gloated for an entire month about it.”
Creeping Death laughed. That Wade was definitely a funny motherfucker. He could tell The Leviathan was about it, bout it. Came down to Hell just to seek council with Corey Blacks greatest nemesis.
“Yeah, he definitely be like that”, Creeping Death affirmed, “And the six year old story? That’s true as the Hell you stand in, my man.”
Wade snapped his fingers and did the step.
“I fucking knew it!”, he boomed in laughter.
The two shared a quick laugh but quickly returned to the business at hand.
“So, you want to know what makes Corey Black tick?” Creeping Death asked, “You want to know what that heart beats for, correct? I spent an overly invasive amount of time in the heart, mind, and soul of Corey Black trying to figure out the same exact thing. Years and years of digging the proverbial shovel into the dirt. Why should I tell you what gets under his skin? Why should I release information that I sunk decades into?”
“Because I can offer you something that nobody else can”, Wade replied.
Creeping Death furrowed his brow. The demons interest was piqued and Wade had him on his line.
“Oh, and what’s that?” Creeping Death asked.
Wade let the offer hang in uncomfortable silence for minutes that felt like hours to the demon. He was practically salivating when Wade finally answered.
“His mortal soul”, Wade replied, “I can give you front row seats to the destruction of Corey Black and then afterwards you can pick the scraps.”
Wade felt the hook sink into the cheek of Creeping Death as he began to inch closer and closer to The Leviathan. The demon decided to play coy though.
“Pray tell me, Leviathan”, Creeping Death hissed, “Why would I agree to that when I could do it myself? With a snap of my clawed fingers I could have Corey Black summoned before a court of Grand Demons and sentenced to a millennia of tortures you couldn’t even fathom.”
Wade smiles once more. He had Creeping Death by the nutsack now.
“Because if you COULD do that”, Wade sniped, “You would have already done it. Corey Black has been a thorn in your side since you decided to possess him. Sure, you pretended like you were the one running the show, but let’s get real. Corey Black was stronger than you and still is. You know something though. That’s why you decided to hop vessels to Kevin Bishop, though a weakling he may be. There’s something about Corey Black that you just couldn’t wrap your vice grip of a hand fully around. I WANT to know what it is. I NEED to know.”
Creeping Death seemingly switched gears as he took a few steps back. Wade was still playing the demon and he was falling directly into his hand. He was, even in his own realm, a fish out of water now.
“Corey Black. Stronger than ME?!” Creeping Death snarled, his nostrils flaring, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, “You’re funny, but not that funny, Moor. Corey Black could never defeat me. That’s why I was able to spend decades coiled around his soul like a serpent. Every move he made was predicated by ME and only ME! Do you want to know WHY I left Corey Black to his own devices?!”
Creeping Death slithered towards the back of the room, a dark ethereal aura starting to ruminate from his chosen visage.
“Because Corey Black is WEAK!” Creeping Death belted, “He was pathetic. I spent years trying to crack the thick outer shell of Corey Black only to discover that underneath his outer demeanor was nothing but a scared, frail, pitiful little boy. A boy who would rather collect dolls then take over the world. A boy who would rather be sat upon his ass playing video games then conquer a dominion. A petulant, whiney child of little to no consequence in the grand scheme of the Earth realm. A blip on the radar, small, fractional.”
Creeping Deaths lips quivered over his rotten yellow fangs as he spat black phlegm upon the the non existent floor.
“I choose not to bring Corey Black to hell to face a lifetime of torture because he’s already living in a Hell of his own creation. Soon, he’ll find himself an old, dusty man waiting at Deaths door...and I’ll be there to greet him with a wave of my taloned hand. Then he’ll finally know what true pain is.”
Wade smiled and cracked his neck.
“Thanks Creep”, Wade replied, “That’s all I needed to know.”
Wade turned on his heels to leave, but Creeping Death was standing in the way of the door, a smile on his old face.
“But you, my child”, Creeping Death said, those same sucking breaths making their way out of his thin lips, “You are someone I could work with. Together...”
Creeping Deaths ethereal hand reached towards Wade’s - who now felt under a dark spell - and planted on his chest.
“Together, we could rule Earth. Together we can bend them all over and make them our bitch. The terrible and great things the two of us could do. I’m getting chiiiiiiiiiiills just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Wade would never admit it aloud, but he was. His minds eyes soared with visions laden in black and gold.
Defeating.
Conquering.
Ruling.
Creeping Deaths seduction was powerful, almost too powerful...but The Leviathan dug down deep and pulled himself out of it. He shook off the feeling and brushed Creeping Deaths hand away from his chest. The demon looked taken aback, but not entirely surprised that he was able to resist his powerful enchantments.
“What are you?” Creeping Death asked, his eyes sinking into his skull.
“It’s not WHAT”, Wade replied, “It’s WHO, bitch! I’m Wade Moor. Now. Fucking. Bow. Down.”
Creeping Death looked as if he had taken a .44 slug to the chest as he disappeared from sight. Wade exited the door with a tip of his straw hat and left the realm of the demon without a second glance.
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Heartbeats
Like the earth is pulsating and there are shovels tearing into the ground
And we gotta wake the dead up and we gotta wake the dead up now
Like there are people in my city and they’re demons and they’re running all around
It’s enough to give a dead man
Enough to give a dead man a heartbeat
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“Here we are Corey. Months and months of back and forth, invasion, violence...all of it is about to culminate in one night at the biggest event of WCF’s calendar year. Notice how I didn’t say THE BIGGEST? It was definitely on purpose. You can deny it up and down, back and forth, and THERE DIAGONALLY, but the fact of the matter is this; WCF just ain’t what it used to be. Sure, it has pedigree and tradition dating as far back as anyone cares to remember - and trust me, nobody fucking cares - but a quick glance over will tell you that it’s dying a slow, miserable, and excruciatingly painful death. All of it with YOU at the helm. Fitting, considering you’ve never given a fuck about anything in your entire life.
“BUTT UH UH WADE, you’ll say, BIG NOPE! DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO? MY NAME IS COREY BLACK AND I’M THE KING OF ALL WRESTLERS. THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING?!”
Wade laughs in the back of his throat.
“Spoiler; it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean shit, especially in the here and now. In this match at One? It doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You see, you give yourself this moniker that’s supposed to inspire fear in the hearts of all of these young jobbers that sign a contract with WCF. I’ll even admit that you had a certain aura about you whenever I first entered the WCF fray. I felt like you were the one that someone needed to face in order to prove themselves around these parts. If you wanted an instant hop to the forefront of the WCF Pack - lmao Pack, you get it right? - then Corey Black was the man to beat. You had to put his shoulders on the mat for the one two three if you wanted to make a name for yourself in this company...but the longer I spent in the WCF, the more I realized that this was all an illusion, a bait and switch if you will.
“The only reason your name carried any weight around WCF was because you surrounded yourself with infinitely more talented people then you ever were or ever will be. Johnny Fly. Steve Orbit. Crow. Jared Holmes. Joey Flash...Wade Moor? You’ve fallen into accidental success by leeching off of team members who were rolling up their sleeves and putting in the hard work for you while carefully selecting matches you had surefire, odds on chances of winning, though even then you were unable to pull it out. I mean, you’re the guy who created and crowdfunded XIII just to suck your own dick and simultaneously the dick of your idiotic friends. Despite being the laughing stock of the wrestling community, XIII does pull in decent buy rates so your persona as a con artist has some merit to it other than you being able to do the fucking thing on your own. I’m sure you didn’t expect me to come this hard, did you?
“Probably fooled yourself into thinking that this was just another opportunity to score a BIG WIN over a name that carries more clout than yours in Two Thousand and Eighteen...but if I could direct your attention to the video feed...”
The promo feed cuts away as another video starts to play. The Action Wrestling logo appears before fading away to a highlight dated “Carnage 10/21/18”.
Cut back to the present where Wade stands, popping his knuckles, smiling, chuckling.
“L Verez beat you in your own creation, The Nightmare Chamber, a match you specifically designed to give you the mental edge. We all know Corey Black as “King of the Death Match”, but you let some space alien tear you down, and with it your image, brick by fucking brick! I know you’re thinking to yourself that you made L Verez that night. By getting such a violent victory over Corey Black, L Verez’s future was set, so you could sit back and watch another one of your ‘creations’ come to be. What happened after that though, Black? Did Verez use that victory to solidify herself as a main eventer, or was it just another illusion, another con by the master deceiver Corey Black? When her opportunity came for the Action Wrestling World Championship, she crumbled into dust because her victory over you was hollow and as empty as your promises to make WCF tolerable again.
“That’s the problem with people like you, Corey. Your ideas are big but your actions are fruitless. You promise change while giving everyone the same plate of shit to eat over and over again. Yet they yuck it up because WCF appeals to the absolute lowest of the low, the muck and bilge, those that still bathe in the primordial ooze. The fucking wastrels and morons of the professional wrestling business. When that clan of Mustache retards are getting premium booking and more mic time than Vincent Augustine or John McCarty, you’ve absolutely found yourself in the god damn shitter. That’s where WCF is. Right in the god damn toilet next to the chipotle run off and the “king of the kon artists” himself Corey Black.”
Wade laughs again, something primal and guttural, as if this was the moment he’s been waiting for all along. Buckle up, Black, the ride ain’t over yet.
“But fret not, Black, I’ve come to save WCF. No I’m not here to show you that I can put on ten minute, fifteen, twenty, thirty, sixty minute wrestling clinics. Im not about to compete in a series of legendary wrestling matches to bring honor and prestige back to your dying brand. Im not going to accept any death matches or other gimmicky, stupid bullshit either...I’m here to do what should have been done a looooooong time ago. I’m going to save WCF from itself by destroying it. I’m going to set it ablaze, watch it roast into nothing but cinder, and then piss on the ashes. It doesn’t deserve anything more than that and deep down - in your heart of hearts - I know you believe the exact same thing.
“Of course, you’ll try and shift the blame. Not only do you siphon off of your supposed friends but you also try and throw them under the bus any chance you get. There’s a reason why you’re always the last surviving member of any iteration of Pantheon and it isn’t because you’re the last to carry the edict and mythos of the stable on your dainty little kid shoulders. Earths Mightiest Wrestling Stable? I don’t think I can laugh any harder, Black. More like ‘nerd clash and Corey Black steals your thunder once your team mates get tired of carrying you through victory after victory’. It’s the way it is and the way it always will be. I’m sure you’ve been eyeing the current crop to see which ones you could suck the soul out of to feed into the Corey Black mythology. I can’t wait for the Biff/Buff Mustache, Teo Blaze, and Lord Raab Pantheon formation ELL OH ELL.
“Shit, I’m glad I had the foresight to get off of that sinking Pantheon ship before it went under. What a god damn wreck, but you probably thought it was awesome because you’re an idiot that lacks the common sense to know when something is actually good or bad. #beachkrew was just more names to fit into your hallowed Pantheon halls. Jared appreciated the irony. Rabid thought it was good move, though. Me? I just thought it was fucking stupid, but it’s like watching a car crash and I couldn’t peel myself away from it. Just another thing I can check off my professional wrestling bucket list.”
Wade rubs his thumb and forefinger through his thick, neatly trimmed beard.
“It’s no coincidence that after I left WCF and quit for good that I had one of the greatest years in my career. You could say it was because I had friends in high places, but I look as it more as they appreciated the talent they knew they had. Every once in a while, a wrestler comes along whose more than just a wrestler, Black. See you hold the moniker of “King of All Wrestlers”, but I don’t fit under that banner. I’m more than just a wrestler, Corey...I’m a fucking legend in the making. A megastar amid the plebs. A God amongst bitches. The greatest WCF and Action Wrestling World Champion and 2018’s Wrestler of the Year. 2019 isn’t going to be any different, and it starts with your complete and utter decimation. There’s absolutely no way around it, my man. You signed your own death warrant when you threw down your open challenge. I can only apologize that I was the one who happened to answer.
“This is the year that it all comes to a violent end, Black. The things that I’ve done to WCF in the past will pale in comparison to the things that I’m yet to do and anyone that needs a reminder of what I’m capable of then, go to /insert link here/ and check it out. Or go ahead and roll back the tape on the LAST GREAT WCF PPV where you can watch The Leviathan Wade Moor absolutely crush Corey Black. A moment that will be immortalized in the annals of WCF history, but more importantly, engrained in the mind of WCF ‘legend’ Corey Black as the time he realized he’s no longer cut out for this shit. The moment he realized that Wade Moor was - in fact - better than he, or anyone, ever thought he could be.”
Wade chuckles one last, solemn time, rolling his shoulders back as if to signify that this was indeed the end of Corey Black.
“Poor, pathetic Corey...always the gaijin but never the GAWDNILLA. Now that I’m absolutely finished verbally sodomizing you, I say to you again;
FUCKING!
BOW!
DOWN!”
The scene fades on those ocean blue eyes, flickering black as the feed cuts.
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Ateh
Malkuth
ve-Geburah
ve-Gedulah
le-Olahm, Amen
AHIH
YHVH
AHIH
ALHIM
AGLA
EL
AGLA
ADNI
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Like most things in Wade’s life, they begin and end with the ocean. He sat here on this New Years Eve, alone as wasn’t usually the case nowadays with #beachkrew parties, Action Wrestling press conferences, house shows, or whatever promotional material he happened to be shooting at any given time...but even though he found himself alone, he silently wished he wasn’t. He longed for the company of another, one he hadn’t seen since their relationship had decidedly ended.
Thinking about Bonnie Blue was hard, harder than most challenges he had endured in his personal and professional life. He had been unable to shake the sight and sound from his mind.
Bonnie with the pop up Mark of Odin to Balfore!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
He had been able to tune John Rabid out on commentary - he had grown accustom to doing so - and there she stood. Years of hard work and dedication all culminating in victory over the All Father! She hoisted the WCF World Championship high into the air! Rabid slithered into the ring, as serpents do, and he prepared to watch him absolutely annihilate here in route to attempting to reclaim the World Championship for himself. His jaw clenched, his fists tightened, eye spasmed...but what happened next absolutely shocked him.
He watched the two celebrate as lovers would, first with an embrace, and then a kiss. It was deep, passionate, seductive...it was his, not Rabids! Wade looked out into the ocean to calm his idling rage, but with his emotions, the ocean shifted. Once gentle waves turned turbulent, dark clouds hung over the skyline, foreboding, likely sending sailors hurrying to the shore in fear of being swept away in torrential conditions. He watched a long tentacle arise out of the water, The Leviathan, waving to him as if to say “hey calm down, motherfucker. So your bitch dumped you, it ain’t the end of the world. I’m tryna sleep now, my nilla, fuck off!”
Wade wouldn’t listen though, his mind swept away in waves as furious as the sea. It be like that sometimes, though. He slid his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a small black box, flicking it open with a slight motion of his thumb. A shining band wrapped around a raw diamond, encrusted with brilliant sapphires the exact color of Bonnie’s eyes. He would have shed a tear, were shedding a tear in his playbook, but Wade Moor was as ALPHA as it comes duders and duderettes. If you wanted that BETA cuck shit go watch the rest of the WCF’s frivolous promotional material because you ain’t gonna find it here.
His eyes burned into the ring. He had bought it the week after he and Bonnie had became a thing. He knew it was too early, not the right time in their budding romance...but he also knew he never had feelings for another person the way he had feelings for her. He found himself peering at his phone more often, waiting for a text, a call, a tweet...anything from her to let him he know she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her. He knew it was love when his heart raced every time he saw her, when there kisses became passionate as the one he saw on screen with Rabid, when there sex was explosive and transported them to different dimensions within and with without of this universe.
It was gone though, or so he willed himself to believe. He wished to himself and Lord Yeezus that a small part of her still had the same feelings...but the Bonnie he knew was dead, replaced with a doppelgänger barely fit to lick her toes, yet carried the World Championship. Sometimes, he felt, to achieve the one thing you want the most, you had to be willing to sacrifice everything. That’s exactly what Bonnie had done when she let whatever darkness into her heart that John Rabid had seduced her with.
He looked down once more at the ring clutched in his whitening fist and then tossed it into the ocean. It hung on the surface for but a second before delicately sinking beneath there hastening waves pushing now against the docks, rocking the bouys at sea, clashing off of rock heads surrounding the port. That tentacle rose up from the sea again and waved again.
“Feels bad, brother. Go have a few drinks and get laid, man. Fill that emptiness inside ya heart because we have a match to win, GAWDNILLA damn it.”
That they did.
Wade wouldn’t allow this to hang on his mind any longer. He was going to focus on his career, focus on defeating Corey Black and making him his bitch UNDAH DA SEA at WCF’s ONE PPV...then soon it would be Rabid’s turn. He would free Bonnie from whatever dark spell he had cast upon her and end the miserable effete once and for all. Let Bonnie make a 100% free willed choice on who she genuinely cared for.
Loved even.
Out at sea, the ring sank beneath them waves, deeper and deeper...until gently caught by The Leviathan’s delicate touch. It swallowed the ring for safekeeping, because like most things it’s masters life.
It began and ended with the sea.
The wind blows relieving the chain gang the whole thing
The full moon the war drums lookin for a pulse here if Mother Earth’s got one
How far down can we really go?
Maybe all the way, well I don’t know
But when you get there tellem I sent ya
and I want the army back that I lent him
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The waiting rooms in Hell didn’t differ much from the waiting rooms on Earth, iffin’ that was telling at all. Dingy lights lit a small room littered with matching chairs and couches, though these were definitely made from skin and bone likely bought from storage auction. Magazines ain’t nobody was interested in were being thumbed through by various patrons - imps, lesser, and greater demons alike - here in the “first circle” as they too awaited their appointments. They were of no consequence though, the man everyone was here to see had just walked through the door, Wade Moor, donning a fresh cut and trim for the “New Year, New Me” kinda shit you be seeing on your Facebook walls.
He was still wearing a clear plastic face mask to keep the broken nose he suffered at the boot of Corey Black in check, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him anymore. In fact, he waltzed right in to that shitty waiting room with a smile curving over his pearly whites nearly blinding the entities in the room. They cowered in fear as The Leviathan moved toward the front desk and rapped his knuckles on the mahogany counter. A demoness whipped around in her swivel chair and gave Wade a once over, panties nearly droppin’ to the floor at the sight of him - yuh, yuh even the demoness bitches wanted it but couldn’t have it.
“I’m here by appointment”, Wade announced, “I’ve made it months in advance and I’ve been anxiously awaiting it.”
She pursed her lips as stiletto nails rat-a-tat-tatted off of her keyboard. She finally found what she was looking for and moved her glaring yellow eyes up the length of Wade’s torso and looked into his ocean blues.
“Right on time”, she snarled, forked tongue lingering outside of her mouth for but a second, “Creeping Death will see you now, Mr. Moor.”
Wade guffawed at the absurdity of it all.
“Call me Wade”, he replied, “Mr. Moor is my fathers name.”
She nodded in acknowledgment and waved him forward through the bone laden skin door which opened of its own accord. Into the next area he moved, the hallway opening up to him on both sides with seemingly no end in sight either way. He made a gut decision and went right, his gut feelings never steered him wrong before. He walked what seemed for hours down the endless hallway until finally a door appeared on his left. A plain gun-metal door with a gun-metal turn handle. Wade put his ear to the door and coulda sworn he heard someone blasting Cradle of Filth on the other side of it, but when he turned the knob to enter there were no sight or sound to greet him. The room was pitch black but as he took a step inside, candelabra flickered to life to either side of him.
“Fucking dramatic ass demons”, Wade said aloud with no wary of consequence to his mortal well being, “Miss me with this stupid shit.”
A figure appeared before him, dressed in an all black suit as if he were about to attend a funeral. His head was bald and Wade could count the wrinkles in it which signified the demons age - dat KNEE GROW was old, fam.
“Finally”, a menacing, though delicate voice announced, “Wade Moor comes wandering into my midst. Tell me Leviathan, what is the reason for this meeting? Have you finally come to accept this one into your black heart?”
Wade laughed in response, which he could tell gave pause to any ill conceived notions Creeping Death may have had for his intrusion.
“Nothing so fancy”, Wade replied, “Though the offer is tempting. I’m not a gullible schmuck so I’m fairly certain I could keep a lesser like you well in hand.”
Creeping Death turned on his heels from his standing posit, his smile remaining but his eyes telling a different story. He was knocked quite off balance by the remarks from Wade.
“So then tell me”, Creeping Death snarled through yellow teeth, “What exactly do you want from me.”
Wade cocked his head back, keeping his calm under pressure.
“Information”, Wade answered, “I need information from somebody you know rather intimately. The one known as Corey Black.”
Creeping Death took several sucking breaths as if he were a serial killer recalling an old kill, his mind immediately transported to the days he took residence inside Corey Black’s soul. He moved his hand down his chest, closing in on his privates before Wade snapped his fingers and brought CD back to the situation at hand.
“At least wait until I leave before you smack one out”, Wade bolstered, “Have some professional courtesy you muntz.”
Creeping Death looked embarrassed at his lack of control and quickly made to apologize. He may be a demon but he did want to maintain some sense of decorum. He wasn’t a fucking poltergeist, for fucks sake!
“Right, right, of course”, he replied with a wave of his hand, “Now tell me, Moor...exactly what information do you need from me?”
“Anything you can tell me that will give me an edge on Black”, Wade answered, “You know how he be, all mega gay edgelord and shit. He’s the type of person to turn items off on Super Smash Bros and have the nerve to call himself a pro. Probably smack the controller out of your hand if he’s losing too bad. I heard he beat a six year old once and gloated for an entire month about it.”
Creeping Death laughed. That Wade was definitely a funny motherfucker. He could tell The Leviathan was about it, bout it. Came down to Hell just to seek council with Corey Blacks greatest nemesis.
“Yeah, he definitely be like that”, Creeping Death affirmed, “And the six year old story? That’s true as the Hell you stand in, my man.”
Wade snapped his fingers and did the step.
“I fucking knew it!”, he boomed in laughter.
The two shared a quick laugh but quickly returned to the business at hand.
“So, you want to know what makes Corey Black tick?” Creeping Death asked, “You want to know what that heart beats for, correct? I spent an overly invasive amount of time in the heart, mind, and soul of Corey Black trying to figure out the same exact thing. Years and years of digging the proverbial shovel into the dirt. Why should I tell you what gets under his skin? Why should I release information that I sunk decades into?”
“Because I can offer you something that nobody else can”, Wade replied.
Creeping Death furrowed his brow. The demons interest was piqued and Wade had him on his line.
“Oh, and what’s that?” Creeping Death asked.
Wade let the offer hang in uncomfortable silence for minutes that felt like hours to the demon. He was practically salivating when Wade finally answered.
“His mortal soul”, Wade replied, “I can give you front row seats to the destruction of Corey Black and then afterwards you can pick the scraps.”
Wade felt the hook sink into the cheek of Creeping Death as he began to inch closer and closer to The Leviathan. The demon decided to play coy though.
“Pray tell me, Leviathan”, Creeping Death hissed, “Why would I agree to that when I could do it myself? With a snap of my clawed fingers I could have Corey Black summoned before a court of Grand Demons and sentenced to a millennia of tortures you couldn’t even fathom.”
Wade smiles once more. He had Creeping Death by the nutsack now.
“Because if you COULD do that”, Wade sniped, “You would have already done it. Corey Black has been a thorn in your side since you decided to possess him. Sure, you pretended like you were the one running the show, but let’s get real. Corey Black was stronger than you and still is. You know something though. That’s why you decided to hop vessels to Kevin Bishop, though a weakling he may be. There’s something about Corey Black that you just couldn’t wrap your vice grip of a hand fully around. I WANT to know what it is. I NEED to know.”
Creeping Death seemingly switched gears as he took a few steps back. Wade was still playing the demon and he was falling directly into his hand. He was, even in his own realm, a fish out of water now.
“Corey Black. Stronger than ME?!” Creeping Death snarled, his nostrils flaring, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, “You’re funny, but not that funny, Moor. Corey Black could never defeat me. That’s why I was able to spend decades coiled around his soul like a serpent. Every move he made was predicated by ME and only ME! Do you want to know WHY I left Corey Black to his own devices?!”
Creeping Death slithered towards the back of the room, a dark ethereal aura starting to ruminate from his chosen visage.
“Because Corey Black is WEAK!” Creeping Death belted, “He was pathetic. I spent years trying to crack the thick outer shell of Corey Black only to discover that underneath his outer demeanor was nothing but a scared, frail, pitiful little boy. A boy who would rather collect dolls then take over the world. A boy who would rather be sat upon his ass playing video games then conquer a dominion. A petulant, whiney child of little to no consequence in the grand scheme of the Earth realm. A blip on the radar, small, fractional.”
Creeping Deaths lips quivered over his rotten yellow fangs as he spat black phlegm upon the the non existent floor.
“I choose not to bring Corey Black to hell to face a lifetime of torture because he’s already living in a Hell of his own creation. Soon, he’ll find himself an old, dusty man waiting at Deaths door...and I’ll be there to greet him with a wave of my taloned hand. Then he’ll finally know what true pain is.”
Wade smiled and cracked his neck.
“Thanks Creep”, Wade replied, “That’s all I needed to know.”
Wade turned on his heels to leave, but Creeping Death was standing in the way of the door, a smile on his old face.
“But you, my child”, Creeping Death said, those same sucking breaths making their way out of his thin lips, “You are someone I could work with. Together...”
Creeping Deaths ethereal hand reached towards Wade’s - who now felt under a dark spell - and planted on his chest.
“Together, we could rule Earth. Together we can bend them all over and make them our bitch. The terrible and great things the two of us could do. I’m getting chiiiiiiiiiiills just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Wade would never admit it aloud, but he was. His minds eyes soared with visions laden in black and gold.
Defeating.
Conquering.
Ruling.
Creeping Deaths seduction was powerful, almost too powerful...but The Leviathan dug down deep and pulled himself out of it. He shook off the feeling and brushed Creeping Deaths hand away from his chest. The demon looked taken aback, but not entirely surprised that he was able to resist his powerful enchantments.
“What are you?” Creeping Death asked, his eyes sinking into his skull.
“It’s not WHAT”, Wade replied, “It’s WHO, bitch! I’m Wade Moor. Now. Fucking. Bow. Down.”
Creeping Death looked as if he had taken a .44 slug to the chest as he disappeared from sight. Wade exited the door with a tip of his straw hat and left the realm of the demon without a second glance.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Heartbeats
Like the earth is pulsating and there are shovels tearing into the ground
And we gotta wake the dead up and we gotta wake the dead up now
Like there are people in my city and they’re demons and they’re running all around
It’s enough to give a dead man
Enough to give a dead man a heartbeat
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
“Here we are Corey. Months and months of back and forth, invasion, violence...all of it is about to culminate in one night at the biggest event of WCF’s calendar year. Notice how I didn’t say THE BIGGEST? It was definitely on purpose. You can deny it up and down, back and forth, and THERE DIAGONALLY, but the fact of the matter is this; WCF just ain’t what it used to be. Sure, it has pedigree and tradition dating as far back as anyone cares to remember - and trust me, nobody fucking cares - but a quick glance over will tell you that it’s dying a slow, miserable, and excruciatingly painful death. All of it with YOU at the helm. Fitting, considering you’ve never given a fuck about anything in your entire life.
“BUTT UH UH WADE, you’ll say, BIG NOPE! DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO? MY NAME IS COREY BLACK AND I’M THE KING OF ALL WRESTLERS. THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING?!”
Wade laughs in the back of his throat.
“Spoiler; it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean shit, especially in the here and now. In this match at One? It doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You see, you give yourself this moniker that’s supposed to inspire fear in the hearts of all of these young jobbers that sign a contract with WCF. I’ll even admit that you had a certain aura about you whenever I first entered the WCF fray. I felt like you were the one that someone needed to face in order to prove themselves around these parts. If you wanted an instant hop to the forefront of the WCF Pack - lmao Pack, you get it right? - then Corey Black was the man to beat. You had to put his shoulders on the mat for the one two three if you wanted to make a name for yourself in this company...but the longer I spent in the WCF, the more I realized that this was all an illusion, a bait and switch if you will.
“The only reason your name carried any weight around WCF was because you surrounded yourself with infinitely more talented people then you ever were or ever will be. Johnny Fly. Steve Orbit. Crow. Jared Holmes. Joey Flash...Wade Moor? You’ve fallen into accidental success by leeching off of team members who were rolling up their sleeves and putting in the hard work for you while carefully selecting matches you had surefire, odds on chances of winning, though even then you were unable to pull it out. I mean, you’re the guy who created and crowdfunded XIII just to suck your own dick and simultaneously the dick of your idiotic friends. Despite being the laughing stock of the wrestling community, XIII does pull in decent buy rates so your persona as a con artist has some merit to it other than you being able to do the fucking thing on your own. I’m sure you didn’t expect me to come this hard, did you?
“Probably fooled yourself into thinking that this was just another opportunity to score a BIG WIN over a name that carries more clout than yours in Two Thousand and Eighteen...but if I could direct your attention to the video feed...”
The promo feed cuts away as another video starts to play. The Action Wrestling logo appears before fading away to a highlight dated “Carnage 10/21/18”.
She jumps on his shoulders as he gets to his feet and hits a reverse-frankenstiener landing him on his neck and popping him back up to his feet, as she gets back to her feet she picks him up and drops him on his head and YOU KNOW WHAT MOVE IT WAS.. BECAUSE THE CROWD JUST WENT FUCKING NUTS..
Billy: VEREZ HITS THE BUUURRRRNNIIINGGG HAMMMEERRRRR!!!!!!!!!
Verez gets up and nods to the crowd, misty eyed, on a HELL of a streak, WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM.. Corey Black stumbles to his feet, wobbly as FUCK, he turns..
Chris Avery: Celestial Descent!!!!!!
Verez hits it and pins Corey Black
The crowd counts with the ref!
ONE!!
TWO!!!
THREE!!
Billy: VEREZ DID IT!! VEREZ DID IT!!
Chris Avery: L VEREZ DEFEATS THE LEGENDARY HALL OF FAMER COREY BLACK!!
Verez music plays as the crowd celebrates one of the biggest wins in AW history, and in Verez career!
Billy: VEREZ HITS THE BUUURRRRNNIIINGGG HAMMMEERRRRR!!!!!!!!!
Verez gets up and nods to the crowd, misty eyed, on a HELL of a streak, WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM.. Corey Black stumbles to his feet, wobbly as FUCK, he turns..
Chris Avery: Celestial Descent!!!!!!
Verez hits it and pins Corey Black
The crowd counts with the ref!
ONE!!
TWO!!!
THREE!!
Billy: VEREZ DID IT!! VEREZ DID IT!!
Chris Avery: L VEREZ DEFEATS THE LEGENDARY HALL OF FAMER COREY BLACK!!
Verez music plays as the crowd celebrates one of the biggest wins in AW history, and in Verez career!
Cut back to the present where Wade stands, popping his knuckles, smiling, chuckling.
“L Verez beat you in your own creation, The Nightmare Chamber, a match you specifically designed to give you the mental edge. We all know Corey Black as “King of the Death Match”, but you let some space alien tear you down, and with it your image, brick by fucking brick! I know you’re thinking to yourself that you made L Verez that night. By getting such a violent victory over Corey Black, L Verez’s future was set, so you could sit back and watch another one of your ‘creations’ come to be. What happened after that though, Black? Did Verez use that victory to solidify herself as a main eventer, or was it just another illusion, another con by the master deceiver Corey Black? When her opportunity came for the Action Wrestling World Championship, she crumbled into dust because her victory over you was hollow and as empty as your promises to make WCF tolerable again.
“That’s the problem with people like you, Corey. Your ideas are big but your actions are fruitless. You promise change while giving everyone the same plate of shit to eat over and over again. Yet they yuck it up because WCF appeals to the absolute lowest of the low, the muck and bilge, those that still bathe in the primordial ooze. The fucking wastrels and morons of the professional wrestling business. When that clan of Mustache retards are getting premium booking and more mic time than Vincent Augustine or John McCarty, you’ve absolutely found yourself in the god damn shitter. That’s where WCF is. Right in the god damn toilet next to the chipotle run off and the “king of the kon artists” himself Corey Black.”
Wade laughs again, something primal and guttural, as if this was the moment he’s been waiting for all along. Buckle up, Black, the ride ain’t over yet.
“But fret not, Black, I’ve come to save WCF. No I’m not here to show you that I can put on ten minute, fifteen, twenty, thirty, sixty minute wrestling clinics. Im not about to compete in a series of legendary wrestling matches to bring honor and prestige back to your dying brand. Im not going to accept any death matches or other gimmicky, stupid bullshit either...I’m here to do what should have been done a looooooong time ago. I’m going to save WCF from itself by destroying it. I’m going to set it ablaze, watch it roast into nothing but cinder, and then piss on the ashes. It doesn’t deserve anything more than that and deep down - in your heart of hearts - I know you believe the exact same thing.
“Of course, you’ll try and shift the blame. Not only do you siphon off of your supposed friends but you also try and throw them under the bus any chance you get. There’s a reason why you’re always the last surviving member of any iteration of Pantheon and it isn’t because you’re the last to carry the edict and mythos of the stable on your dainty little kid shoulders. Earths Mightiest Wrestling Stable? I don’t think I can laugh any harder, Black. More like ‘nerd clash and Corey Black steals your thunder once your team mates get tired of carrying you through victory after victory’. It’s the way it is and the way it always will be. I’m sure you’ve been eyeing the current crop to see which ones you could suck the soul out of to feed into the Corey Black mythology. I can’t wait for the Biff/Buff Mustache, Teo Blaze, and Lord Raab Pantheon formation ELL OH ELL.
“Shit, I’m glad I had the foresight to get off of that sinking Pantheon ship before it went under. What a god damn wreck, but you probably thought it was awesome because you’re an idiot that lacks the common sense to know when something is actually good or bad. #beachkrew was just more names to fit into your hallowed Pantheon halls. Jared appreciated the irony. Rabid thought it was good move, though. Me? I just thought it was fucking stupid, but it’s like watching a car crash and I couldn’t peel myself away from it. Just another thing I can check off my professional wrestling bucket list.”
Wade rubs his thumb and forefinger through his thick, neatly trimmed beard.
“It’s no coincidence that after I left WCF and quit for good that I had one of the greatest years in my career. You could say it was because I had friends in high places, but I look as it more as they appreciated the talent they knew they had. Every once in a while, a wrestler comes along whose more than just a wrestler, Black. See you hold the moniker of “King of All Wrestlers”, but I don’t fit under that banner. I’m more than just a wrestler, Corey...I’m a fucking legend in the making. A megastar amid the plebs. A God amongst bitches. The greatest WCF and Action Wrestling World Champion and 2018’s Wrestler of the Year. 2019 isn’t going to be any different, and it starts with your complete and utter decimation. There’s absolutely no way around it, my man. You signed your own death warrant when you threw down your open challenge. I can only apologize that I was the one who happened to answer.
“This is the year that it all comes to a violent end, Black. The things that I’ve done to WCF in the past will pale in comparison to the things that I’m yet to do and anyone that needs a reminder of what I’m capable of then, go to /insert link here/ and check it out. Or go ahead and roll back the tape on the LAST GREAT WCF PPV where you can watch The Leviathan Wade Moor absolutely crush Corey Black. A moment that will be immortalized in the annals of WCF history, but more importantly, engrained in the mind of WCF ‘legend’ Corey Black as the time he realized he’s no longer cut out for this shit. The moment he realized that Wade Moor was - in fact - better than he, or anyone, ever thought he could be.”
Wade chuckles one last, solemn time, rolling his shoulders back as if to signify that this was indeed the end of Corey Black.
“Poor, pathetic Corey...always the gaijin but never the GAWDNILLA. Now that I’m absolutely finished verbally sodomizing you, I say to you again;
FUCKING!
BOW!
DOWN!”
The scene fades on those ocean blue eyes, flickering black as the feed cuts.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Ateh
Malkuth
ve-Geburah
ve-Gedulah
le-Olahm, Amen
AHIH
YHVH
AHIH
ALHIM
AGLA
EL
AGLA
ADNI
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Like most things in Wade’s life, they begin and end with the ocean. He sat here on this New Years Eve, alone as wasn’t usually the case nowadays with #beachkrew parties, Action Wrestling press conferences, house shows, or whatever promotional material he happened to be shooting at any given time...but even though he found himself alone, he silently wished he wasn’t. He longed for the company of another, one he hadn’t seen since their relationship had decidedly ended.
Thinking about Bonnie Blue was hard, harder than most challenges he had endured in his personal and professional life. He had been unable to shake the sight and sound from his mind.
Bonnie with the pop up Mark of Odin to Balfore!
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
He had been able to tune John Rabid out on commentary - he had grown accustom to doing so - and there she stood. Years of hard work and dedication all culminating in victory over the All Father! She hoisted the WCF World Championship high into the air! Rabid slithered into the ring, as serpents do, and he prepared to watch him absolutely annihilate here in route to attempting to reclaim the World Championship for himself. His jaw clenched, his fists tightened, eye spasmed...but what happened next absolutely shocked him.
He watched the two celebrate as lovers would, first with an embrace, and then a kiss. It was deep, passionate, seductive...it was his, not Rabids! Wade looked out into the ocean to calm his idling rage, but with his emotions, the ocean shifted. Once gentle waves turned turbulent, dark clouds hung over the skyline, foreboding, likely sending sailors hurrying to the shore in fear of being swept away in torrential conditions. He watched a long tentacle arise out of the water, The Leviathan, waving to him as if to say “hey calm down, motherfucker. So your bitch dumped you, it ain’t the end of the world. I’m tryna sleep now, my nilla, fuck off!”
Wade wouldn’t listen though, his mind swept away in waves as furious as the sea. It be like that sometimes, though. He slid his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a small black box, flicking it open with a slight motion of his thumb. A shining band wrapped around a raw diamond, encrusted with brilliant sapphires the exact color of Bonnie’s eyes. He would have shed a tear, were shedding a tear in his playbook, but Wade Moor was as ALPHA as it comes duders and duderettes. If you wanted that BETA cuck shit go watch the rest of the WCF’s frivolous promotional material because you ain’t gonna find it here.
His eyes burned into the ring. He had bought it the week after he and Bonnie had became a thing. He knew it was too early, not the right time in their budding romance...but he also knew he never had feelings for another person the way he had feelings for her. He found himself peering at his phone more often, waiting for a text, a call, a tweet...anything from her to let him he know she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her. He knew it was love when his heart raced every time he saw her, when there kisses became passionate as the one he saw on screen with Rabid, when there sex was explosive and transported them to different dimensions within and with without of this universe.
It was gone though, or so he willed himself to believe. He wished to himself and Lord Yeezus that a small part of her still had the same feelings...but the Bonnie he knew was dead, replaced with a doppelgänger barely fit to lick her toes, yet carried the World Championship. Sometimes, he felt, to achieve the one thing you want the most, you had to be willing to sacrifice everything. That’s exactly what Bonnie had done when she let whatever darkness into her heart that John Rabid had seduced her with.
He looked down once more at the ring clutched in his whitening fist and then tossed it into the ocean. It hung on the surface for but a second before delicately sinking beneath there hastening waves pushing now against the docks, rocking the bouys at sea, clashing off of rock heads surrounding the port. That tentacle rose up from the sea again and waved again.
“Feels bad, brother. Go have a few drinks and get laid, man. Fill that emptiness inside ya heart because we have a match to win, GAWDNILLA damn it.”
That they did.
Wade wouldn’t allow this to hang on his mind any longer. He was going to focus on his career, focus on defeating Corey Black and making him his bitch UNDAH DA SEA at WCF’s ONE PPV...then soon it would be Rabid’s turn. He would free Bonnie from whatever dark spell he had cast upon her and end the miserable effete once and for all. Let Bonnie make a 100% free willed choice on who she genuinely cared for.
Loved even.
Out at sea, the ring sank beneath them waves, deeper and deeper...until gently caught by The Leviathan’s delicate touch. It swallowed the ring for safekeeping, because like most things it’s masters life.
It began and ended with the sea.
